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f1ghtsoftly · 5 months

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Assigning Blame: Who is At Fault When Women Are Retaliated Against?

When things go wrong, it is often useful for us to endeavor to discover why, to make matters more complex, how does the apportion of blame change under objectively hostile social conditions? Does the prevalence of injustice preclude us from assigning blame to the oppressed? When the goal is to avoid the ire of the oppressor-how much responsibility does the oppressed hold? Is it even possible to attempt to outsmart someone committed to your destruction? What happens when you fail or refuse to play by their rules?

While I've read a lot and experienced a lot since childhood-it remains to me the most fruitful place to study power dynamics, a kind of lab that helps me reflect on and understand how to operate from a place of social weakness. I had known for a long time that what was happening at home was unjust and I tried multiple strategies to gain some power back, and was met mostly with failure. By the time I was 7 or 8 I had trained myself not to react to beatings for the most part, which made my abuser escalate in attempts to break me psychologically, they succeeded by beating my sister instead. My sister, watching my example-tried to get me to exercise caution. She believed that the only solution was to get away as soon and as much as possible. She didn’t see why resistance was necessary-she thought by controlling me she could make our abuse stop. It didn’t, even when I complied with my abusers wishes. As a young teen, I made a deal with someone to get us out of that environment, it was a trap. No sooner than two years later, my brother, sister and I were made to pay for my mistakes. I became the center of a patriarchal witch hunt and lost everything.

I don’t know if my biggest mistake was ever taking a stand against abuse, but what if it was? I don’t know if I prevented any suffering with my behavior. Conventional wisdom says I shouldn’t hold responsibility, but when you look at the suffering of others and my results, it becomes clear that a conscious, mediated resistance will yield a collective punishment that might just land us in a worse place than the one we were trying to escape. Is that ever worth it?

In many ways, these dynamics mirror the dynamics many feminists face today. Would we trade the short term wellbeing of our sisters for a shot at freedom? Could we even bear it if we did? Will the long term alliance with powerful allies be something that helps us? Or is that an illusion too? If we give up the support of the institutional left, who will protect us? Can we even protect ourselves?

I am…bullheaded. I tend to think that the consistent prolonged effort of one woman could become many, I also can become very fixated on a goal. To me, the short term pain means very little if we can get somewhere tangible-but I am also strong and lucky. The sacrifice to me means nothing in the face of lifelong subordination. Other women, of less financial means, with different psychologies, different needs might suffer more intensely than others, they might see different paths out. I want to help them, I hate to see someone suffer, especially if I feel like it is because of me. It makes me question the whole enterprise. Is it my fault? My fault for wanting better? My Fault for asking for it?

There is a concept in Marxism called adventurism, this article from the International Review sums up the content nicely;

“The adventurer is in general a declasse. There are many such people within bourgeois society, with great ambitions, and with an extremely high estimation of their own abilities, but who are unable to fulfil their high flying ambitions within the ruling class. Full of bitterness and cynicism, such people often slide towards the lumpen-proletariat, living a bohemian or criminal existence. Others prove an ideal work force for the state as informers and agents provocateurs. But among this declassed magma, there are a few exceptional individuals with the political talent to recognise that the workers' movement can give them a second chance. They can try to use it as a springboard to fame and importance, and thus take revenge on the ruling class, which in reality is the object of their efforts and ambitions. Such people are constantly resentful of the failure of society at large to recognise their alleged genius. At the same time they are fascinated, not by marxism or the workers' movement, but by the power of the ruling class and its methods of manipulation.”

Thus, the adventurer is someone who seeks fame and personal success over the wellbeing of the masses, who might see the revolutionary potential of a movement-but manipulates it for their own personal gain. Is this me? In some ways, I share similarities with the characters described above. It would make me perfectly happy to work on liberation all day every day for money, a comfortable amount of money too. I do harbor cynical beliefs about my own potential,I am frustrated that the positions that would make me happiest, educator, writer and worker for the empowerment of others-would require me to abandon any political education of substance. I grieve a life I feel I deserve but am not permitted due to our political moment. I hurt and feel suppressed and am impatient to end that hurt. I think though (and I am alright with those who disagree-you just need to substantiate it) that what separates me from the adventurist is two-fold. My dream of freedom is legitimate and I am more than happy to share. Sure, I do delight in the idea of freedom for myself and am eager to give it to others. I just happen to have a flashy way of going about it.

So, let's come back to responsibility. Who is responsible for inciting the violence? The protestors or the police? Myself or my abuser? What I find most interesting, is that it is both not my responsibility, but also impossibly hard to accept that. The objective truth is this, an oppressor can get to you at any moment for any reason. The oppressed have, by definition of their oppression, no capacity to control the aggression. Our only hope in this life is to continue to try and move forward, no matter their attempts to terrorize because the “right opportunity” might never come in our lifetimes, we must create it.

My biggest mistake growing up wasn’t acknowledging what was happening to me was wrong, my biggest mistake was believing others when they told me it was hopeless. It was not changing tactics. It was allowing myself to live in despair when an adult I believed was my ally began to betray me. It took me a decade to act on the information I knew at the time, that adult acted out onto me what he wished he had the power to act out on our abuser-getting control back from himself at my expense. Forcing him to confront that would have helped us both. But I didn’t, I suffered, blaming myself for ever wanting anything better in this life. I collapsed under the guilt that I had been the cause of my own repression.

It is with an extraordinarily heavy heart that I acknowledge the way forward will not be easy and there is precious little I can do about that. I don’t always have control of who they target. I can’t control who will give up. I can’t control the pain watching another woman suffer will cause me. Men and women invested in patriarchal power will do whatever they can to stop us. Our only recourse, as always, is to gather, to educate, to stand up for one another and keep moving forward, it is our only way of getting to the other side.

#radblr #radical feminism #radical feminist #char on char #radical feminists do touch #radfem safe #radical feminist theory #radfems #radfem

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zaph1337 · 1 year

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Monster Hunter Rating 52: Shakalaka

When I talked about the Felynes, I noted that they--and other Lynians--were people with many cultures and customs. I also said that there were two kinds of Lynian: cat-like or ape-like. With our foray into the Second Generation, we can finally talk about the latter--specifically, the Shakalaka tribe!

(How they appear in the Second Generation)

(Kayanba and Cha-Cha, two notable members of the tribe from Monster Hunter Tri)

Appearance: Most Shakalaka wear next to no clothing, sticking to a mask and loincloth--the latter seems kinda pointless when Felynes can walk around butt-naked, but who am I to judge (I say as I write a review)? The Shakalaka you encounter out in the field seem to stick to a mask that looks like it’s made from a gourd, but it’s probably wooden. Given their propensity for masks, one wonders what they look like underneath.

Perhaps one should have stuck to wondering.

Behavior/Lore: Shakalaka live in large tribes ruled over by kings, and thanks to their intelligence, these tribes can survive in many different environments. Interestingly, while Shakalaka are described as “highly social” (on their wiki page, at least), the ones you encounter on hunts are immediately hostile towards you, so I guess they reserve courtesy for other members of their tribe or maybe even the species as a whole. That being said, some Shakalaka are friendly enough to live in human settlements, though the only examples I know of are literal children, so I can’t say if the adults are as amicable. I can say that Shakalaka likely have their own language, as the Shakalaka you can talk to seem to have a limited understanding of English (considering they can speak it at all at their young age, though, I’m impressed).

Two Shakalaka named Cha-Cha and Kayamba serve as Monster Hunter Tri’s version of Palicoes, and their own story within the game teaches us more about the Shakalaka; for young Shakalaka to be considered adults, they must leave the tribe until they can bring back a treasure of some sort, such as a rare monster material or, in Cha-Cha and Kayamba’s case, a legendary Shakalaka mask. How many of these masks exist is likely unknown, but masks in general are very important to the Shakalaka, to the point where being seen without one on is considered shameful. I guess they don’t like having bamboo shoots for heads (not that I can really blame them).

We don’t see the Shakalaka very often in the series, so we’re not told a lot about them, and I’m not gonna suffer through Tri to learn more from Cha-Cha ‘cause screw that. There are some interesting tidbits--their coming-of-age ritual and their maskless taboo--but unless the Shakalaka appear again in a game with more fleshed-out worldbuilding, I don’t think we’re gonna get much more.

Abilities: Shakalaka won’t always fight directly, instead relying on camouflaging themselves as things in their immediate environment, such as mushrooms. Unfortunately for them, these disguises aren’t exactly subtle, so a Hunter familiar with these tricks will have no trouble avoiding an ambush. That doesn’t mean they’re helpless in a straight-up fight, however; Shakalaka are nimble fighters that rely on overwhelming their enemies with fast attacks (even if said attacks can be clumsy) and status conditions--specifically, Sleep Bombs and poison-laced blades. For more direct damage, they can use Bounce Bombs, which launch themselves forward a short distance before exploding on contact with monsters or terrain.

But the Shakalaka have one more trick up their non-existent sleeves--one which takes advantage of the most primal instinct any gamer has: the urge to grab shiny collectibles. When a monster is struck, they’ll sometimes drop a material that appears as a large sparkle on the ground that appeals to the crow in us all, enticing us to drop what we’re doing and focus on grabbing the shiny before it potentially disappears (or at least, that’s how I play Monster Hunter). It seems the Shakalaka have picked up on this, and will occasionally drop bombs that take the form of “shinies” to trick poor, unsuspecting Hunters into getting themselves blown up by what should have been lovely goodies! Such abuse of what is assuredly human nature should be illegal!

I mean, it’s illegal anywhere where blowing people up is outlawed, so...hm.

It’s clear that Shakalaka recognize that they can’t rely on power to win fights, and this is adapted perfectly into their moves, which utilize their speed and intelligence to wear strong opponents down. Their abilities make the Shakalaka’s survival in a world where they’re so outmatched actually feasible, and I think that’s neat.

Equipment: Since King Shakalaka exist and they share parts with the normies, it was difficult to find weapons for this, and one of the weapons I want to show today doesn’t have any information about its materials. Not like it makes any difference to y’all, though, so I’ll stop wasting time and start with the Sword and Shield called Shaka Poison Bite:

As you can see, not only is the shield based off the Shakalaka’s helmet, the sword is also the same one they use. This may not seem special, but the only other time when we’ve been able to use a monster’s own weapons was with the other Lynians (granted, that’s because non-sapient monsters don’t really use traditional weapons, but still), so I personally think it’s cool that this is less Shakalaka-themed and more genuine Shakalaka.

All that being said, there’s something new here: small brushes on the shield that aren’t seen on Shakalaka helmets. Those are another cool detail, as the description for this weapon says that “[t]he shield's brush is used to apply poison to the blade.” So while it’s a new element, it also has a functional purpose that makes its inclusion seem natural. Overall, this is a solid weapon. Next up is something...interesting. Presenting the Dual Blades known as the Shaka Scarecrows:

These are obviously based off Kayamba and Cha-Cha, and according to their description, “Hunters use them to scare off flying wyverns.“ This means that these had to have been invented after the two Shakalaka found their way to Moga Village, and the Smithy looked at them and decided that they were so ugly that they could probably scare monsters into running away.

Rude. And clearly ineffective, as they don’t repel monsters any more than other Dual Blades--in other words, not at all. This results in the Hunters wielding them being forced to use literal handheld scarecrows as weapons, which they wouldn’t have to resort to if not for a judgemental blacksmith. And this is why you don’t judge people’s appearances, kids: no matter how ugly they may seem to you, they’re probably not repulsive enough to scare off deadly, supernatural creatures. And it’s rude. That’s probably the most relevant takeaway, honestly.

I don’t really have more to say about the Shaka Scarecrows since they’re just Cha-Cha and Kayamba’s heads on sticks, so let’s move on to our third and final weapon: a Switch Axe from Monster Hunter Frontier G:

...there’s a lot to take in here. Firstly, the blade is based off a Shakalaka sword, and the main body is based off the gourd-like masks, so it’s nice that there’s consistency in the design philosophy. Secondly, there’s poison on the rim of the “mask,” which is a nice detail that makes the weapon more organic (am I using that right? I think I’m using that right).

Thirdly, there’s a Felyne inside the gourd.

On one hand, this is funny, because the Felyne comes out (presumably) during Axe mode, so you’re smacking monsters around with a cat that’s constantly smiling at them. On the other hand, why a Felyne? Okay, that’s a rhetorical question; since Shakalaka don’t like to go around without masks, it makes sense that we wouldn’t see one “bare,” so to speak, and since Felynes are also Lynians, they’re the next best thing. This also implies that the smithies who first designed this weapon were aware of the Shakalaka’s maskless taboo, and opted to use a Felyne instead out of respect for the tribe’s wishes. That’s all conjecture, of course, but it’s a nice thought.

Next question: where does the sword blade go when it’s not in use? If you look at the Axe mode of the weapon, you can see that there’s empty space above the Felyne’s head, so it’s not attached to the blade. There’s no room for the sword inside the top half of the mask, either; does it compact itself somehow? Do Monster Hunter weapons work off of RWBY logic? Actually, I could believe that. Okay, mystery solved.

I like that rather than being “tribal themed,” the Shakalaka weapons are themed strictly after themselves; it really gives them their own identity rather than making them seem like a stereotypical tribe. The fact that several of them use poison like the Shakalaka’s own weapons is also a nice touch. Unfortunately, while the wiki says Shakalaka armor exists, there are no images of the sets, so we’ll have to end off here.

Final Thoughts: I’m glad that the devs put in so much effort to make it clear that the Shakalaka are people; the way they fight shows their intelligence, and we know a bit about their culture. Granted, it’s only a bit, but there’s always the chance that we’ll learn more in the future. Until then, I’m satisfied with what we have.

#Monster Hunter #Monster Hunter rating #zaph1337

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southitaly · 4 years

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On Historical Hetalia Collective

TW: anti-blackness and anti-Indigenous racism, Islamophobia, abusive language, gaslighting.

Posting on a burner acct mainly because I’ve survived tumblr death threats/doxxing before and don’t want to deal with it again. I’ve been contemplating coming forward about this for a while — it’s been three and a half years since this transpired. In the historical APH fandom in particular, we are especially prone to thinking we are different from the “fashy” fans who don’t have a problem with Nazi Germany being a character in the show, with its casual dismissal of colonial and genocidal history, and its erasure of the Shoah and the war crimes of imperial Japan (amongst scores of other things). Those of us who enjoy playing with the premise and focusing on a more faithful depiction of history seem to think we are exempt from recreating those same oppressive structures in our own work, in our own fandom groups and relationships. This is absolutely not the case.

Most of this took place approx. January through May 2017. I was freshly 21 at the time and the people responsible were ~19-20; I recognize that people change, and make mistakes, and grow, especially at that age. But I can also safely say at 19 I was not doing or saying these kinds of things to people, and that if I did and have forgotten, I believe I should be held responsible for those things. That being said, I also believe that these events must be brought to light.

I joined historical hetalia collective in the late summer of 2016 at its founding. At the time, I did not emphasize my Métis identity because, as someone who is also Italian and has a strong interest in Italian history, it was not the focus of why I wanted to join and what I wanted to discuss. I was very excited to talk with other creators in what I assumed was an anti-racist, canon-critical setting. Lyz, then “yelyzavetaart” on tumblr, along with one other person was a founder. I was the first person appointed as a moderator, eventually joined on the moderator team of about five people, including Alex stirringwinds and a white Ukrainian-American person who went by “ilaaer”.

It was around winter 2016 that a user named Baguette (at the time petitebaguette on tumblr) joined. Baguette very quickly began saying incredibly racist things in the server; most did not address it. Baguette maintained that reverse racism was real, that white women were targeted specifically for sexual violence by men of color, & that Europe does not owe reparations to First Nations and other Indigenous people, amongst other things.

When I voiced discomfort — pointing out that as an Indigenous person, much of her racism was pointed at people like myself in particular and not necessarily at the non-Black, non-Indigenous others to the same extent— people on the mod team were quick to tell me that I was being out of line and aggressive in my approach. When I advocated for her to be banned, others on the team were quick to give her another warning, another chance, instead. This resulted in an incredibly hostile environment; instead of a racist European being told to examine her bigotry, the group decided it was more important to tell me to watch my tone.

I truly began to question my own experience and all of my relationships on the server. All of these people who I loved to speak to about history and things I cared about did not actually care about my well being, let alone that of others experiencing similar things. I was not more important than the collective’s optics; standing in solidarity with Native people was less important than any bridges that might be burned in doing so. I was concerned about the effect that such rhetoric going unchallenged would have on younger members; I did not like what kind of conclusions were being encouraged.

It culminated when Baguette posted about the “preferential” treatment Muslims got from the French government over Christians, a major Islamophobic dogwhistle. As someone who has also lived in France I decided to challenge her on her beliefs. When she reacted poorly, I was blamed, stripped of my moderator title, and effectively banned as well.

Upon telling me I was being removed, Lyz said something to the effect of me being “hostile” towards a person who said genocide, as a European, was not her problem, and that members in the collective should not be “caught in the crossfire” of our dispute. I would argue that being on the receiving end of a racist tirade is not a “personal dispute” -- the team absolutely failed to address the problem and then also blamed the person who was being targeted.

While I commend Lyz for trying to be diplomatic at the time, Lyz had zero problem banning an openly homophobic European (by the name of Nessai) a few months prior. Somehow, when the question of Native people came up, Lyz — and the other non-Natives on the administrative “board” — could not summon that same conviction. Somehow, a Native person could not be given that same empathetic treatment. Baguette’s racism was condemned in private, sure, but decisive anti racist action was far too “radical”. I should not have to elaborate on how and why this is racist.

In short, tumblr user petitebaguette (now sartreslemonade) was a virulent racist. Users Alex stirringwinds, Lyz neviart, ilaaer, and many others were not only complicit, but enabled that behavior by systematically gaslighting and then deplatforming the one Native person on the moderator team who demanded she be removed for her actions. All of them should be held responsible, and creators of color (especially Black and Indigenous creators) in the APH fandom should be aware of this.

I have included screenshots of some of these conversations below — I sincerely invite others to make the judgment themselves. I know of at least one other Native person who had similar problems in this same collective, not long after I left. I do not know if there are others — I know people can and do change. I hope that by the time this is posted, all those mentioned can and are doing better by Native and Black people. I hope that my story does not repeat itself in other mouths with the same cast of people. I have included what I have been able to recover/keep over the years: my letter of dismissal from Lyz, some of the things Baguette was saying, the interaction between myself and Baguette when talking about anti-indigenous racism in France, and Alex’s response to that conversation.

Lyz’s letter:

Some examples of the things Baguette was saying:

Interaction between myself and her about reparations for Native people:

Alex’s response:

#aph #hetalia #axis powers hetalia #historical hetalia #hetalia: axis powers

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yourgalaxy · 4 years

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~FINDING HOME~ (Part 5)

Pairing: Taehyung x female O/C

Genre: Fluffyest Fluffy Fluff, a little bit of angst if you squint really hard.

Summary: After getting used to the idea of just being her and her little daughter against the world. Autumn is proven wrong once again when fate has different plans for them.

Warnings: None

Word count: 2865

A/N: The original prompt is from @hybridfanfiction ( their prompts are the cutest, check them out!) This is my first attempt on sharing some of my work and is also my first hybrid fic. I love the reader inserts but not a fan of the Y/N type thing so feel free to just imagine your name instead if you prefer! I have material to make this a series but will leave it as a one shot for now to see if you guys like it! I totally don’t own the gifts.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Read at your own risk 😂

Extra A/N: I didn’t get the chance to post this last week but to compensate you guys, I’ll be posting the first part of my new Mafia Au, so watch out for it!

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

After being living with Autumn and Haneul for a month and a half, Taehyung was finally meeting the rest of their family, he had already met Jin, Jimin and Jungkook and even though it was hard for him to trust them fully, he had decided that he liked the three males… Not that any of them really knew that because Taehyung still avoided them every time he could, though it was not really possible to avoid Jimin after he discovered that he and Taehyung were the same age and decided that they were to be best friends.

‘’ Mamma… MAMMA...Mamma, can Tata be my daddy?’’ - That finally caught Autumn’s full attention, she turned around making sure that the hybrid was still taking a shower, praying that he couldn’t hear them over the running water and his own singing voice. She rushed to kneel in front of her daughter. - ‘’ Haneul, baby, that’s not something that we should say...’’ ‘’ But mamma, he tells me stories to sleep and sings to me and tucks me in sometimes, all the kids have a daddy and…and I saw it on tv, the daddy that lives together with you and your mamma, and tells you stories is your daddy! Does my Tata don’t want to be my daddy?’’ - Haneul’s pretty eyes swelled with unshed tears at the idea, and Autumn could have sworn that she heard her own heart break. - ‘’ No honey bear, you know your Tata loves you very, very much! He tells you that all the time, right? It’s just that for a woman and a man to be a mommy and a daddy they have to really really love each other a lot. - She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her 5 year old daughter, her flushed little face was destroying her heart. -

"But momma, don't you love Tata?" - Autumn could practically see the engines in her daughter's head starting to over think, tears threatening with reappearing.- "I do sweetheart, I do, but it's just a little bit different for adults, you know, adults are dumb sometimes and things don't work the same for us...Let’s talk about it later, ok? we need to go see your uncles!"

"Noona, I'm ready!" - Autumn felt her soul come back to her body when Taehyung decided to appear, giving her the chance to escape the impossible conversation she was having with her daughter. She smiled at him, noticing the way he was referring to her, she was almost sure that it had to do with spending so much time with Jimin.-

The drive to Yoongi’s apartment was filled with loud singing and laughs. The prospect of getting together with her best friends had Autumn in a really good mood, and even though Taehyung felt really nervous, the smiles on both mother and daughter’s faces helped him breathe easier. He knew most of the men they were getting together with but the fact that they were actually entering the territory of another hybrid, one that he hadn’t met yet, was nerve wracking. He was worried that his instincts would get the best of him and he would piss Autumn’s loved ones off, how would Autumn react? what would she think of him? would she start hating him if her friends didn’t like him?

Taehyung didn’t have to wonder for too long. Everybody’s temper was tested when Hobi had to let go of Autumn as she was being yanked back by a strong arm towards a wide chest, a low growl vibrating against her back. Sensing the hostility in his own territory kicked Hoseok’s instincts on, even though Autumn and Haneul weren’t his humans, they were part of his family and he felt really protective of them, so soon there was a battle of growls and silent snarls. For a few moments none of them really acknowledged the attempts of the others to calm them down.

‘’ Tata, don’t be mean to uncle Hobi, I promise he is really nice!’’ - Haneul’s innocent voice and the way she hugged his leg was what brought Taehyung back to his senses . As soon as he stopped growling, Hoseok did the same, he understood where the younger hybrid was coming from, he remembered being in the same place a few years ago, he wasn’t about to let him cross the line in his territory, establishing hierarchy was a basic hybrid instinct anyway, but he was also excited for the new addition to the friend group even if he was not about to show that at the moment. -

Taehyung was utterly embarrassed about his conduct and after a solid ten minutes of being scolded first by Autumn an then by Jimin, he just wanted to curl up into a ball in a corner and cry his heart out, but they were so loving even when scolding him that he couldn't even do that. He hesitated but ultimately approached Hoseok who was setting things up for the movie night.

‘’Hyung… I… I’m really sorry about earlier… it’s not really excuse for my behavior but…”- Before he could finish his apology, he was attacked by a very effusive fox hybrid, Hoseok was bouncing on the balls of his feet, too excited by the idea of having a new hybrid friend, Taehyung couldn’t help the smile that divided his lips.-

‘’ I’m really sorry about that, Yoongs. Taehyung is a little bit weary of males, and new environments are a little hard for him to take in.’’ - Autumn was worn out by the whole scene, feeling sorry and guilty for everyone in the room, she didn’t blame Taehyung, she knew well enough of his apprehension towards males and she knew how protective hybrids could get when facing threats to who they considered their people, specially in the presence of other hybrids. She remembered the first time she met Hoseok with a shiver. But she couldn’t stop feeling bad for her friends. It was their home at the end of the day.-

‘’ Hoseok, really likes him, I can see it in his face that he already is taking him under his wing. I don’t think we will have any problem. - Yoongi assured with a wink as he motioned towards the three hybrids that seem to have engaged in an enthusiastic conversation about what movies to watch, after Jimin joined them in the living room. Autumn felt her body relax, realizing how worried she was until that moment, a soft smile appearing on her face. -

‘’ Uncle Yoongi, up!’’ - A new battle arised, this time, between Yoongi and Jungkook fighting over who was Haneul’s favorite with Haneul enjoying herself in the shower of attention and love she was getting. -

‘’ He really is the right fit, isn’t he?’’ - Jin's voice came from behind her before a pair of arms encircled her shoulders. She let herself relax in his embrace, feeling happy to be home, loving how her brothers embraced Taehyung so effortlessly.- ‘’ Haneul asked me if Taehyung could be her new dad’’ - She whispered, knowing that Jin was close enough to hear her and everyone else was so loud that she doubted they could hear her even if she were to scream it. She felt Jin humming in thought, it wasn’t a surprise to him even though this was the first time Haneul had ever said something like that. - It is good for her to have some kind of father figure in her life… And if he is sticking around for a while… How do you feel though? - She knew exactly what he was referring to, her an her friends never really payed any attention to the stigma that interracial relationships between humans an hybrids carried with them, but she had given up on dating a long time ago, men were too inmature, too insensitive and she didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with someone else’s child. - ‘’ I don’t know Jinnie, I haven’t really consider it, I mean, he is one of the most caring an loving people I’ve met, always looking out for both of us and looking for ways to collaborate, you know how happy he was when you offered him to work at the flower shop, an he loves Haneul so dearly, she loves him even more, I’m afraid she will get hurt if anything were to happen and he decided to leave… But we are not in that type of relationship, Jin. I am his sponsor and he is our hybrid, and I’m totally fine with that.’’ - Jin left a soft brief kiss on top of her head, hugging her a little closer.-

‘’Then there is nothing to worry about, Mamma Bear.’’ - Autumn closed her eyes in contentment, right on time to miss the look that Taehyung directed to them, but Jin was able to catch the turmoil of emotions that twirled in his eyes. A knowing smile dancing on his lips, He knew how dense Autumn could be when it came to this topic, it would be fun to see how these two would figure things out.He had the hunch that Taehyung was there to stay, and his hunches were usually right-

‘’ Jin hyung, stop hoarding noona all to yourself and come sit, we are about to start the movie!’’ - Hoseok complained in a whine that Jin responded with a scoff before complaying and dragging Autumn with him.- ‘’Next time we should invite Namjoon, Yoongi hyung! ‘’

‘’ Yeah, I like him’’ - Autumn and Jungkook agreed and Yoongi just nodded lazily. Asking them to be quiet and start the movie. Autumn’s fingers immediately found their way through Taehyung’s soft locks when he seated himself on the ground in front of her, resting his head on her knee, missing the heavy tears that rolled across his cheeks. -

…

Autumn woke up gasping for air, her heart felt like it was held in an iron grip, she couldn’t breath, and for a minute she wondered if she was about to die. She didn’t realize she was crying until she rubbed her hands over her face and felt the wetness on her cheeks. The images of the nightmare are very vivid in her mind. It was the same nightmare she had had ever since Ha Neul's dad had left, just that this time, there was a spin to it that made her sick to her stomach.

She didn’t notice Taehyung sitting on the ground next to the door until after, in her fuzzed state of mind, she almost fell over him, being stabilized by his firm hands, she heard him whimper. Her eyes filled with tears one more time as she felt herself getting lost in his bright brown orbs. She straightened up and as she pulled on her arms to free them from the Hybris grip, Taehyung let go of her. He soon trailed behind her, buzzing with worry.

Autumn wasn’t sure for how long she was zoning out with the untouched glass of water firmly held in her hand, when she felt Taehyung’s larger hand over hers as he loosened her grip, taking the glass away from her and holding her hand on his. She followed him almost unconsciously as he led her to the couch. He sitted and then led her to sit almost on his lap, they were so close that when his hand cooped the side of her face to have her look at him, she could feel his warm cinnamon breath fanning against her skin. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Taehyung was tracing invisible circles over the skin of her jaw and cheek with the pad of his thumb, both of them getting lost in each other’s eyes when he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘’ Please… Please don’t cry, don’t be sad… It hurts so much… It hurts so, so much’’ - He knew about her nightmares, at least the ones that she usually had where her ex-husband abandoned her and Haneul over and over again, she had mentioned them once when he found her just zoning out in the living room, unable to go back to sleep after a nightmare. His voice was strained, it sounded like it was in the bearge of breaking. As she remained silent, he gained some courage from the wonder and affection that her eyes always seemed to reflect when she looked at him. He traced over her face with the tip of his nose, in one of the most intimate shows of affection for hybrids, subtly breathing her in. She felt her cheeks burn as her heart threatened with leaving her chest, but didn’t make any attempt to move away from his touch. -

‘’ If you would just let me… If you will just look at me the way… If only I could become a man in your eyes. - He closed his eyes as he rested his forehead over hers, a pained expression claiming his sharp features. His lips almost brushing over hers as he spoke. Autumn felt so vulnerable, yet so safe there in his embrace. She took the opportunity to notice all of his little details like the cute little freckles in his nose, his left cheek and the side of his chin, or the way his long lashes rested on top of his cheek bones as he closed his eyes, his rosy lips an the natural blush that seemed to be always present over his honey like skin. Taehyung was simply breathtaking.

Her fingers brushed against his jaw line in an almost hesitant movement, skimming over his skin in a feather like touch but it got him to relax immediately, the frown disappearing, he let out a relieved sigh, the feeling of her touch over his skin felt like a lullaby to his heart. But then there was something soft and sweet pressed against his parted lips, his heart pounded against his ribcage. The contact lasted mere seconds making him whine in the absence of it. He opened his eyes, facing the storm on hers. She was searching for his reaction, he could see the fear aflame in the depth of her grey orbs.

He knew at that very moment that he would give his life for this woman in a blink.

‘’ Noona...Can you do that again?’’ - He breathed out a plea over her lips, his eyes going back and forth from her eyes to her lips as if he was begging her, and he was, by all means ready to beg for her. She moved painfully slowly, her eyes also wandering over his face until her lips met his once again and this time, Taehyung took his time to savor her, his hand sneaked to the back of her head to keep her in place, he felt so blissfully light headed that he wouldn’t be surprised if he was to wake up the next morning and realize that it was just another dream. He almost cried out loud when she pulled away from him.

‘’ Taehyung… I... ‘’ - He didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to know what her eyes were trying to say. He could sense the confusion, the fear that rolled out of her like crashing waves. The little bit of her conversation he had overheard a few weeks ago back at Yoongi’s apartment playing over and over in his head.’I’m just his sponsor and he is our hybrid’ she had said crushing the fluttering hope that had erupted in his chest when he had heard how she told Jin about. Haneul asking if he could be her dad, he wasn’t able to hear the whole conversation but what he heard was enough for him to understand his place in their lives.

He had convinced himself that he was completely ok with that, he was happy to at least be allowed to just stay with them but after the moment they just shared he understood how greedy he had become and how much of them he wanted. He couldn’t take it.

‘’ It’s because I’m a hybrid, right? ‘’ - He murmured more to himself than anything else but she heard him and tried to stop him in a panicked attempt. He couldn’t take it, he needed to get out, he needed some time to think. -

And so, he ran. His heartbeat was so loud that it was the only thing he could hear. So loud that he couldn’t hear her

‘’No, that’s not...no, please no… Don’t leave us… Don’t leave me’’ - Autumn could feel the panic attack closing her throat. Incapable of really moving to try and console her hysteric 5 year old that had woken up to the image of her beloved hybrid hero running away and her mom becoming a crying mess. -

#thetruthuntoldnet #bts fic #bts hybrid au #bts au fanfic #BTS jimin #BTS jin #bts jhope #bts yoongi #btsv #bts tae tae #bts taehyung #bts hybrid fluff #bts hybrid series #hybrid taehyung #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts jungkook #jimin hybrid

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years

Text

A LESSON IN ARCHERY (part I/II)

Summary: Certain member of the company might have gotten Kíli smitten. Sadly, Thorin is not exactly fond of her, and the last thing Kíli wanted was to go against his uncle's will.

Pairing: Kíli x Hobbit!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @queenofmankind @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: I have a Dwalin x reader request on the making I'm kinda struggling with, so in the meantime, enjoy this first part of a two-part fic of Kíli <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Pretty" I commented, moving away from Fíli and in Y/n's direction. "the bow, I mean."

"Sad," she faked a pout at me and then resumed her excrutination of her newly acquired weapon. "I thought you meant me."

"Defining you only as pretty would be offensive." she snorted and I gave her a playful smile with my arm extended, prompting her to hand me the bow. "You know how to use it?"

"I thought you could teach me?" she suggested, a mischievous grin on her lips. "I could use some lessons." she took a couple of steps towards me and stood way closer than what was necessary to pick up the bow from my hands. "If you don't mind, of course."

I had to fight the urge of closing the space between us and crashing my lips against hers. "I do not." instead, I allowed myself to steal a stare at her mouth, tightened due to her smile. "I will get more alone time with you."

"Oh, you would love that," she teased, grabbing the bow and stepping back. "Wouldn't you."

"Indeed." I confessed, biting my lower lip. "can you blame me, though?"

"Kíli." I looked over Y/n's shoulder to be met with Thorin’s cold eyes. "Come, I have to speak to you."

"I'll go do... something... Elsewhere." Y/n turned around to take a look at Thorin before leaving me there.

"What is it?" I inquired, stalking to my uncle, who led me away from any nosy ears before starting the conversation.

"What do you think about Y/n?" his question was cryptic, even more than usual.

"I think she's kind and funny." I spoke not entirely truthful. "She learns fast."

"Fíli mentioned you're fond of her." my jaw clenched and my shoulders tensed. "Is that true?"

"No!" I replied, way too fast for it to be a reliable answer. "I mean, yes but only as far as friendship reaches."

"That's good." Thorin’s eyes dug into Y/n's back as she talked with Bofur. "I wouldn't like to get in your heart's way."

"Wait- what?" I burrowed my brows in confusion. "Why would you have to get in my heart's way?"

"You are a prince, Kíli." Thorin spoke apathetic. It was no secret that he, at his best, tolerated Y/n, but it felt like he was taking that to another level. "I could never allow such relationship."

"But- why? What does that have to be with anything?" I knew my already poor lie was crumbling, but I was not only confused, I was concerned.

"She's a hobbit." the despise in his tone made me step back. "It's just not possible." I stood there with my mouth in agape and my heart aching. "Kíli, do you understand?"

"But-"

"Spare your heart, nephew." he spun around ready to leave and placed a hand over my shoulder, giving me an intent glance. I knew by the look in his eyes that he was dead serious. "Do not suffer for what it cannot be."

Once I was left alone, leaving the command to sink in whilst looking at Y/n. How was I supposed to spare my heart? She already had it.

READER'S P. O. V.

I grabbed another arrow from the quiver, tied with a belt around my waist, and placed it on the bow, taking my arm back and aiming as I could before shooting.

I missed my target. Again.

A frustrated huff escaped my lips. Not all the fault fell over my capabilities with the bow though, it also happened to be dusk, and light was lacking. It was a pity that the only moment I could practice was the end of the daylight.

I repeated the process once more; I missed once more. Maybe if Kíli hadn't been avoiding being near me at all, I could have asked him for help.

Another try.

Just when I was about to let go of the arrow, I heard a voice behind me. "Don't do it like that."

"Are you stalking me?" I joked, turning my torso to meet the prince's eyes.

"I have better things to do." Kíli retorted in what was meant to sound as a joke, but inevitably hid some hostility.

"Now that you're here, though," I lowered the bow and made the arrow spin before handing it to him. "Why don't you teach me how to do it?" He looked to his left as if he was meditating if he should leave or not. "You agreed on giving me some lessons and I'm yet to have the first one."

"Okay," his hands picked the weapon from mines. "it'll be a quick lesson so pay attention will you?" I nodded, leaning against the tree besides me. "stand like-" he stomped his foot on the floor to lead my attention there. "this." he leaned on me and took an arrow from the quiver, getting a little too close before immediately retreating. "Take your arm back- chest up, arms steady, and let go." The arrow hit the center of the target and he handed me the bow back. "try."

I grabbed another arrow and followed his steps, in a seemingly perfect way, but before I could shoot the arrow he stopped me.

"Wait, not like this- your body has to be more-" his hands went to my hips and turned me to the side with a tug. "there. Also, it's better if you do it quick." he guided my arms and spread them faster than I had done. "try again." I did it once more, this time as he told me. "okay now chest up."

"my chest is up." I replied, and immediately observed him moving behind me. "what-" I involuntarily gasped when his hands tweaked my shoulders. "we're running out of light." I commented slightly stressed.

"we still have time, take a breath and relax." he whispered near my ear, "hold on like this." his hands lingered on my shoulders for a second, after which he moved away and circled me to stand by my side. "now."

My arrow hit right besides his and dug deep into the target. "Yes!" I exclaimed putting down the bow once more. "That was a great shot."

"I am a great teacher." he stated with a grin that as soon as had appeared, vanished. "I should go."

"Hold on, Kíli," I grasped his wrist and brought him back to me. "Tell me what's the matter?" I questioned, already tired of his sudden distant attitude towards me. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!"

"Then what's the reason for this behavior?" his eyes told me he wanted to speak up, but his lips didn't even part. "I thought we were friends?"

"We are."

"Then?"

"Thorin is not fond of you."

I widened my eyes in shock. "Does that mean you are not allowed to be fond of me?"

He shook his head no. "It is not like that."

"How is it then?"

There was that look again, though he refrained himself from saying whatever he wanted to, once more.

"You should come back to the others," he simply replied, setting free from my grasp. "it's getting late."

"What about you?" I questioned with a frown as I walked to the target in order to get the arrows back.

"I was sent to scout." he replied distractedly, for he had his attention on our surroundings to assure no one was with us, nor friend nor foe.

I stopped walking back to my previous position. "Alone?"

"I won't go too far," he soothed me, kicking a small rock with his boot. "I will probably be back way before daybreak."

"I don't think it's safe."

Kíli looked up from his feet to meet my eyes, "Don't stress about it," the dwarf then gifted me a brief yet sincere smile. "I'm stealthy."

I sighed with a mix of tiredness and defeat. "whatever you say, little prince."

He let out a soft laughter and casted his gaze down again. "In truth we didn't need Bilbo, I could—" he almost choked on his words when, unexpectedly for the both of us, I steadied myself with his arm and stood on my tiptoes to plant a peck on his cheek.

"If you're not back before daybreak I will worry." I warned him, making my way back to the improvised camp without sparing a second look at him, fearing he might notice the blush on my cheeks even with that poor light we then had.

I, therefore, wasn't able to see him standing there, dumbfounded, with his own face red and his fingertips ghosting over his cheekbone.

#durin's sons imagine #kili x reader #kili x reader fluff #kili x reader request #kili fanfic #kili oneshot #kili smut #the hobbit fanfiction #Kili Durin x reader #Kili x hobbit reader #Kili imagine #Kili x reader imagine #Kili x reader series #Kili x hobbit reader fanfic #Kili masterlist #Kili angst #Kili Durin imagine #Kili x reader angst

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sleepymarmot · 4 years

Text

Opinion: MAG 187 doesn’t invalidate Helen’s more sympathetic moments

It is possible to interpret the episode as retconning everything the Distortion has ever said and done into a manipulation targeted at Jon, which would undo the character’s complexity and make them revolve entirely around the protagonist. The key for this interpretation seems to lie in the following exchange:

ARCHIVIST You worked to hurt us and help us, all with the same smile, until we can barely tell one from the other. Keeping us off-balance, constantly second-guessing our own opinions of you. Never quite crossing a line we could never forgive, but never putting yourself on the line either. And when one face finally stopped smiling, you just changed the face.

HELEN Fine. So if that’s all true… why? Why would I do any of that? What’s my actual motive?

ARCHIVIST I don’t think you even have one. It’s just what you are.

But I don’t think most of what was said here is new information.

Let’s go back to season 3. Here’s how the newborn Helen Distortion explains her identity:

HELEN Michael isn’t me. Not now.

ARCHIVIST What happened?

HELEN He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me. Lost my way.

In other words, the Distortion’s modus operandi is a long, long game of cat and mouse (see also: MAG 146 Threshold). Michael got sidetracked by his (or Michael Shelley’s) revenge against the Archivist(s) and decided to actually kill the mouse. But it was unnatural for the Distortion, so it shook off the troublesome identity, and Helen was both an instrument to get rid of Michael and a continuation of what was started by him and worked so well.

ARCHIVIST A-are you still going to kill me?

HELEN No. That was Michael’s desire, not mine.

The Distortion doesn’t want to send the Archivist into its corridors. Why would it, when it’s so rewarding to misdirect and mess with him in other ways?

Now, for episode 115.

HELEN I… I’m not… I’m not entirely sure. I’m… having trouble. I don’t think I was meant to be Helen.

ARCHIVIST I’m – I don’t understand.

HELEN Neither do I. Michael was… pulling away. His anger was interfering. I don’t, I don’t think I have a choice but to be Helen. Self is difficult.

ARCHIVIST Michael, he, uh, he, he wasn’t meant to be you either, though, was he?

HELEN No.

There’s an internal conflict between Helen and the Distortion -- just like there was between Michael and the Distortion. I don’t think the new episode invalidates or undoes that. On the contrary: it restated that Michael strayed from the Distortion’s purpose, which means Helen could have done the same.

HELEN Something happened when I became ‘Helen’. She wasn’t right, she wasn’t ready.

ARCHIVIST I don’t…

HELEN Before, talking to you made Helen feel better.

ARCHIVIST You’re not that Helen!

HELEN I just want… I just want to feel better.

Helen was supposed to be a meal that replenished the Distortion’s energy. But it seems that the food was not as fully digested as the Distortion would prefer, and tried to bite back.

ARCHIVIST Wh-what? Why should I believe… a-a-any of this? You’ve told me over and over that you’re… what was the phrase? The ‘throat of delusion’? All of this is –

HELEN I have never told you a lie, Archivist. I wouldn’t dare. I, I just thought you might understand.

ARCHIVIST Uh… How could I possibly…

HELEN We’re both changing, Archivist. I had hoped, that together –

The Distortion has never lied (and now we know why). The Distortion has truly changed. Its new face genuinely wanted Jon’s company, just like the previous face had wanted him dead. But both faces interact with Jon in a way that leaves him confused and upset, because such is their nature.

In MAG 131, Helen insists that her identity is not a mask but a new but inseparable part of herself. As we now know, she is not lying:

ARCHIVIST

You’re still wearing her face.

HELEN

Not this again. I’m not “wearing” anything, Archivist. I am at least as much ‘Helen Richardson’ as you are the ‘Jonathan Sims’ that first joined this Institute. Things change. People change. It happens.

We get a double confirmation that Helen is different from the Distortion’s previous incarnations in MAG 146, in the words of both Helen and her victim:

This wasn’t like before; there was no playfulness here, none of that malicious joy that I had always felt coming off it. Now there was just a cold hunger, a deep anger, as though I had no right to just stand there looking at it. The street was silent, but I could feel it screaming at me to open it.

HELEN (all business) Oh, well; the son, I was pursuing long before I was even Michael. And technically, I didn’t eat the old man. He passed away from terror long before I got a chance to open properly.

ARCHIVIST His son Marcus – he – he was fine when I read his father’s statement two years ago, but now, suddenly, I can’t get through to him.

HELEN No. I imagine not. I decided it was time to finish that game a few months ago.

ARCHIVIST You – Why?

HELEN Not sure. I suppose Helen didn’t have quite the same attachment to him as a project. I’m not quite as much for decades-long campaigns of subtle terror these days.

ARCHIVIST (soft) That’s horrible.

HELEN Is it? We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? (pointed) Don’t we, Archivist?

Helen Distortion doesn’t derive joy from terrorizing people for months or years with doors. That’s just food now. Now she gets the same joy from messing with people with the help of her humanlike appearance and personality.

An often-quoted line from MAG 152:

HELEN Even if it were capable of doing so, what possible reason would the Eye have to change how you feel, when it makes no difference to your actions? Helen was like you, at first. She felt such guilt over taking people. Until one day she realized she wasn’t going to stop doing it. So she chose to stop feeling guilty.

Again, the new episode confirms two things: 1) Helen wasn’t lying. 2) Helen was telling this to Jon to make him doubt his loyalties. And again, this is not new information! She laughs at his misery and confusion very openly!

Episode 157. Jon gets a shocking reminder that Helen is Just Here To Troll:

HELEN Because I have a good enough sense of what’s going on to know that it will be much more fun without my involvement! (begins laughing)

...

ARCHIVIST Just tell me what’s going on. Please.

HELEN (gleefully) Bad things, Archivist. Really bad things.

MAG 164, Helen’s first appearance in s5. There’s so much going on, let’s try to list at least some of it: she congratulates jonmartin on their relationship, immediately tries to play them against each other, cheerfully deflects all blame onto Jon and also Georgie and Melanie, admits to betrayal, announces she wants to be friends “again”, then expresses pity that Jon isn’t hostile to her enough. Absolutely everything she does is about creating relationship chaos.

MAG 166, second encounter with Helen post-Change, and she is delighted to see disagreement between Jon and Martin unprompted by her:

MARTIN Yeah, I, I, I think we should go for it, get our murder on!

ARCHIVIST (disbelief) Sorry, what?

HELEN (surprised delight) Yes, Martin!

In MAG 177, she moves the focus of ridiculously blatant manipulation and provocation onto Basira, and also doesn’t bother to hide she enjoys scaring her “friends”:

HELEN Not interrupting anything, Am I?

MARTIN Christ, Helen, you scared the life out of me.

HELEN [Insincere] Sorry, darling.

And finally, MAG 183. By now, everyone in the scene is aware that she’s here just to get a rise out of our heroes and metaphorically eat popcorn.

MARTIN Look. Listen, I’m getting really sick of all thi–

ARCHIVIST Leave it, Martin. She’s just trying to get under your skin.

MARTIN Yeah? Well, she’s really good at it!

HELEN Aww. Thanks, sweetie. But to be honest, I’m mainly just here to see which path you choose.

Which brings us to MAG 187. We already know that Helen isn’t Jon and Martin’s “friend” as in “ally” -- she hangs out with them to provoke strong responses and sow chaos. The plot twist is that she’s not just doing it for fun, like a human would -- it is her way of avatar feeding.

The Distortion has always been a trickster. I am glad that they died this way, instead of becoming either an over-the-top villain or a reluctant hero -- before the plot could corner them into becoming one. And as Jon said, the reason Helen had to die was not her trickster nature, but the side she picked on the “Eyepocalipse: keep or cancel?” issue.

The reveal in 187 does not contradict the information we had before, and so it doesn’t retcon or undo the complexity or character development that the Distortion had. The fact that the Distortion fed on Jon (and others’) reaction to them does not mean that they never had any motivations or thoughts beyond that. Jon says it himself: “keeping us off-balance” is not the Distortion’s motivation, it’s “who they are”, it’s the natural, instinctive way they conduct themselves. We have learned that the Distortion's behavior was Eldritch Trolling instead of Regular Trolling, that's all.

#the magnus archives #tma spoilers #mag 187 #helen distortion #blah blah blah

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years

Text

living in the real world (ain’t it fun) CHAPTER 8

cw: swearing, tension, angst, antagonistic behaviors, anxiety attack

wordcount: ~3.6k

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 // read it on ao3!!

“Do you want to be carried inside, or can you walk?”

Anxiety, who’s spent the entire car ride curled into a tight ball between Logan and Thomas and very distinctly not touching either of them, startles like he’s been electrocuted. “What?!” Thomas raises his hands in careful surrender, watching Anxiety, doing his best to keep a handle on the panic attack that’s been building in his chest for the past few hours. It’s hard to parse his own fear from Anxiety’s fear.

Then again, Anxiety himself is a manifestation of Thomas’s fear, so it probably doesn’t matter as much if he separates the two.

“We’re home.” Thomas keeps his voice low and soft, like he’s talking to a child who’s just scraped their knee or a feral cat. “Do you want me to carry you inside, or can you walk?”

“Why the fuck would you carry me?!” Patton opens his mouth in the driver’s seat, like he’s going to call out Anxiety’s language, but Thomas shakes his head and Patton shuts his mouth. Roman hunches in on himself in the passenger seat, glaring out the windshield.

“You got hurt when Roman -”

“Tackled and hog-tied me like a lamb for the fucking slaughter?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Well, I”m fine. I can walk by myself.” Logan opens the door, and Anxiety scrambles over him and slithers out into the garage. Logan blinks at his lap, startled, and Anxiety hunches in on himself next to the door into the house.

“That was . . . unprecedented.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Are we seriously just going to allow him to live with us?” Roman hisses. “He’s a villain , Thomas, did you forget? All he does is hurt you, and now we’re supposed to welcome him into our home and just accept him?!”

“It’s important to be nice to everyone!” Patton says. “Anxiety may be a little gloomy, but he’s still part of Thomas! I think we should try to -”

“How do you know that he won’t turn on us -”

“If you just give him a chance -”

“I must admit that it does not seem advantageous to willingly accept an antagonist into our midst -”

“He’s only an antagonist because we constantly fight with him -”

“Enough!” Thomas snaps, throwing his hands up in exasperation. All three sides in the car fall silent. “It’s late. We’re exhausted, we’re over-emotional, and none of us are thinking clearly enough to deal with this situation. We should all go inside and go to bed. We’ll work on this more in the morning, okay?”

He looks to where Anxiety bristles next to the door. He’s clearly heard everything, and he’s biting his lower lip like he has a personal vendetta against it. “Does that work for you, Anxiety?”

“Why does it matter what he thinks?” Roman mutters. Anxiety flips him off.

“You didn’t answer me, Anxiety. Can we address this in the morning?” Anxiety flips his hood up to hide his face, but he flashes a thumbs-up at Thomas before shoving his hands back into his hoodie pockets. “Cool. Inside the house, all of you.”

Thomas saw a picture on the internet, once, an intricately painted crow with the text slogan “Dealing with you is like herding cats.” He thinks that trying to corral all his sides is a little bit like that.

*~*~*~*~*

It takes Roman approximately fifteen minutes of jumping up and down on the manual pump of Thomas’s air mattress before Logan can dredge up the memory of how to work the automatic pump. Patton makes a huge pot of tea, while Anxiety huddles in a ball on the chair.

“Do any of you need pajamas? You’ve all been sleeping in these clothes this past little while, but I don’t know how comfortable that is . . .”

“We do not require a change of clothes,” Logan says. “However, I will be the first to confess that these pants are not the most conducive to sleeping.”

Thomas rifles through his drawers and pulls out some older, oversized t-shirts and comfortable sleep pants and sweatpants. Roman and Patton fit easily into his clothes, but Logan has to pull the drawstring almost comically tight to get the pajamas to stay up around his slender teenager-sized hips. “Anxiety? Do you wanna take off your -”

“I’m not taking off my jacket.” Anxiety jerks backwards so sharply that he collides with the headboard of the bed. Thomas tenses in preparation for stinging pain when he hears Anxiety’s head crack against the wood, but he doesn’t feel anything at all. Anxiety hisses out pain through his teeth, rubbing his head, but judging from their confusion the other sides don’t feel anything either. Thomas considers questioning Anxiety, but decides it’s a problem for another day.

“Okay. I don’t know if I have any sweatpants small enough to fit you . . ."

“It’s fine. I’ll just sleep in my jeans.” Anxiety toes off his sneakers and kicks them to the corner of the room. His socks are purple with black toe and heel patches.

“That’s gotta be uncomfortable, though,” Patton says. “Do you want shorts instead?” Thomas rummages around more and finds an old pair of exercise shorts that have been hiding crammed in the back of his drawer. He hasn’t worn them in years; they’re the only thing here that has a chance of fitting Anxiety.

Anxiety snatches the shorts from Thomas’s hands and inspects them suspiciously before disappearing into the bathroom. He shuffles back out holding his torn jeans. The shorts are old, with frayed hems, and they come down past Anxiety’s knees. Patton lets out a soft squealing noise, covering his mouth, eyes lighting up, and Thomas feels a well of cutecutecuteOHMYGOODNESSIT’SSOFUCKINGCUTE surge up inside him.

“What?” Anxiety snaps defensively.

“Do you think those will work, kiddo?” Patton asks. Anxiety’s pale face colors slightly pink and he shrinks back into his hoodie.

“They’re fine.” His voice is quiet, but it’s the least hostile it’s ever been. “It’s fine. Who’s sleeping where.”

“You’re sleeping on the bed.” All four sides whip their heads around to stare at Thomas in shock. “He just got dragged through the forest and tied up. He’s not sleeping on the air mattress.”

“Fine by me,” Roman shrugs. “I’ll sleep on the air mattress with Patton and Logan if you wanna stay in your bed, Thomas, but I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to spend time in the same bed as that foul rapscallion.”

“And I wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to sleep next to you, Princey, you reek of overpriced hair gel and failed ambition.” Roman’s entire body bristles, but Thomas cuts in before they can hurl anymore insults.

“I’ll sleep on the bed with Anxiety. You three take the air mattress. We’ll sort out our shit in the morning, okay?” They all nod at him, and Thomas heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he comes out again, Anxiety is curled at the foot of the bed like a cat, a decorative pillow tucked under his head. “Anxiety, what are you doing?”

“Sleeping on the bed. Isn’t that what you told me to do?”

“I didn’t mean for you to sleep on the edge of the bed like a dog.” Thomas pulls the covers back and ushers Anxiety into the bed. “Get under the covers, you’ll freeze out here. The air conditioner is cranked all the way up.”

Anxiety eyes him warily. “I’m not fucking snuggling with you or anything.” Roman mutters something from the air mattress; Anxiety immediately hisses at him and flips him off.

“I’m not asking you to, Anxiety. I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Right,” Anxiety drawls, “because I’ll be comfortable all night surrounded by people who hate me. I’m sure whether or not I sleep under the covers is the most important thing here.”

“If you’re not comfortable here, why don’t you just leave?” Anxiety stiffens, and Roman looks smug until Thomas steps in.

“No, we’re not doing that.” He looks at Anxiety. “If you don’t want to get under the covers, that’s fine, but at least let me give you a blanket?” Anxiety fidgets with his hands, but nods, and Thomas digs out a soft blanket from the tub underneath his bed and passes it over. Anxiety accepts it, curling up on the foot of the bed. He puts his back to Thomas and stares at the other three sides on the air mattress.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Roman asks.

“Making sure you can’t attack me in my sleep.”

“And you trust Thomas?”

“Thomas didn’t hold a sword to my throat.”

Thomas feels another tension headache growing and slides into bed, praying that sleep comes easily.

*~*~*~*~*

Despite the turmoil in his head and his heart, Thomas manages to fall asleep. He wakes up in the morning to hear the soft, even breathing of his sides from the floor. Thomas stretches out carefully, trying not to kick Anxiety, but his feet hit open air.

He sits bolt upright. The pillow and blanket are mussed on the foot of his bed, but Anxiety isn’t there. Thomas knows that Anxiety is still in the room, and when he crawls to the end of the bed, he sees the other sides asleep on the air mattress. Patton is on his stomach, gently snoring; Roman has one arm and one leg splayed out off the side as he lays on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, mouth hanging open; Logan is sandwiched between them on his back, arms folded over his stomach.

Thomas pokes around the room. He knows that Anxiety is in here somewhere, because he can’t feel the painful pull of the distance limit in his chest, but he can’t seem to find him. Eventually, he settles back into his bed for another few hours of uneasy sleep.

When he wakes up again, it’s to Roman and Patton awake and pulling on their clothes. Logan sits up, sleepily rubbing his eyes as he fumbles for his glasses. “Where’s doom and gloom?” Roman asks, uneasily eying the bed. Thomas feels a burst of indignationangerresentmentsadness in his chest.

“I don’t know where he is, but it’s somewhere in this room. Can you three go wait in the hallway?”

“What? Why?”

“You three make Anxiety nervous.”

“He’s Anxiety,” Roman says. “He’s nothing but nervous!” Thomas exhales in irritation and crosses his arms.

“I don’t know anything about him except what you guys tell me.”

“You don’t trust us?” Roman presses a hand over his heart, wounded.

“I do trust you. But I also know that all of you have your biases. I wanna get to know Anxiety on his own before I let your ideas of him cloud my judgement.” Patton smiles encouragingly at him, and Logan gives him a calm, reassuring nod. Roman huffs, but he unfolds his arms.

“I suppose that makes sense. However, I must warn you to be careful, Thomas. If he attacks you -” Thomas burns with negativity at the insinuation. “- you need only summon us!” He, Patton, and Logan shuffle out into the hallway, and Logan pulls the door closed behind him.

Thomas gives himself a minute, taking slow, measured breaths to try and quell the panic and anxiety and sadness and anger roiling inside him like a pot boiling over, and then he exhales. “Okay. I know you’re still in here, Anxiety. Can you please come out now?”

There’s no verbal response, but he can hear Anxiety shuffling around and he can feel his nerves spiking. Thomas sighs, reaching out to make a summoning gesture. “Anxiety, come here. Now.”

More shuffling noises, and then a head of brown-and-purple hair pokes out from beneath the bed. Anxiety crawls out and scrambles up onto the bed, looking anywhere but at Thomas. “Were - did you sleep under there?”

Anxiety winces. “It’s safe under there. Princey can’t find me.”

“Is - is that where you’ve been the whole time?”

“Not the whole time, but when you were in this room, yes. When we first manifested, I woke up before everyone else did, and I panicked, so I hid under the bed before anyone who see me and attack me.” Anxiety rubs his right fist into his left palm.

“Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“No one wanted me to be here, so I did my best to camouflage myself. It’s not hard to hide from people who aren’t looking for you.” Anxiety’s voice is relatively quiet, but it feels like he’s screaming. “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

Thomas is very confused by this complete one-eighty. He’d been gearing up to apologize to Anxiety himself, and now he gets an apology? “For what?”

“I hid from you instead of letting you know I was here, I was stupid enough to let you see me when I had already decided I wasn’t gonna let you see me, I was trying to stop you from crashing the car but you almost crashed it because you saw me, which I understand but it fucking hurts me that you see me as a monster -”

Thomas opens his mouth to interrupt, but Anxiety is clearly just getting started. His shoulders hitch as he curls in on himself, beginning to rock back and forth just slightly in panic. Thomas’s chest burns with his pain.

“ - and I bit Princey, which I’m not sorry for because yeah, he fucking deserved that, asshole, but it hurt you and that’s the antithesis of my entire purpose in your mind, you didn’t deserve that, and I hissed at you -”

“Hey, hey hey hey,” Thomas says. He reaches out and grabs Anxiety’s hands, pulling them away from where they’re clenched white-knuckled in the hem of his hoodie. He grips Anxiety’s hands between his own, and Anxiety jerks his head up. His eyes are full of anxious tears, and his eyeshadow is rapidly streaking down his face. “I’m not mad at you, Anxiety.”

“You’re lying -”

“I’m not. You did what you thought was right, didn’t you? You did what you thought would keep me safe?”

“I tried,” Anxiety rasps, “but -”

“You tried,” Thomas says firmly, squeezing Anxiety’s hands. “It’s okay. I know you were trying. I know you were. It’s all over now, and it’s just us. The others are outside. Why don’t you tell me who you are?”

Anxiety gives him an “are-you-shitting-me” look. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yeah. Roman told me who you are - well, who he thinks you are - but everyone else got to introduce themselves. I want you to tell me who you are.”

Anxiety rolls his eyes. “I’m your anxiety,” he says bitterly. “And your fear, and your worry, and your doubt and your self-loathing and your paranoia and - and all the nasty stuff that makes you feel sick to your stomach and keeps you wide awake at night. I’m Anxiety.”

Thomas hums. “That’s what you are. It’s what you do, although I don’t think it’s all you do. But it’s not who you are. Everyone else has a name. Do you have one?”

“Of course I do.”

“What is it? I don’t want to call you Anxiety forever?”

Anxiety’s eyes soften, and he opens his mouth, but then there’s a thump from outside and Roman swears as he trips over something. Immediately, Anxiety’s gaze hardens again. “Fat chance. You don’t know anything about me. How do I know you and His Royal Idiocy out there won’t use it against me? You can just call me Anxiety.”

“If that’s what you want -”

“It’s not what I want! None of this -” Anxiety yanks his hands away from Thomas’s and gestures to his twelve-year-old body. “ - is what I want! But for all the shit that gets thrown at me, I’m keeping you safe. If that means hiding my name, so fucking be it.”

Thomas exhales, opening his arms. “Do you want a hug?”

Anxiety jerks backwards, confused. “What the fuck?”

“You just got hunted down and attacked in the woods, and apparently it’s not the first time you’ve suffered this kind of abuse. The least you deserve is a god damn hug.”

Anxiety eyes him nervously, like a feral cat, but he slowly creeps forward, edging into Thomas’s arms. Thomas lets his arms fold carefully around his Anxiety, noting how skinny and small he is compared to the other sides. Anxiety carefully tucks his face into Thomas’s shoulder, and Thomas gently rubs his back. “It’s okay,” Thomas says.

“Nothing is okay,” Anxiety mutters.

Thomas tries to think back to what people have said to him when he felt like this. “I know it feels like nothing is okay,” he says. Anxiety stiffens, but doesn’t pull away. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel that way. You’re allowed to feel like - like everything is spinning out of control. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m . . . I’m not going to let them treat you like that anymore.”

“They treat me like that because of the way you think about me, you know. The way you think about your anxiety.”

“I can work on that with them. I want to work on that, with them, with you. If you’ll let me, I mean . . .”

“It sounds nice,” Anxiety says. “But - but how can I trust that?”

“Do you want someone else to verify that what I’m saying is true? I can call one of them in -”

“No!” Anxiety’s voice immediately snaps into a distorted, terrified shriek. It sounds like tires screeching on rubber, like a fork dragged down a grater, like the horrific crunch of metal of a car crash.

“Not Roman,” Thomas says immediately, feeling his hands start to shake. “How about Patton? Is Patton okay?”

“He’s . . . nice . . . when he sees me, which isn’t often . . .”

Thomas lifts his hand in a summoning gesture, and Patton pops up into view. “Oh! Hello there, Thomas! Hey kiddo!” He comes over to sit on the bed, and Anxiety hisses when he gets too close. “Me-ouch, Anxiety, don’t be like cat!” Thomas snorts, and he sees Anxiety turn his head to hide a smile in his shoulder.

“Will you be okay to sit here with Patton while I go into the hallway to talk to Roman and Logan?” Patton smiles at Anxiety and reaches for him; Anxiety flinches away from the sudden movement, baring his teeth. Thomas looks up and makes eye contact with Patton, mouthing Slowly over Anxiety’s head.

“I don’t want to be left alone with anyone if you’re not here,” Anxiety says. “What if he ties me up again? What if he tries to kill me?”

“I would never do that to you, kiddo!”

“Really? Cause you said Princey would never hurt me, either, but here we fuckin’ are, I guess.” Patton opens his mouth, like he wants to reprimand Anxiety’s language, but thinks better of it and closes his mouth again.

“I love Roman,” Patton says, “but what he did to you was wrong.” Anxiety turns to face Patton fully, looking completely baffled.

“It - wh - but you don’t think I deserve it?”

“Why would you deserve that?” Thomas demands. Patton lets out a horrified gasp, pressing his hands over his mouth.

“Oh, kiddo. Kiddo, no.”

“Did you think we were chasing you because we wanted to punish you?” Anxiety looks at him like he’s just asked if the sky is blue.

“Uh, duh. You guys don’t exactly have a great track record with being very nice to me, do you?”

“That might be true,” Thomas says, before Patton can protest the way he so clearly wants to, “but you seem to be assuming that we’re angry at you all the time. Roman, I could see, but why the rest of us?”

Anxiety blows his bangs out of his face, shifting out of Thomas’s lap. “I’m anxiety. I’m the bad guy. I have to be the villain in order to keep you safe, and I can’t even do that right. You almost crashed your fucking car. Then I ran away, which hurt you more, and then I bit Roman and that really hurt you, and I - I just - I’m the bad guy.” He sighs in exasperation, and his puffed-up angry persona deflates a little. He doesn’t even sound angry, anymore, just guilty and resigned to his fate, staring at the blanket instead of either of them and fidgeting with his fingers.

“Anxiety,” Thomas says, “who told you that you have to be the bad guy all the time?”

Anxiety laughs, but there’s no joy behind it. It’s bitter and hollow. “I’m your newest side, Thomas. Even here, I look like a fucking child. Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that you would listen to a scared little kid trying to tell you what to do?” Thomas can’t, and Anxiety nods.

“Exactly. So I do whatever I have to in order to keep you on edge and on guard. If I terrify you, at least I know you’re safe. I try to protect you, I try the best I can to do my job and keep you away from things that would hurt you, but - but I overdo it, and nothing productive gets done. I’m just a scared little kid, what do I know?” The bitterness drips from every syllable of the last sentence.

Patton looks at Thomas, shrugging helplessly, and Thomas looks at Anxiety, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he speaks. “Thank you for telling me all that,” Thomas says slowly. “I know this must have been building for a long time, and I appreciate you getting it all off your chest. But you didn’t answer my question.” Anxiety lifts his head, and Thomas meets his eyes, exhaling slowly.

“Who told you that you always have to be the bad guy?”

Anxiety scoffs. “Who do you fucking think?”

#starshinewrites #living in the real world (ain't it fun)#ain't it fun!au #platonic TLAMP #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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melias-cimitiere · 4 years

Text

MINORITY REPORT

People who are interested in being honest, true to themselves and to others, eager to learn truth about things (scientific, historical, etc) and acquire knowledge, please keep reading. Everyone else, carry on with your daily activities; this article will clearly not impact on you in any positive way.

There has been a growing concern during the last few years that people have a tendency to “save the tree and burn the forest”; this is a mentality of gross generalizations, over-simplistic attitudes towards right and wrong, and superficial ideological bubbles that do not take into account reality. When historical truth is no longer convenient, when people forget the right use of words and terms and come up with the trendy, politically correct speech while disregarding the established definitions, then watch out: Big Brother is about (the 1984 George Orwell concept).

Minorities’ rights

There is a large number of people who tend to be sympathetic towards any groups, just because they are labelled as a minority. Instead of examining what they stand for and who they truly are (given a historical perspective), they moralize on their behalf and fiercely try to protect them, with a simplistic and gullible attitude. Let’s try and ask some basic questions:

Are their rights more/less important than anyone else’s?

We should be talking about human rights, and not minorities’ rights. If these groups are human groups, then they have some rights; these rights are protected by United Nations and various Constitutions, and political assemblies worldwide, and any proven violation is condemned. Why should any human group have more (or less) rights than any other group?

Are the minorities always correct?

Of course not. Whoever believes this tends to be extremely naïve. For example, amidst the minorities hide some rather loathsome groups (or individuals), such as Nazis, KKK, international terrorists (like Isil/Isis/Daesh, Al-Qaeda etc). And what about the minority groups of suicide cults, slavery rings, drug-dealers, “black market” merchants (of weapons, substances, toxins, organs etc)? What about serial killers or pedophiles? As you can see, membership in a minority group doesn’t automatically make you correct in all things.

Issue of historical guilt

What is trendy or fashionable doesn’t make it necessarily better or right. Nowadays it is not trendy or fashionable to expose certain historical facts because certain groups feel discomfort. This is not new; in fact, it has been an issue with history and with science since the very beginning. When Galileo showed the Earth is round and spins around itself, it caused certain “waves”; people even demanded his death. We still have the Flat Earth Society despite scientific evidence of the contrary. With regards to history and warfare, you will not find any parties that are not guilty. In fact, nearly every nation in the world has committed atrocities, vandalism, slavery, aggressive occupation and its army/warriors raping innocent victims etc. In the history of Mankind there are very few true innocents.

If we do not acknowledge such occurrences as inherent in human nature and as potential threats for everyone, we are doomed to repeat them in the future. Fascism and Nazism is not only a German thing; Slavery isn’t just a “white thing”; Colonialism isn’t just a British thing. We need to address the issues, recognize and study what makes these happen, and confront them. We must all stand united against this, and not devolve into group mentality and us against the others. We need to challenge our own mindset and free ourselves from pre-conceived ideas. Minorities get overly sensitive when people criticize certain behaviors or the past. And yet, how can one hope to be free from prejudice, when one refuses to see the truth, opting to be part of the herd?

What is Racism?

“Prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular racial or ethnic group, typically one that is a minority or marginalized.”

“The belief that different races possess distinct characteristics, abilities, or qualities, especially so as to distinguish them as inferior or superior to one another.”

[Oxford Dictionary]

“policies, behaviours, rules, etc. that result in a continued unfair advantage to some people and unfair or harmful treatment of others based on race”.

Also:

“harmful or unfair things that people say, do, or think based on the belief that their own race makes them more intelligent, good, moral, etc. than people of other races”.

[Cambridge University]

So as you can see, racism doesn’t have to do with minorities specifically. Minority groups can also be racist to majority groups, or some nations/people claim to be superior or “God’s chosen” while this is blatantly racist and, by definition, a harmful and unfair behavior. On a final note, just because certain groups have been persecuted historically, this doesn’t justify them to persecute others while claiming to be victims of racism, as this would be hypocrisy.

What is Discrimination? How is it different to Prejudice?

1. “The unjust or prejudicial treatment of different categories of people, especially on the grounds of race, age, sex, or disability.”

2. “Recognition and understanding of the difference between one thing and another”.

Usually people tend to forget the second definition, and over time, discrimination becomes something negative. What about, “a discriminative mind is a mark of wisdom?” Should you not pick and choose according to preference? Are all things the same? Obviously not. Prejudice, on the other hand, is always negative. It is wrong in so many ways to be prejudiced against people of any group; this doesn’t just apply to minorities. However, that doesn’t mean that a person cannot choose what he/she prefers. Preference is an act of freedom.

Some groups seem to imply that if a person says that he/she is heterosexual, that it means that they are homophobic. I hate prejudice; I support equal rights. I also fully support the second definition of discrimination; I do this all the time. I choose what I like to eat, where to hang out and who to have sex with. I have specific gender preferences; my choices don’t make me phobic of the other minority groups (another wrong use of the word phobic, meaning fear of something. Not wanting to have sex with specific types of peoples doesn’t mean I fear them, it simply means that I don’t like it and I prefer something else). I also choose what to read, what to reject, what kinds of music or movies to watch and so on. I’m sure you do all that too. So remember to use the words correctly.

What is antisemitism?

Semitic groups have been known to spread to a vast region in the Eastern Mediterranean all the way down to the Persian Gulf. Examples are: the Canaanites, the Akkadians, the Babylonians, and the Chaldeans that settled the Mesopotamian South where the Euphrates empties into the Gulf (from the tribe Kaldu – a Semitic tribe from the Amorites), the Jebusites, the Jewish tribes, the Arameans, and many more. So to pick just one of them and say it is the only Semitic group is doing disservice to the rest and is also appropriating people’s ethnic background.

Also, just because several of these groups were historically persecuted (Jews, Palestinians, small minorities in Iraq and Syria, etc) doesn’t give them immunity from blame when they are the ones committing crimes of racism or persecution. It has become a common thing in certain places from the Levant that one cannot bring about anything in discussion relating history or politics, from fear of offending their sensibilities. This has to stop. People should be freely discussing their opinions, and with the right evidence, they should be able to accept new data. Believing that people from minorities have indemnity from scrutiny is a naïve and socially dangerous stance.

Stereotyping and Reverse Pendulum Mentality

Protect battered mothers / women (but not battered fathers / men?)

Protect raped females (but what about raped males?)

Protect a specific group of a certain ethnic background while turning a blind eye towards other groups of different backgrounds whose rights are violated.

A child goes first (but what about elderly, mentally ill etc which are categories often neglected?)

Homophobic is a bad thing (and not heterophobic?)

A group or groups of different gender definitions must be protected (but shouldn’t all people’s choices on this matter be protected, no matter what?)

It is common, when society realizes that the rights of a certain minority have been violated (ie in the case of persecution, slavery, racist hostility and even killings because of that like the pogroms against Jews and other races), that society goes overboard and through overprotecting, refuse even the slightest of blame, even in documented cases. And yet, there have been plenty of people belonging to minority groups who were guilty of various crimes, including slavery, discrimination or collaborating with the enemy (and all these have been documented also). Minorities can easily become oppressors and they have done so, from ancient to modern times, as any student of history can testify.

Politically correct

We need to see some definitions of this; in the past, I used to pay a lot of notice and try to accommodate to that standard. Not so much now, and I will explain why.

“The avoidance of forms of expression or action that are perceived to exclude, marginalize, or insult groups of people who are socially disadvantaged or discriminated against.” [Oxford dictionary]

“Conforming to a belief that language and practices which could offend political sensibilities (as in matters of sex or race) should be eliminated” [Merriam-Webster]

“Someone who is politically correct believes that language and actions that could be offensive to others, especially those relating to sex and race, should be avoided.” [Cambridge University]

So look again the above definitions and note the words ‘perceived’ in the first, ‘conforming to a belief’ in the second, and ‘believes’ in the third. All these are subjective, thus arbitrary. If one wishes to be well-behaved, then by all means, one should take into account the sensibilities of others over various issues. However, in matters of spirituality, philosophy, history or science, one should care more about the objective truth and less about how people feel about certain aspects of the truth.

Examples include some of the following:

How many people died in a genocide (numbers differ according to which side you ask);

Is a certain behavior sign/symptom of mental illness (again, the psychiatrists will often tell a different story compared to members of various groups);

Are all people equal? (This often gets mistranslated as an inflammatory comment, aiming to annoy others meaning that they don’t deserve equal opportunities and rights. I am talking about people being equal in skills, IQ, innate abilities etc. Anyone who believes they are equal, must believe in that the humans are a race of robots coming from the same factory and production line.)

Thought Police vs Right to Free Speech

Seeking to prevent possible injustices before they even occur… seems pro-active and good, doesn’t it? Has anyone watched the film, Minority Report? If no, watch it. What about, Fahrenheit 451? Another excellent film (a bit old but a masterpiece). Do you believe in freedom? Can you say what you think without fear? Ask yourself if you should double-guess yourself every time you need to say or write something. People around you are a varied lot; many will not agree with what you say or do. Should you be made to feel intimidated by that? I don’t think so. You have a right to believe what you want and also your freedom of speech is safeguarded by the constitution.

Cultural Appropriation

A touchy subject for a lot of people. “Closed religions”? Kabbalah, deities, voodoo, Hindu beliefs, Native Indian spirit animals etc… the list goes on and on. Are we serious here? I mean, who makes these things up? Wake up people! There is NO closed religion. If a spiritual person or a person with respect approaches a concept or a deity/spirit and that deity/spirit accepts them, then it’s not up to the people to judge badly and condemn this approach! I can (and do) use whatever I want; my judgement is all I need, and that makes me a free man. Please, do not bend to such criticism; learn to think for yourselves. Learn, and experience things directly, if possible. You are born Free, like me. Do not bend to slave mentalities.

Constitutional Rights

Lastly, a bit of the obvious. Surely you are aware that any constitution of a country where there’s democracy and not a totalitarian regime safeguards certain freedoms. One of them is the right to think, speak, write and believe freely. Read up on your rights! Don’t take for granted what other people want you to believe; research yourself and then put them in their place. Protect those rights. People died to establish and to protect them in the past; now you got the ball, it’s your call.

#rights #minorities #stereotypes #appropriation #free speech #thought police #discrimination #prejudice #racism #constitutional freedom

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nxrdist · 4 years

Text

Fandom: AC Valhalla

Ship: Eivør + Hytham

Catagory: Friendship, Pre-Ship, Mild tension

Words: 1742

On the dock, Eivør lay spread-eagled on her back with her feet dangling over the wooden edge. Her eyes were closed against the harsh mid-day sun breathing evenly and lazily petting Silfrormr’s most recent addition -an orange tabby she’d called Tyr. Lowly, Eivør murmured to the cat about her latest adventure with the baker. He purred happily, as was becoming his habit, while she spoke and scratched under his chin. It felt good to be able to air her thoughts to someone without comment or judgment, especially with Dag’s increasingly hostile attitude and Randvi’s long looks.

The nearby sound of steps on planks caused Eivør to cease her murmurs though as someone approached. A moment later, there was a presence, a rustle of cloth, and the newcomer seated themself beside her. She assumed as much based on Tyr having turned his head to face where the sound had come from. Even for a cat, his air of annoyance was palpable as Eivør had unknowingly paused in her scratching of his chin. An amused expression crept across her face as she imagined the sour look Tyr was fixing the intruder with just then.

“Speaking to animals now are you?” Hytham’s tone was teasing.

She cracked one eye open still grinning. “Of course, my new friend Tyr is very wise. “

He nodded in agreement and reached out to scratch behind Tyr’s ears as he spoke. “The creatures of this Earth do often hold hidden wisdom. What has he been telling you?”

Eivør’s eyes slid closed again, and she hummed as if debating whether to share a great secret. She stroked Tyr again under his chin and he purred happily at being the center of attention.

“Only that he wishes me to stop lazing about and catch him some fish for dinner.”

Hytham chuckled at that. “Shall I join you?”

Looking up to gaze at him, Eivør saw an unreadable look in his eye. Hytham was ever difficult for her to read since his slip up back Norway -when she had called him out for looking annoyed. In a way, it was nice though not to have to watch his thoughts or feelings play out across his face like some of her more emotive friends and acquaintances. Eivør didn’t feel burdened by expectations from him like she often did from others.

“If you can stand to be away from your books that long. I know they will miss their dearest friend.”

He snorted. “I am sure they will manage it.”

She smiled at Hytham before turning to speak to the cat. “What do you think Tyr? Shall we catch you some dinner?”

Tyr gave a long stretch and a yawn, rolling onto his back, and kneading the air.

“I suppose that’s all the approval we’ll get.” Eivør chuckled.

Hytham followed her over to a nearby basket where she fetched out two fishing ropes. Passing one to him, their fingers brushed briefly and Eivør noted the calloused texture of his fingertips. He took the rope with a nod of thanks then they both headed back toward the end of the dock.

Despite being tethered to Ravensthorpe it seemed the Hidden One still kept up his training since his injury had healed. At the time of Basim’s departure with Sigurd, she’d thought it unkind for his mentor to instruct Hytham to stay behind, but now Eivør saw he would not be defeated so easily. Hytham had not surrendered to his injury or being left to toil over many large tomes -though she very much suspected he enjoyed the latter- and she admired him for it. She could not imagine how it would be to be confined to a single place for a lengthy period -and it had been over a year now since their arrival in Mercia.

Thinking of such things brought her back to thoughts of her most recent journey. He had come to them claiming to be a baker but had truly been a former bandit on the run from his old gang. After aiding him in clearing the debt Wilf claimed Tarben owed, Eivør supposed she could see the longing many had to settle without the need to travel. His happiness had been so plain when she had told him there was no reason he should not stay in the settlement.

“You are deep in thought.” Hytham’s comment broke Eivør’s trance.

She turned slightly to look at him. While she’d been caught up in her mind he must have baited his hook and tossed it out because he was looking idly at it bobbing in the water before them.

“Does something trouble you?” He asked gently.

“No. I was carried away I suppose.”

Hytham nodded. “I am often the same. One thought or theory leads to the next and before I know it my mind has run away with me.” He paused, then inquired. “Your recent travels perhaps?”

Eivør arched an eyebrow at him. “You truly do have eyes and ears everywhere do you not?”

He chuckled. “Forgive me. I did not mean to intrude. I do what I can to keep tabs on the new arrivals here -to ensure there is no trouble for you and Sigurd of course. I saw you speak with the new arrivals after Telka’s recent robbery.”

His reply was innocent, but Eivør had heard how Hytham spoke of the Order he worked against. She suspected that his keen ear for news in the village was not only for the benefit of it's inhabitants; though, she supposed keeping this Order away was just that. And so she did not comment on it. Instead Eivør simply answered. “Tarben.”

“Tarben?” Hytham questioned.

“Tarben the barker.”

“Is he?” Hytham asked, sounding curious.

Eivør shrugged. “He is now.”

“Thanks to you I assume?”

“Partly, I suppose. It was his own ambition. One I only aided in ensuring he could pursue.”

“This is good, no? A barker is a boon to the settlement.” Hytham reasoned.

“You are correct.”

“Though forgive me for saying but you seem troubled.”

Eivør paused unsure how to respond. After all, Hytham was correct in his observations and she was indeed troubled. The look of admiration Tarben had given her at the conclusion of their quest had held more. In his eyes was a longing when he had embraced her in thanks of her aid. When Hytham had approached it was that which she'd been speaking to Tyr of; an issue she was not yet ready to confront considering her conflicted feelings, so Eivør elected to change the subject.

“You know this is the longest we have spoken in some time.”

Hytham caught on to her redirection, but chose to let it lie. “It is...”

She smiled and commented mildly. "I think I like you better away from those books."

He turned to smile back, but a sudden tug on his line demanded his attention. Eivør watched Hytham struggle little with the line as he hooked and reeled the fish in. Only minutes later he plopped a large trout into the waiting basket behind them and Eivør could not help herself from laughing.

"What?" He asked, brow furrowed in his confusion.

She was still chuckling when she answered. "I did not take you for a fishermen!"

Hytham shook his head in amusement.

"Now I wonder what other talents you hide gestr."

At Eivør's tone a slight flush grew in Hytham's cheeks and he did not meet her eyes. After a pregnant pause in which she feared her teasing had gone too far, he finally replied.

"It is our way to have many skills."His tone betrayed nothing of his reaction. Eivør arched her brow. She was unable to restrain the teasing tone that persisted in her words.

"Is that so?"

He nodded affirmatively.

"Perhaps I shall learn more of them over time?" She ventured.

Behind her mind's eye, Eivør saw Tarben's look of longing and wondered if the same expression had ever been her own when regarding her friend. Seeing it had brought Hytham to the forefront of her thoughts which had seemed strange at the time, but perhaps it was not. Her crew and Randvi not withstanding, he was one of the few others she spent much of her free time with in the settlement. Still it was odd to think of him so suddenly when faced with the clear affactions of another.

"If you would like to?" he replied.

Hytham's clear eyes pierced through Eivør's thoughts and drew her back. It took a moment for his words to sink in and when they did she smiled. His expression was untroubled by her teasing or the implcations of it. If anything she thought there might have been a flicker of intrigue there within his eyes. Feeling relieved, Eivør gave a short laugh which shattered the possible moment just as much as her following words.

"If they are anything like you leap of faith then perhaps another time! We have some fish to cook just now I should think."

The intrigue, if it had not been her imagination, went out just then as Hytham nodded his agreement.

"Yes of course. I am sure your clever friend is quite hungry by now."

As they headed off from the docks with Tyr in tow, Eivør felt a twist of regret in her chest wondering what would have happened had she responded differently. For his part, Hytham felt a tad confused by the vikingr's behavior toward him as of late. One moment she teased hinting at something more than their friendship only to make a perfectly friendly joke the next. He had learned quickly it was the nature of the Norse to be a fliratious and friendly people.

So, he had not taken Eivør's teasing to heart at first. However, as he grew to know her it began to feel different. Observing her interactions with others, Hytham grew to wonder if it was the result of her people's customs or not. Uncertainty had stayed his tongue to responding in kind until he had seen her with the baker not a few days before. This man was certainly interested in her, but from his vantage point he had been unable to see Eivør's reaction. Hytham could blame nothing else for his reaction to her teasing. A part of him had wanted to see whether or not she would deflect him if he reciproated her implications. And now he was more confused than before.

#ac valhalla #hytham #eivor #female eivor #ac valhalla fic #assassin’s creed fic

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aquata-the-champ · 3 years

Text

Final Warning | The Board

Aquata and Greg’s feud comes with a few consequences...

Date: Sometime in mid July

TW: none

@notmuchofatail @simba-bonfamille-lyons @alzcomicbarn @thesorceress-hera @rezares @trip-downtheriverstyx

AQUATA

As the Board began to settle in their seats, Aquata glanced at the agenda that had been sent out. It mostly looked like the usual business, except for the first item. “What’s this about ‘Board Behavior Guidelines Reminders?’” she asked, looking around. Aquata had a sinking feeling she might actually know what it was about, but she wasn’t admitting that just yet. “Who put that on the agenda?”

GREG

Gregory - slumped in his seat and looking miserable as ever - hadn't even glanced over the agenda until Aquata spoke, his gaze peeking down at it before a small huff of a laugh slipped from his lips. Of course. For a moment, he found himself looking at Simba because... well - if he had one guess on who would have put that there, it was definitely him before he shot a look towards Aquata. "...Give you one guess." He mumbled easily enough.

SIMBA

Simba's eyes had cut to Greg at the laugh. He was more than done with Greg's sour attitude. Even if he didn't want to run again--which would be fine--he was on the board until December, and he needed to act like it.

Maybe he shouldn't've put it first on the list, but it was the most hot button issue and he had a feeling it wasn't going to wait until the end.

"Considering I'm leading this meeting, it was me," Simba volunteered the information easily. "I--we have decided that reviewing appropriate behaviour would be prudent."

He glanced at his fellow board members to back him up

HADES

This was a long time coming that nevertheless should not be necessary. Hades had rolled his eyes at the whole idea-- but couldn't deny that, well, they didn't have any better option. So: dramatic intervention, five-against-two it was. It could end badly (with Aquata storming out and Gregory in tears) but maybe, just maybe, something productive would come out of it.

Hades was skeptical. But he wouldn't undermine Simba.

"Especially in light of your recent actions on Twitter--but that is just the latest example of a long list of behavioral issues on both your parts," he said with a nod. His eyes settled on Gregory for a second longer-- after all, he knew the boy better-- and his eyebrow twitched up in judgment.

Frankly, Al was feeling kinda vindicated about this. As much crap as people gave him on Twitter, at least he knew how to use it responsibly -- aka he didn't get into public fights with his co-workers.

But he was gonna be nice about it, since it really did benefit him if the hippy dippy side of the Board (read, most of it at this point) had a schism, so...

"I for one think this is a very good idea," said Al. "We can all use a refresher! Keeping our socials clean is a good idea. Who knows what smear articles people might dig up!"

Yes, that was shade at Reza.

REZA

Reza's brow quirked up and he shot Al a sidelong glare. He almost wanted to defens Aquata and Greg's Twitter use out of spite. Excuuuuuse the fuck out of him for actively trying to topple a hostile regime even mundus hated, and selling a potion to help with nightmares to a distraught mother. Hmmph. Not Reza's fault that legally it was 'magic on a child.'

He didn't say anything. Didn't feel the need to yet.

HERA

Hera, on the other hand, had heard about all of this from Mei. She wasn’t on Twitter, nor did she have any desire to be, but it was more than that— it wasn’t as if Aquata and Greg were enemies online and best friends whenever they were in a room together. If it hadve been just an internet feud, Hera might have let it go. But it was affecting her directly, which meant…

“It’s for all our benefits,” Hera stressed (she wasn’t about to lecture Greg and Aquata on playing nice and let someone else get away with it). “But that isn’t to say you two shouldn’t take extra notice of it.”

AQUATA

Aquata crossed her arms. She knew she had fucked up. And she knew that she needed to be a little more careful about how she looked to the public. That didn’t mean she liked this “intervention” one bit.

“I still maintain that Gregory keeps intentionally provoking me,” Aquata said haughtily. “Anyway, message received. I’ll be more professional. Considering I actually give a d— crap about this. Unlike some people.” Aquata glanced at Greg and then back at her own agenda.

SIMBA

Thank Allah they were all on the same side of this. It would have been a pain if he was heading the charge with no one to back him up, but four other people? There was no arguing with that. And like Hera, and unlike some of the others, Simba wanted to be blunt in calling Aquata and Greg out specifically. It did no one any good to speak in vague terms.

“Aquata,” Simba said sharply at her accusation. Or complaint. Whatever it was, it had no place in this meeting.

“Being more professional is not blaming someone else for your behaviour. You and Greg are getting the same treatment. We are aware that both—“ his eyes flicked to Greg and back, “—of you are equally involved in this feud. But your denial of your own responsibility in it makes me question how much you believe that this is really harming the board and something needs to be done about it. And that is my biggest concern at the moment.”

GREG

Gregory didn't meet Hades' gaze - even if he felt it on him for a brief moment of time. If there was anyone here who's opinion he genuinely cared about, it was his. So he didn't like that he'd 'disappointed' him or whatever but... — for the record, he'd been completely fine until Aquata got here.

And see, Greg could have opened his mouth to argue that right there Aquata was instigating him with both of those comments despite the fact she was trying to say he was the one starting it all! What was that then, Aquata?? But again - Gregory did not, either by his own self control or by Simba's quick snap of retaliation. Now, he also didn't deny that he was highly aware it made the board look bad. But... In Greg's opinion so did a lot of things. Probably worse than a bunch of little Twitter fights. Anything that came out of his mouth at the moment surely wouldn't go over well though - so aside a quick icy glance over to Aquata , Gregory simply remained silent. Barely.

HADES

This was going about how Hades predicted it might go:

Aquata, kicking up a fight. Gregory, saying practically nothing. Shrinking in his seat. Hades's pinched his lips together, not sure which one was more disappointing. Not that it mattered-- it was hardly a game.

That was sort of the whole damn reason they were here.

"Are either of you aware that you can be removed for misconduct?" Hades added swiftly. Might as well make them realize just how fucking serious this could be.

AQUATA

"Removed?" Aquata blurted out, before she could stop herself. That seemed extreme. Sure, misconduct wasn't completely inaccurate, but wasn't that sort of thing usually reserved for, like, criminals and raging anti-Magicks? "I mean-- sorry, I know that there are certain rules and procedures, but... I mean, when is the last time someone was removed from Board? Like, I know this is serious, but..."

GREG

This wasn't actually a surprise to Gregory. He'd known very well about the rules and stipulations of the Board. That at any time, people could be 'petitioned' off the Board for.. well, pretty much any reason if there was majority rule about it. Why wouldn't he believe that Aquata's and his own actions wouldn't warrant something like this.

The only difference was that... getting kicked off the board wouldn't even be that much of an issue for Gregory. But clearly Aquata was more than offended by that notion.

"...if we're disrupting the rest of the Board or Board business in any way, or if we're not getting along with each other...you can petition to have people removed." Gregory mumbled quietly towards Aquata without even glancing her way, instead moving to pick up his pen to spin it around in his fingers. "It may not have happened...in forever - but doesn't mean it can't.. dunno why s'a surprise"

HERA

Hera resisted the urge to rub her temples throughout this whole little back and forth. Evidently, Aquata didn't understand how serious this was, and she was beginning to get the feeling that Gregory didn't much care either way, from how quiet he was being. There was a happy medium to be found between their respective reactions, and it would've made things a lot easier if they could've found it, she thought.

"Obviously, there are proper procedures in place; we can't just tell you both to pack up your desks and be out by the end of the day. But it is a possibility, and it's something the two of you," She shot a look at both of them, because whilst she might've liked Aquata a little more, they were both equally at fault, "Should be equally concerned about going forward. I don't think it's something any of us want to do," Now she glanced around at the others, before shrugging her shoulders. "But we can't keep turning a blind eye."

AQUATA

The sharp look from Hera was really all Aquata needed to see. Yes, she had known Simba the longest, and probably agreed with Reza the most on policy, but Aquata trusted Hera's judgment. Being a love witch made her seem wiser, and after that first brunch conversation, Aquata had wanted to impress her. So for once, Aquata bit back her indignation.

So she reined herself in from glaring at Greg (she hadn't asked for an explanation from him) and instead directed a serious nod of understanding at Hera. "Alright, then," she said primly. "I'll keep that in mind for the future. And I apologize for any inconvenience this might have caused."

Aquata glanced down at the agenda again. "If that's all settled, should we move onto the next order of business?"

#final warning #board things #simba #greg #hera #al #reza #hades

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

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On Azula Fans vs...The Rest Of The Fandom???

So I was talking with several people (@wingsfreedom, @wish-i-was-fiction, and @iabsentmindeddreamer--though I didn’t actually reply to them, just read their post) on this post (https://wish-i-was-fiction.tumblr.com/) and I wanted to write my own desperate post as I have been kind of thinking about for a while but have been hesitant to post because Idk how it would be received/I don’t want to start anything. But it looks like a thing has already started so I might as well.

I’ll start by saying that this isn’t a Bryke, Yang, or any part of the fandom hate post.

The thing I’ve been wanting to talk about is that I feel like Azula fans (and Zutara fans) are kind of being ostracized by the fandom and I feel like the creators kind of help that happen.

I can’t say when I started feeling this, I think that it might have been around the whole Azula vs Katara debate. That whole ordeal made me feel like Azula fans just aren’t taken seriously/aren’t respected even in in civil discussion. Like I ended up pulling out of that debate because I felt as though people were becoming dismissive and/or aggressive. I’m not saying it was everyone, not at all. But there were a handful. And yes, I am aware that it came from both sides. But that debate has since died down, which I’m glad for.

The point is, things like this seem to keep happening. I also think that there’s a certain user who keeps targeting specific portions of the fandom and says things in the fan tags that come off to me as very instigating and antagonizing. These posts tend to lead to a whole bunch of people coming along to completely drag Azula’s character through the mud and eventually her fans as they try to defend her character and justify liking it. I’ve since blocked that user, because (though they’ve always been rather civil with me) I just got tired of seeing hate towards a fandom I’m in and I started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to keep conversation civil. I say this because I want everyone to know that, though I’ve mentioned this person, I don’t particularly have bad blood with them or whatever. Those two things I mentioned were kind of the catalyst in me thinking that Azula fans are kind of isolated from the rest of the fandom.

And if this is beginning to sound familiar; I turn everyone to Zutara. The very first part of the fandom to be cast out of the fandom in a sense. Now I never shipped Zutara, in fact I hate it very much. And I used to think that the Zutara fans were ‘bitter’ and ‘hostile’. Now I kind of sympathize with them. I feel like that bitterness comes from not only not being able to see their ship on screen, but also because they’re kind of the black sheep of the fandom. To the point where even the creators seem to shit all over them and make fun of them and this is NOT okay. Because when creators start making fun of sections of the fandom, even in jest, it basically gives the fandom a green light to do the same. Like, ‘oh the creators do it, so its fine if we do’. It creates for a very bad and unfriendly atmosphere.

I feel as though the same thing is starting to happen with Azula fans. With Yang calling them a cult (even if this was a joke I feel like it is in very poor taste) and Hicks saying that they are scary. Etc.

There are two things that I think happen here (and it is the same stuff that happened with Zutarians).

1. Anti’s post hate in Azula’s tag (and the Zutara one) and fans get ont he defensive

2a. Some vocal people--seemingly on twitter--send hate to creators and the creators react creating a chain.

2b. Some fans started

I’ll discuss point 1 first because this happened first. I feel like one of the biggest problems is that a handful of people have begun to post Azula hate in her fan tags. Once upon a time people kept hate out of the fan tags with the exception of one or two posts every now and again. Then it started happening. And I have never seen an instance where massive amounts of hate in a fan tag was met with a positive response. The hate was posted and there was a reaction. Some fans were more kind in their responses and others got more aggressive. The amount of aggression increased as the volume of hate increased. And this I understand why Azula fans and Zutara fans get so irritated. We just want to enjoy our tag and see love for Azula and Zutara. But people keep knocking them. And so it puts fans on the defensive and starts a chain; hate is posted, fans argue back, anti’s now feel justified in their hate (and fans feel justified in their outrage), and more fighting happens.

All the while a second chain was being created. Unfortunately I do think that this one was started by the Azula and Zutara fandoms (mostly on twitter). I’ve noticed and have been bothered by this. I’ve been rather quite on this one because I like the people in this fandom and I love talking to them. But there are a few people who I feel like are being rather unfair or harsh. I feel like this fandom has become a bit of an echochamber for shitting on the comics and on other characters (mostly Iroh, Zuko, and Ursa) and I can see how that would be off putting. Like people started woobifying Azula and using other characters to prop her up I feel like this actually drove several people away. Granted I feel like this was actually a bit reactory as well--people kept using Azula and hating on her to prop Zuko up and so the opposite began to happen. But I digress; I’ve started to notice that people started taking an almost ‘Azula did nothing wrong/is the victim mentality’. And I strongly disagree with that. I won’t get into that now because that’s not the discussion. But it began to get off putting for me personally. But I like the character and fans of her enough to stay.

Between the above and that crazy Sokkla vs Tyzula ship war, we lost a lot of really fun people who used to shitpost, make fanart, and write fics. And so the bulk of our tag has disintegrated into discourse and arguing instead of having fun like back in the day.

And then the hate began to stray from discourse to, actually sending hate to the creators; Yang in particular. Again I think that this was more of a twitter thing (hence why I don’t use twitter, I think that it’s a nightmare of a site tbh and a breeding ground for bad behavior). A good vocal few kept complaining about how the comics and show were/was being written and after receiving so many harsh comments the creators began to react. I’m gonna just say it; I don’t think that Bryke (in the above link) was in the wrong here. I feel like they were pretty tactful and respectful in their wording. And as a fic writer I 100% agree with them that it is their story and so they should write it as they see fit, even if I don’t like xyz plotline. And as someone who has had someone try to strong arm me into writing my fic their way, I understand their frustration. My issue lies with Yang mostly. His ‘the Azula fandom is kind of a cult’ left a really bad taste in my mouth. Joke or not, this kind of grants people permission to judge the entire fandom. And we already saw it a bit in the very clip. This girl asked an innocent question, that response was her answer, and the crowd actually laughed. I feel like that was probably very uncomfortable for her. This was followed up by Hicks saying “I got a scary email from an Azula fan...please be nice to me guys”. Again, I’m not gonna knock Hicks too much because I feel like she’s still new (at least to Avatar) and that hate-mail can be quite rattling.

The point I’m trying to make is that a second chain has been created. Once Yang made his cult remark that cued a lot of outrage in the Azula fandom and it was a green light for them to openly hate on him and his work. Which is something that was already happening. In this regard I am kind of on Yang’s side. I’ve noticed that the fandom began to religiously knock Yang for everything he did with the comics in the same way that Zutarians started knocking Bryke for everything Kataang. Again I found myself off put by all the hate because I actually kind of enjoyed the comics. Discussion of the comics always seemed to lead to more debating over whether they were good or not. I do feel like Yang didn’t like Azula’s character from the start, but people sending hate and him seeing this probably didn’t help.

Eventually he reacted with his cult remark and so the fans felt justified in being more spiteful to the man. They started posting more hate. And so Yang probably feels more justified in thinking that her fan base is scary. And so the people who haven’t been posting hate and sending mean tweets his way are viewed as scary and mean too.

Where I disagree with Yang is that he made that remark at all. While I understand being frustrated, I really hated that generalization. As mentioned above, even the fans who liked the comics are now associated with unkindness and hate. I really enjoyed the comics, though that enjoyment is kind of shadowed by a feeling of being unwelcomed. And with his generalization I think that it kind of puts a bit of the stigma around the fandom in the exact way that Zutarians have a stigma of being hostile.

And when such a stigma is created it starts to become true because the fans feel like, ‘well they already see us this way, might as well be this way’. It starts to become true because others go into the tags to knock fans for being aggressive to the creators and so more people get defensive and the cycle just continues.

Now with Azula’s fandom, this is only just starting, but I can see it getting to Zutara levels pretty quickly. And that’s a shame because this fandom is something I have enjoyed for a while and I like being able to react with other parts of the fandom. But personally I haven’t been venturing outside of the Azula tag much because I feel like I’m only going to see hate and arguing if I do.

Idk, I hope that this didn’t come off as antagonizing to anyone because I’m not trying to blame any one group of people. Tbh I think that everyone has kind of played their part in this hot mess. I just really wanted to get this off of my chest. Mostly because I want people to tell me that I’m wrong lol and that the Azula fandom isn’t becoming a black sheep fandom and that I’m seeing something that isn’t actually there lmao.

I hope that I was able to explain things clearly, fairly, and kindly. Feel free to discuss in the comments and stuff.

#Avatar #Azula #Zutara #Fandom #Bryke #Gene Luen Yang #Discourse

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2istoliver · 3 years

Text

The Era of Misinformation Is Here To Stay

[Article extrated from THE INTERPRETER - THE NEW YORK TIMES]

By Max Fisher & Amanda Taub

This week alone, there’s a decent chance you’ve had at least one of these rumors, all false, relayed to you as fact: that President Biden plans to force Americans to eat less meat, that Virginia is eliminating advanced math in schools as part of a scheme to advance racial equality, and that border officials have been mass-purchasing copies of Vice President Kamala Harris’s book to hand out to refugee children.

All were amplified by partisan actors. But you’re just as likely, if not more so, to have heard it relayed from someone you know. And you may have noticed that these cycles of falsehood-fueled outrage keep recurring.

We are in an era of endemic misinformation — and outright disinformation. Plenty of bad actors are helping the trend along. But the real drivers, some experts believe, are social and psychological forces that make people prone to sharing and believing misinformation in the first place — and those forces are only on the rise.

“Why are misperceptions about contentious issues in politics and science seemingly so persistent and difficult to correct?” Brendan Nyhan, a Dartmouth College political scientist, poses in a new paper in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

It’s not for want of good information, which is ubiquitous. Exposure to good information does not reliably instill accurate beliefs anyway. Rather, Dr. Nyhan writes, a growing body of evidence suggests that the ultimate culprits are “cognitive and memory limitations, directional motivations to defend or support some group identity or existing belief, and messages from other people and political elites.”

Put more simply, people become more prone to misinformation when three things happen. First, and perhaps most important, when conditions in society make people feel a greater need for what social scientists call ingrouping: a belief that their social identity is a source of strength and superiority, and that other groups can be blamed for their problems.

As much as we like to think of ourselves as rational beings who put truth-seeking above all else, we are social animals wired for survival. In times of perceived conflict or social change, we seek security in groups. And that makes us eager to consume information, true or not, that lets us see the world as a conflict putting our righteous ingroup against a nefarious outgroup.

This need can emerge especially out of a sense of social destabilization. As a result, misinformation is often prevalent among communities that feel destabilized by unwanted change or, in the case of some minorities, powerless in the face of dominant forces.

If you are, say, a conservative American who feels a sense of lost control amid the pandemic and Mr. Trump’s election loss, then misinformation reframing it all as a grand conflict between patriotic true Americans and scheming social justice warriors can feel enormously reassuring.

It’s why perhaps the greatest culprit of our era of misinformation may be, more than any one particular misinformer, the era-defining rise in social polarization.

“At the mass level, greater partisan divisions in social identity are generating intense hostility toward opposition partisans,” which has “seemingly increased the political system’s vulnerability to partisan misinformation,” Dr. Nyhan wrote in an earlier paper.

Growing hostility between the two halves of America feeds social distrust, which makes people more prone to rumor and falsehood. It also makes people cling much more tightly to their partisan identities. And once our brains switch into “identity-based conflict” mode, we become desperately hungry for information that will affirm that sense of us versus them, and much less concerned about things like truth or accuracy.

(In an email, Dr. Nyhan stressed that it can be methodologically difficult to nail down the precise relationship between the overall level of polarization in society and the overall level of misinformation, but that there is abundant evidence that an individual with more polarized views becomes more prone to believing falsehoods.)

The second driver of our misinformation era is also upgraded by polarization: high-profile political figures who encourage their followers to go ahead and indulge their desire for identity-affirming misinformation. After all, an atmosphere of all-out political conflict often benefits those leaders, at least in the short term, by rallying people behind them.

And then there is the third factor: a shift to social media, which is a powerful outlet for composers of disinformation, a pervasive vector for misinformation itself, and a multiplier of the other risk factors.

“Media has changed, the environment has changed, and that has a potentially big impact on our natural behavior,” William J. Brady, a Yale University social psychologist, said.

“When you post things, you’re highly aware of the feedback that you get, the social feedback in terms of likes and shares,” Dr. Brady said. So when misinformation appeals to social impulses more than the truth does, it gets more attention online, which means people feel rewarded and encouraged for spreading it.

“Depending on the platform, especially, humans are very sensitive to social reward,” he said. Research demonstrates that people who get positive feedback for posting inflammatory or false statements become much likelier to do so again in the future. “You are affected by that.”

In 2016, the media scholars Jieun Shin and Kjerstin Thorson analyzed a data set of 300 million tweets from the 2012 election. Twitter users, they found, “selectively share fact-checking messages that cheerlead their own candidate and denigrate the opposing party’s candidate.” And when users encountered a fact-check that revealed their candidate had gotten something wrong, their response wasn’t to get mad at the politician for lying to them. It was to attack the fact checkers.

“We have found that Twitter users tend to retweet to show approval, argue, gain attention and entertain,” researcher Jon-Patrick Allem wrote last year, summarizing a study he’d co-authored. “Truthfulness of a post or accuracy of a claim was not an identified motivation for retweeting.”

In another study, published last month in Nature, a team of psychologists tracked thousands of users interacting with false information. Republican test subjects who were shown a false headline about migrants trying to enter the United States (“Over 500 ‘Migrant Caravaners’ Arrested With Suicide Vests”) mostly identified it as false; only 16 percent called it accurate. But if the experimenters instead asked the subjects to decide whether to share the headline, 51 percent said they would.

“Most people do not want to spread misinformation,” the study’s authors wrote. “But the social media context focuses their attention on factors other than truth and accuracy.”

In a highly polarized society like today’s United States — or, for that matter, India or parts of Europe — those incentives pull heavily toward ingroup solidarity and outgroup derogation. They do not much favor consensus reality or abstract ideals of accuracy.

As people get more prone to misinformation, opportunists and charlatans are also getting better at exploiting this. That can mean tear-it-all-down populists who rise on promises to smash the establishment and control minorities. It can also mean government agencies or freelance hacker groups stirring up social divisions abroad for their benefit. But the roots of the crisis go deeper than them.

“The problem is that when we encounter opposing views in the age and context of social media, it’s not like reading them in a newspaper while sitting alone,” the sociologist Zeynep Tufekci wrote in a much-circulated MIT Technology Review article. “It’s like hearing them from the opposing team while sitting with our fellow fans in a football stadium. Online, we’re connected with our communities, and we seek approval from our like-minded peers. We bond with our team by yelling at the fans of the other one.”

In an ecosystem where that sense of identity conflict is all-consuming, she wrote, “belonging is stronger than facts.”

Continue

#misinformation #anthropology #psychology #sociology #digital world #politics #inspainthesame socialmedia identity

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crimziedrawings · 4 years

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A Last Chance, Part 2

Alastair started to introduce himself, even though the maid had already done so, but was interrupted by Thomas.

“What are you doing here?” he seethed.

“Thomas!” Sophie gasped.

“It’s alright, Miss,” Alastair reassured her. “He has every right to be upset,”

Thomas let out sort of choked up laugh. “Upset?”

Before he could continue, Gideon spoke up. “I have to say, I am surprised to see you. I am even more so to see that you two are somewhat of acquaintances. Which makes all this hostility quite a curious thing, as I have not heard of Thomas being - upset, you say? - with anyone. Not even with the boys,”

“It’s nothing,” Thomas said to his father.

Alastair looked at Thomas closely. His hazel eyes were bright and his hair fell down over his forehead, suited for a time spent at home. His face was neutral, and one would almost think he was rather relaxed if it weren’t for his tense shoulders and the strain of his grip on the chair. His sleeves were pushed up and Alastair could see the faint black lines of his tattoo, along with runes. Thomas caught Alastair’s gaze and pulled his sleeves down.

“It is not nothing,” Alastair announced. “Thomas and I were indeed acquaintances as we went to the Academy together. My arrival in town only restored our… friendship, as it was comforting to see a familiar face. Recently though, we have grown apart, as a part of my past came to light.”

“What do you mean?” Eugenia asked, her focus now on Alastair instead of her embroidering.

“Is this some cruel joke? To come to my family and remind them of a time where these sayings put us through hell?” Thomas cut in.

“No, of course not,” Alastair spoke in a rush. “I am here to apologize,”

Thomas’s grip eased a bit, but the tension was still evident.

“Apologize? For what?” Sophie asked.

Alastair took another deep breath, bracing himself for the confession he was dreading to make. So, this is how it’s going to be, Alastair thought. I can do this. I will do this.

Alastair began, “My time spent at the Academy was not entirely pleasant, nor were my manners. You have raised a good man, Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, as Thomas was only ever kind to me, even when I did not deserve it. His kindness did not falter when I arrived in town, and still I did not deserve it. You see, while I was at the Academy, I participated in the wrong sort of activities. I worshipped the wrong sort of people. I was only a kid, easily influential, and these people were my idols. What they did, I did. What they believed, I believed,” Alastair released a stuttering breath. “And what they said, I said. That includes rumors. Rumors that, I am ashamed to admit, involve your family.”

Alastair took his time observing each of the Lightwoods. They didn’t react. Rather, they bore a neutral face, except Sophie Lightwood, who merely lowered her gaze, as if she knew of what Alastair spoke. It caused him great shame remembering his words, all that he had said about Sophie Lightwood, about Thomas’s mother. Alastair directed his next words at her, speaking softly, “I mocked your previous status, and I maligned your upbringing, the fact that you were once a mundane. I blamed Thomas’s illness on it. I insinuated that you were-“ Alastair broke off, the surrealness of the situation hitting him with the force of tornado. He closed his eyes, taking a couple of seconds before opening them and continuing, “I insinuated that you were a whore.”

Gideon stood up at this, so fast that his chair knocked over. “That’s enough,” he cautioned. His face did not look neutral anymore. No, he looked furious. He had the right mind to be, hearing all these awful things about his wife, seeing that it was being said to her. But before he had the chance to give Alastair a piece of his mind, his wife’s soft voice broke in.

“Gideon, let him finish,”

Alastair stared at her in disbelief. Here he stood, speaking of such terrible insults in her presence, and yet this woman had the will to let him do so, to let him finish what he had to say. He couldn’t tell whether there was a motive behind this or if she was simply just a patient woman.

“Mama, you don’t need to hear this,” Thomas interjected. “It isn’t true.”

“I said let him finish,” Sophie ordered, her eyes slicing to Thomas before resting on Alastair. “Surely, there is more?”

Alastair was nearly speechless. “Yes…”

Sophie placed her art supplies on the coffee table in front of her. She sat back delicately and straightened, setting her chin higher. Even though Alastair was standing, he still had the feeling that this woman was looking down at him. “Then continue,”

“I spoke of your husband, as well,” Alastair coughed. He had started this confession by speaking to the whole family, but now he felt that he was only professing to Sophie, as if she had some power like the Mortal Sword, drawing his words out no matter how dreadful and brash they were. “I implied that he had an affair. W-with Charlotte Fairchild.”

At this, Gideon pushed off his desk, rattling the objects that rested on it.

“And I said that Matthew Fairchild was his bastard,” Fear pulsed through Alastair’s veins, yet he kept going. “I’ve said all these appalling things and spread them to others. It was not right, but at the time I did not know any better. It doesn’t excuse my behavior; I am not asking for your forgiveness. I am telling you this because I want you to know, I need you to know, how sorry I am. Please know that I am trying to make amends and become a better man, to fix myself.”

The Lightwoods were quiet, each of them looking as if they were in thought. Probably contemplating how to ruin me, Alastair thought. This silence was driving Alastair mad, but he said nothing. A few minutes went by before someone spoke up.

“Gideon, Thomas, Eugenia, please leave,” Sophie commanded. “I wish to speak to him alone.”

°°°

Alastair Carstairs is dedicated to becoming a better man. This means owning up to his actions in the past. He starts with the family that he hurt the most, the Lightwoods. But he leaves the family’s home filled with a mixture of emotions, after the reactions he received from them.

This is part two of a story about Alastair Carstairs facing the Lightwoods, because before I can accept Thomastairs, I need Alastair to own up to his actions.

Tags: @thatdemonicchild @fairchild-squad @daisyherxndale @lizlightwood-herondale @vampire-mojo-strikes-again

Let me know if you would like to be tagged as well!

#the last hours #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #chain of iron #chain of gold #sophie lightwood #sophie collins #gideon lightwood #eugenia lightwood #the infernal devices #the shadowhunter chronicles

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tsipasce · 4 years

Text

Same Difference, ch.03

A/N: so two cute idiots walk into a tea shop...

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 04

AO3 | Fanfic

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiiiiit. She thought as she shakily sipped the tea she had just made. It had been an hour or so since she escaped, and the gravity of the situation once again settled on Nanami’s shoulders. She realized just what it meant to have left her purse in his car. If it had just been her phone and cards, she could go and replace them, but what really concerned her was her I.D. If there was any sensitive information he was after, he was certainly going to find it on there. “He knows my address…” she realized aloud.

No amount of SleepyTime tea would be able to fix this. I’m doomed...

It was getting late in the day and without any of her cards or phones, she was stranded in her apartment, waiting for the worst. However, she did have some old pots and pans lying around. It’s not the strongest metal, but it’ll at least make a lot of noise if they’re broken and give me time to escape if shit hits the fan. She broke down the metal objects and reformed them into a considerable amount of deadbolt locks on her front door and windows. As she went to check how things looked outside, she saw it: It’s that same damn car.

Nanami immediately shut her blinds and had a mini freak-out. Why in the world did I think they wouldn’t follow me? Fmllll.

Freaking out wasn’t helping, so she decided to refocus and calm herself by planning and researching her would-be opponent. If he decided to make good on his last threat, she at least needed to know who she was up against. She pulled out her laptop and remembered she was able to check her phone notifications through it. There were no notifications and for the first time she was glad her inbox was so dry. Clearing her mind, she tried to remember details that would tell her who she was up against.

“Overhaul”. That’s what the driver seemed to call him. Is that his villian name? Nanami figured it was worth a shot, assuming she’d probably find some petty criminal’s rap sheet. Though if she was being honest with herself, he was much more intimidating than your average delinquent. She pulled up Boogle and searched the name. She unfortunately got her answer.

… You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

It was then that all of the hints she had missed before came crashing down as she saw the words “yakuza” and “Hassakai” plastered on her screen. She had to be the unluckiest woman alive, she was thoroughly convinced of that now.

After taking a personal moment to scream into one of the throw pillows on her sofa, Nanami decided to press onward in the hopes of finding out about his quirk. He hadn’t been able to use it yesterday, but she was sure he would try again if given the chance. This piece of information was much harder to find, but not impossible. A couple gruesome articles later and she found what she was looking for. The article read “ His quirk is suspected to involve the disassembly and reassembly of anything that he touches at a molecular structural level upon touching the target with his bare hands.”

She reread, and then reread it again. And again. This is impossible. “That’s my quirk.” Though she had to keep it a secret most of her life, she suddenly felt almost angry that someone else had it, that he had it. She hid her powers, always being careful to understate her quirk, then here comes this asshole using it without a care in the world. The more she thought about it, the more she began to question whether she was angrier at him for owning it, or at herself for rejecting it. Before she could make the existential breakthrough, the Dr. Nanami Watanabe part of her brain brought up the obvious question, rousing her from her thoughts:

“How in the world do two people that aren’t related have the exact same quirk? Has that ever even happened before? What does this even mean?” she had to ask herself aloud. I have to talk to him, she realized, grimacing at the thought.

It would be incredibly dangerous given who he is, but as it stood, he had all her information—probably more considering his connections—and she couldn’t talk to anyone else about it and risk getting them involved. Besides, for whatever reason, he wasn’t able to use it on me the last time. Maybe it was just a fluke, but I have to at least try and find out. Considering this, his behavior (well, some of it) began to make sense. If she were a yakuza boss and found out someone else was walking around with your very specific, and possibly very destructive quirk, she’d probably want to have a talk with them too.

Cautiously looking out the window, the car was still there. It was a long shot, but she hoped they had her phone in front of them so she could send a civil invitation to meet from a distance. She reopened the phone messenger on her laptop and began to type. Nanami had written a lot of serious messages in her life, but this one definitely took the cake.

After rewriting it a couple times she settled on a riveting, final draft:

Dear Overhaul,

I know who you are. Let’s chat.

*send*

Looking at the message, she commented dryly “I should’ve just dropped out of med school and become a writer. Great work, Nanami *facepalm*”. After a message like that, she was sure he’d think she was an idiot and she wouldn’t blame him one bit. He may not respond, but at least she can say she tried. If he agrees, then there’s a slight chance we could come to an understanding and he won’t merc me on sight. Maybe.

Just as doubt was about to rear its ugly head, three dots appeared.

Nanami’s eyes were glued to the screen in anticipation while her ears were still straining to hear if there was any commotion outside her door. The dots disappear.

“Tomorrow at 8AM.” The text read. She wasn’t sure if it was the man himself, but it didn’t matter. Death threats or not, she didn’t wake up that early on a Sunday for anyone but the Lord himself.

“No can do. Tomorrow, noon, at Matcha Mastery” She replied. If anything went down, she at least wanted to get one last fix from her favorite shop.

The three dots appeared and reappeared at least 4 times. Whoever was responding was being careful about what they wrote.

“Fine.”

Or not..

And just like that, she had a date with the devil for tea.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sleeping was near-impossible that night. Though she had set a time and place, there was also little stopping him from sending in a couple of his “colleagues” to make a preemptive strike. Thankfully, the night went by without incident, the mysterious car having only left at daybreak. After checking her locks one more time, Nanami set an alarm for 11:00 AM and passed out.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The alarm blared and she woke up with a start, the anxiety from the day before bubbling up to the surface. After going through her usual routine, she went to her closet and stared blankly. She had never been more confused as to what to wear, it was a meeting with a class B villain, after all. Do I wear a sensible pantsuit or a dramatic gown with a fur coat made of dalmatian puppies? Thinking it best to be as inconspicuous as possible, she went for a third option: her favorite sleeveless black turtleneck, some high-rise jeans with a black leather belt and black leather boots. Putting her hair into her signature ponytail, she checked her watch, “11:45, just enough time to walk there.”

Though she’d made this walk a hundred times, today it felt excruciatingly long. She’d say it was like marching to her own execution, but thought it best not to speak something with such a high probability into existence. Five minutes later and she had arrived.

There were only a few other people in the small shop, but she thought it best to sit upstairs in one of the private rooms. She put in her order and headed upstairs to wait and mentally prepare. Enough privacy where they won’t be able to hear our conversation, but public enough that I can call for help if things go south, she plotted internally. Just then, her order was called, and she headed down the stairs. As she took the last step she heard someone else come in and looked towards the door to see him there. He hadn’t noticed her yet and went to order. For a moment, she observed him from afar. He wasn’t wearing his signature mask or jacket, but donned a simple black mask, button-down shirt and slacks with a gray tie instead. She was surprised at how different he looked. Speaking of surprises, he was actually being very courteous to the staff, What a stark contrast to the guy that threw me in the back of a car yesterday… She commented inwardly. Nanami was so focused on her thoughts she didn’t realize that her stare was being returned. She quickly snapped out of it and looked away, feeling a tinge of embarrassment lightly stain her cheeks. He subtly raised an eyebrow, but his expression stayed otherwise the same.

Not wanting to lose her air of confidence so quickly, Nanami poised herself and walked confidently over, reaching past him to get her order, his eyes never leaving her. Without a word, she turned on her heel, returned to the private room upstairs and waited, her heart racing after having been that close. A few minutes later she heard someone walking up the stairs and braced herself for the encounter. Overhaul calmly walked into the small room, sat across from her, and stared. It seemed as if neither of them knew how to start the conversation which she found surprisingly comforting at first, but then she remembered why they were there in the first place.

They sat in that heavy, awkward silence for what felt like an eternity, neither one of them breaking eye contact. Nanami usually wouldn't be this hostile right off the bat, but after their encounter yesterday, she made an exception. His gaze was intense and still borderline homicidal as he studied her, but she knew she couldn't afford to show signs of weakness and look away. While focusing so intently on his eyes, she could swear she saw a tinge of curiosity. Hm. I can work with that. Truces have been made on less, right? She convinced herself, deciding it was time to put a knife to the growing tension. "Alright, let's chat." she began confidently. His eye twitched ever so slightly at this and she could tell he was still contemplating less pleasant, nonverbal forms of communication. "Why were you following me yesterday?" "No. That isn't how this is going to work. I'm questioning you." He replied sternly, almost cutting her off. "You can think that, but I'd like to remind you what happened the last time you tried to corner me with questions. How's your stomach feeling, by the way?" Nanami asked innocently, though her face was smug. At this she could see his face shift to a look of disbelief, then quickly regress to anger and a bit of embarrassment. She could tell he wasn't used to being talked to like this. She was skating on thin ice, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy watching him react. The silence continued and Nanami sipped her tea, raising her brows at him expectantly. Not being able to use his quirk to shift the balance, he came to terms with the fact that he'd have to answer her at some point. "On Friday you were snooping around Hassakai territory, accosted one of my subordinates. Then you proceeded to destroy construction site materials. It's not odd that I would have to investigate such a suspicious character." He stated matter-of-factly as he crossed his arms over his chest, sure of himself. Nanami looked around dramatically, gesturing, “Am I in the Twilight zone? That's not at all what happened. I didn't accost anyone or destroy anything, I saved him by--" she abruptly stopped, thinking it best not to confirm what he may or may not know about her quirk. Or is it “our” quirk? Gross. She then continued " I saved your subordinate and I get thanked by almost being kidnapped? Make it make sense." "If that's true, then explain how you did it. In detail." He replied, but it sounded too much like a dare. She knew what he wanted to hear but was afraid of the consequences if he got his answer. Overhaul decided to take the initiative and provoke a demonstration out of her, since the explanation was taking too long for his liking. After glancing around to ensure they were alone, he took a napkin, and wiped down her mug. Nanami was watching him intently now. He began removing his glove and she reflexively flinched at the movement, remembering the threats from yesterday. He noticed and moved slightly slower, before removing it completely. He then took her mug, examining it.

A germaphobe who has to touch things to activate his quirk, huh? No wonder he's so grumpy. Nanami thought.

Just as she was about to ask what he was doing, he raised the mug between them and disassembled it, the particles now in free fall. Before Nanami thought, she reacted, placing her hand beneath the soon-to-be mess, catching and reassembling the particles at they fell. She looked at the now intact mug and realized she had done exactly what he wanted. Crap. She hesitantly lifted her gaze to meet his and saw a hint of... wonder? Is he happy about this? She wondered, but the rest of his expression was that of suspicion. "Explain." He commanded in a low voice. She knew it was too late now. No amount of strategy would get her out of this explanation. "I.. I researched you—I mean your quirk— last night, and well… it's the same as mine. Exactly the same." She added the last part clearing her throat, now looking down, her mind going a mile a minute at the declaration. He paused a beat before responding. "It truly is a virus." He said with disgust. Say what now? Nanami had a couple of ideas as to how he'd react, but this was not one of them. "Pardon?" "Quirks. They are the virus of this generation." He continued. Still puzzled, but curious, Nanami prodded, "You mean, literally or in some philosophical, villain-y way?" "Both. Everyone has ascribed to the label of either hero or villain, intoxicated by their own delusions of grandeur. All because they've been given powers by a virus derived from rats. It's filthy." "No, no, no," Nanami mentally switched gears to become Dr. Watanabe, " while I agree hero and villain complexes can be dangerous in equal measure, and they might be a ‘moral virus', quirks are not biologically viruses. They're hereditary mutations," she stated confidently. "Well, you don't look like one of my relatives." He replied plainly, sizing her up. They both knew he had a point. " I.. I can't explain that. But it's widely known that quirks are hereditary." " Known or theorized?" " Science doesn't work that way. Even things we're almost 100% sure of are still sometimes considered theory. Doesn't make it any less true." "One, I know how science works. And two, it also doesn't make it 100% true. You can't ignore data just because it contradicts your beliefs." At this Nanami thought for a moment before deciding they needed to refocus and come to terms on a truce. "Well. What now? I can't have you tailing and threatening me with abduction." "And I can't have someone with my quirk walking around, ready to be weaponized by my enemies…How can you assure me you won't be a problem?" Is he throwing me a bone? "Look, I'm a semi-law-abiding citizen just trying to live a relatively quiet life, and I have no hero license. I haven’t the reason nor the means to cause trouble." "You already have. Yesterday I was...” He cleared his throat, “…unable to execute my quirk." Geez that sounded like it hurt to say… Nanami thought. He continued, "However, you were able to utilize yours against me. There is an imbalance and it must be rectified." "But I have no idea how that happened. It was a fluke!"

" You can't be sure of that." He stated, and she knew he was right. Just as she was afraid of coming the negotiations would come to an impasse, he continued, "But I can. Let me study you." Her eyes shot open wide at that suggestion, " And lock me away in whatever yakuza hideout cell you've probably already constructed for me? No, thank you." "So you're not the least bit curious as to why something you claim is hereditary behaves like a virus? Why you were unaffected by overhaul yesterday?" "You were going to disassemble me??" Nanami asked in disbelief, though her professional and personal curiosity were indeed piqued at the prospect of researching their shared quirk. He looked confused and answered as though she was the weird one," Of course. I was going to overhaul your arms and then return them to you once I knew the threat had been neutralized." " You were going to ‘return my arms’? How considerate of you." She said sarcastically. "But still, the answer is no." "So you're not curious?" He pushed, knowing the answer. "No. I mean yes! But I'm not going to become a lab rat." Just then, an epiphany struck her. It would be a long shot, but it was her best shot at a truce and to get her questions answered. She had to at least try.

"But I would be willing to become a lab

partner,

" she said, raising her eyebrows, hoping he would accept the proposition.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, we could work together to figure this out. We’re both looking for answers so our goal would be the same, I’m a whole ass doctor, and I can tell by how you remove your gloves you at least know basic lab practices. All you have to do is guarantee you won't harm me or anyone I associate with. I should be able to go about my life without worrying about what you might do to me... Do we have a deal?"

He paused thoughtfully, and she could tell he was genuinely considering the proposal. He looked her in the eye, searching for any signs of deception until he finally spoke, "Under one condition," She was both relieved he was going to accept and afraid of what he could possibly ask of her. " You must work in my lab under my supervision. I will also monitor you and your communications."

"Yes to your lab. No to monitoring." Nanami shot back without hesitation.

He looked vexed, and countered, "You must never speak of our arrangement, and we will have mutually agreed upon check-ins."

"... Deal."

" Good."

Nanami knew better than to offer her hand to a germaphobe and instead opted to start their partnership out on the right foot. She gracefully rose, casually brushed off her pants and walked around to his side of the table. Looking at him seriously now, she began " If we're going to be partners, let's do this properly," she then bowed as she would to any new colleague, " I look forward to working with you, Mr. Overhaul."

He was silent, and Nanami was getting nervous, not knowing how he would respond. He stared at her a beat. She couldn’t see it, but he was pleasantly stunned. Recognizing her consideration, he rose in a similar fashion and returned her gesture, "And I you, Dr. Watanabe."

#same difference #bnha fanfic #bnha #mha fanfic #mha overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #shie hassaikai #mha chisaki #overhaul fanfiction #fanfiction #oc #mha oc #overhaul x oc

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anubislover · 4 years

Text

Siblings Lost and Found

(Ikkaku's been the Heart Pirates' mechanic for a year, but is she just another one of Law's subordinates, or does she mean more? Special thanks (and blame) to @shambledsurgeon for suggesting this idea and @scribblrhob for suggesting the song "In My Life" by The Beatles for maximum feels. Any tears are their fault)

It was well past midnight when Ikkaku’s shift was finally over. Clione as he come to relieve her, and she couldn’t be more grateful. In the year since she’d become the Heart Pirates’ mechanic, she’d discovered that life on the high seas wasn’t always as exciting as it sounded.

In fact, with the ocean so calm and little more to be seen beyond schools of fish and the occasional shark, it was hard to stay awake and focused. She’d resorted to drinking three cups of coffee and playing with her hair, braiding and straightening until finally settling on a pair of simple pigtails, mostly for the sake of getting her thick locks off the back of her neck. The Polar Tang had been underwater for a while, so it was stuffy and humid—Bepo would start complaining soon, and Law would have to agree to surface.

Thinking about the poor Mink, Ikkaku decided to take a detour to the library. Aside from the operatory and the morgue, it was the room with the best air conditioning and Bepo could sometimes be found bunked up in there if his quarters became too hot. If he were awake, maybe she’d sit up with him for a bit; with all the caffeine in her system, she knew she wouldn’t be drifting off anytime soon.

The library was in fact occupied, but not by who she’d expected. Slumped over one of the tables was Law, medical books and papers scattered beneath him. He’d been suffering another bout of insomnia for the past week, but normally when he was like that, he spent his nights in the lab or his office.

Must be avoiding Shachi and Penguin’s hovering, she thought, shaking her head. When the captain got like this, those two always went out of their way to try to force him to take care of himself. As much as Law griped about it being insubordination, she was positive he secretly appreciated it; after all, they were two of his closest friends. Practically his brothers.

She wished her own brothers had been like that.

Ikkaku quietly crept into the room to lower the lights—Law must have been truly exhausted to have fallen asleep while working. She briefly wondered if she should wake him long enough to help him move to the couch, but she decided against it—he’d suffer some nasty neck cramps in the morning, but it was better than disturbing his much-needed rest.

When she tried to remove the pen from his hand, however, Law stirred. Ikkaku froze, half crouched above him, silently praying that he hadn’t awoken. She was close enough that, even in the dim light, she could see the way his face scrunched up. Was he dreaming? She could see his eyes darting about under his eyelids, as if searching for something, and his breath came out in shuddering little gasps.

Law was surrounded by choking death. White hospital walls were engulfed in flame and crumbling around him as he ran through the winding, labyrinthine halls.

Mother and father were dead. The soldiers were killing everyone they saw. Flevance was in ruins. It was hot and everything reeked of smoke, blood, and stinking death. Wide, lifeless eyes stared at him in cold judgement as he sprinted past crumpled corpses.

You told her to stay put, they whispered maliciously. This is your fault.

No. He’d told her to hide in the closet for just a few minutes. He’d always intended to come back for her. He didn’t mean to leave his sister behind. He thought she’d be safe!

He had to get to Lamie!

There! The closet was straight ahead! He could hear Lamie inside, screaming for her big brother to save her.

He flung open the door only to find a woman with dark, curly hair and a bandana staring up at him instead.

“Law, it’s me…”

Taking in his pained and panicked expression, it was clear that Law was in the clutches of a pretty intense nightmare, and Ikkaku wasn’t the kind of woman who stood idly by while her captain was suffering.

Grateful that he didn’t have Kikoku on him to slice her to bits if he woke up in a hostile mood, she grabbed his shoulder and shook hard. “Law, it’s me. Hey, wake up!”

“Lamie?” he asked, eyes bleary and unfocused.

“Law, what’s—” Ikkaku started, only for her captain to grab her shoulder and pull her in for a hug. Immediately, she stiffened. Law was not a hugger. Sure, on good days he deigned to be hugged—mostly by Bepo—but he wasn’t the sort to initiate platonic, physical displays of affection.

“You’re ok,” he gasped. He squeezed her tightly and buried his head in her shoulder, breathing deeply. She didn’t smell like smoke or sickness or death.

She smelled like engine oil and coffee, though, with a hint of ginger lotion underneath. Scents that could never be associated with Lamie.

Reluctantly, he became aware of his surroundings. He wasn’t in the charred remains of the hospital. Wasn’t surrounded by the bodies of his friends and family, or soldiers pointing guns at him.

He was in his ship’s library, alone with his mechanic, who was staring at him in shock because he was practically crushing her to his chest.

Law mentally berated himself as he pushed Ikkaku away, brain finally catching up to his body. He’d fallen asleep, had a nightmare, and like some frightened child had latched onto the first person he saw upon being awoken. Disgusting, uncaptainlike behavior that never should have been witnessed by his subordinate.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes while trying to play it cool to retain some dignity. “I…thought you were someone else.”

“Someone named Lamie,” Ikkaku pressed, taking the seat beside him and reaching for his hand. “Law, please; I know I’ve only been around for a year, but if something’s bothering you—”

“It’s nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. ‘Nothing’ doesn’t cause nightmares. You can talk to me.”

“Fine, it’s not nothing, but it’s none of your damn business,” he growled, refusing to look at her. He felt irrationally angry; in his dream, he’d been so close to saving his sister, only for Ikkaku to replace her. Then, upon awakening, he’d had a faint moment of delusional hope that maybe Lamie really was alive, only to be replaced again.

Ikkaku recoiled, his harsh tone stinging as much as his words. It wasn’t any of her business because she was just his subordinate. Yet despite his creepy and sadistic tendencies, over the past year, she’d grown attached to him. He was caring and honorable and protective; everything she’d wished her brothers had been. In fact, she’d started to wonder if he felt a hint of brotherly affection towards her; he never seemed to give her more than a slap on the wrist for backtalk. Was quick to scare off unsavory men in taverns. Trusted her judgement when it came to the submarine’s engine, even though she’d been just an apprentice mechanic when he’d hired her.

Clearly, she’d looked too deeply into his actions. He tolerated her sass because he was too busy to reprimand her. Protected her because he couldn’t risk something happening to his mechanic. Accepted her input because he didn’t know enough to contradict her.

Ikkaku wasn’t anything special to him. Everything he did was for practical reasons.

Pulling away before she broke her own heart, she grumbled, “Fine, but I’m telling Penguin about this. You need to talk to someone, and if you don’t trust me—”

“I trust you,” Law stated, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed in confusion.

“You trust me to keep the Tang sailing. To tell you if the engine needs repairs or if there’s a maintenance issue. To have your back in a fight. You trust me like any captain should trust his subordinate.” As she stood up, she forced a smile; something she hadn’t had to do since joining his crew. “That’s the kind of trust that matters, right? That we both know how to do our jobs and keep each other alive on the treacherous, unforgiving sea. Anything else…well that’s just gravy, right?” Despite herself, her lip quivered slightly, forcing her to pretend to organize some of the books on the table so he wouldn’t see her moment of weakness.

From his seat, Law stared at her. In the year she’d been onboard, he’d determined his mechanic to be reckless, outspoken, and loyal. Compassionate to those she considered friends. Genuine. Determined. Intelligent. Vibrant.

Everything he’d imagined his sister would become.

Coming to a decision, Law grabbed Ikkaku’s forearm to get her attention. “Lamie…Lamie was my sister. She died in a hospital fire when I was a kid.”

“Oh gods,” Ikkaku whispered, free hand covering her mouth in horror.

“She wore pigtails,” he admitted, glancing at the twin bunches of hair. “Some days, it’s hard to remember her face, but I can always picture those.”

“I…shit, Law, I’ll take them out,” she offered, immediately reaching up to release the ties.

“Don’t. It’s fine. It just confused me. In the dream, I was searching for her. Everyone else was dead, and the hospital was burning all around me, but I had to find her. I’d told her to hide in a closet while I went to find mother and father, but they were already dead—”

“It’s ok,” she whispered, instinctively sitting back down so she could pull him into a hug. “You don’t need to tell me. I’m…that wasn’t your fault.” No wonder he was so reluctant to let people in. She’d heard about things like survivor’s guilt, and Bepo had implied that he’d lost a lot of people in his short life.

Ikkaku suddenly felt guilty for overstepping her boundaries. She should have let him come to her when he was ready instead of forcing her way in. Hell, she shouldn’t even be hugging him without permission!

But when she tried to pull away, she felt Law’s hand on her back, refusing to let her move an inch.

“You…make me miss her less. Her smile always brightened up the room. When she was sick, I spent a lot of my free time trying to cheer her up. To make her laugh. Sometimes, when you laugh, I close my eyes and pretend it’s hers. That I hadn’t failed, and she’d grown up to become a smart, vibrant young woman like you.”

Ikkaku worried her lip, mulling over his words and debating how she should respond. He’d opened up to her. Trusted her as more than a subordinate. She was something special to him.

He deserved to know she felt the same.

“Law, I…I grew up with four older brothers. All of them were dicks who wanted nothing to do with me. They’d cut my hair off, break my stuff, mock me for wanting to be a mechanic—hell, they once tried to abandon me in the woods.” She looked up at him with a small, sad smile. “So believe me when I say you didn’t fail. You did everything you could. Lamie was damn lucky to have such a loving, protective big brother.”

Law’s heart clenched. Honestly, he’d felt guilty, pushing his feelings for his sister onto Ikkaku. Partially because he felt like he was replacing Lamie; like he was trying to erase his mistakes. And partially because he knew it was unfair to Ikkaku. She deserved to be appreciated for herself, not as some substitute for a girl who died years ago.

But…she didn’t seem to mind. Considering her own brothers, perhaps Ikkaku had secretly appreciated those moments where he’d been a bit overprotective, or unconsciously spoiled her in some way. Perhaps Lamie would even approve of this coping mechanism. Perhaps his subconscious had put her in his dream to show him that, while it was too late for his sister, there was another girl he could still protect.

Such thoughts were better analyzed when he was less tired.

Arm dropping from its place at her back, he pulled away from the embrace. “Help me get to my quarters. Penguin will bitch for hours if he finds out I fell asleep in the library again.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Ikkaku said, tugging him to his feet. It seemed their little moment was over, but she didn’t mind, especially if it meant Law would actually get some rest. “Want me to call Bepo? He’d be happy to let you use him as a pillow.”

“No. He needs his rest. We’ll surface first thing in the morning—the sub’s getting too stuffy.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, wrapping one of his long arms around her shoulders to better support his lethargic body as they walked down the hall in comfortable silence.

When they arrived at his quarters, she asked, “Sure you don’t need anything? I drank too much coffee, so I’ll be awake for a while. I could clean up the library, or—”

“If you want to help…” Law trailed off, hesitating. He internally debated voicing his request before finally swallowing his pride. “Stay with me a bit. To make sure I actually do fall back asleep. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that,” she said with a surprised smile.

Stepping aside, he let her into the room. “Just so you know, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll cut out your tongue and preserve it in formaldehyde.”

Her grin sharpened into something a bit more teasing. Ah, there was the creepy captain she knew and loved. “As if anyone would believe that the big, bad Surgeon of Death needed someone to hold his hand and scare the nightmares away.”

“I never asked you to hold my hand.”

She giggled before dragging his desk chair over to his bed while he kicked off his shoes and crawled under the covers.

“Did you check under the bed for monsters?” he asked dryly, a hint of his sarcastic smirk lifting his lips.

She rolled her eyes. “Please, like there’s anything scarier than you on this ship.”

“Damn straight,” he replied, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. His eyes drooped a bit as his head sank into the pillow. “Know any lullabies?”

“A few. You really want one?”

“Could be nice, especially if it’s the last time I hear your voice should you not manage to keep your mouth shut about this.”

Sniggering, Ikkaku tousled his hair before clearing her throat, softy singing as her captain gradually drifted off.

“Though I know I'll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more.”

END

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