#in the race aftermath this is what i’m choosing to focus on because i saw the new angle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Y’know, I’ve posted before about how important it can be to survivors to be in charge of determining when they disclose what happened to them and to whom in what ways.....and thus how the trend of Dick’s ‘secret’ (what happened with Tarantula or Mirage or both) being found out by his family or friends despite his wishes or even his active efforts to keep it secret, and he’s forced to confront it and deal with all of them knowing before he’s ready and made any kind of peace with it himself, and this is often framed as being what’s best for him and its better now that everything’s out in the open and its like....no, that’s not how it works, you can’t FORCE people to recover on YOUR time table, and it happening in a way that gives them no agency or control over it is often a SETBACK instead of like....to their benefit, because while at its heart, disclosure is a relatively simple action, it can be hugely empowering to survivors because its the first time they’re able to definitively take what happened to them and DECIDE what happens next, to take back some of the CONTROL that was ripped away from them by the event and sent their life into a tailspin ever since.....

Ahem. Anyway. Like I said, y’know how I’ve posted before about....all of...well, that?

LOL.

Yeah, so anyway, I’ve been thinking lately about an ideal ‘counter-trend’ that I think could add so much to the view of these parts of Dick’s narrative and character and to discussions about them....and it also IMO is one of the most likely and in character ways that Dick WOULD be likely to disclose what happened to him and make it known to family or friends.....WHILE letting him retain full personal agency over making that choice HIMSELF, for his OWN reasons....

And that’s like.....letting them all find out because Dick makes the personal decision to open up about that to a survivor or recent victim he sees struggling in the aftermath of their own assault.

Exposing his own vulnerabiltiies and hurt in order to HELP someone, to make something from his own pain, which is one of the key ways IMO that Dick tends to his own trauma and recovery.....using what happened to him as an opportunity to better help others, be there for them, connect with them and give them an easier time of it or more tools to help in their own recovery than he’d had himself. When he’s able to say and do the things a victim really needs to here right then and there, because he’s been there himself and he’s just saying or doing what he wishes someone had said or done for him but hadn’t known at the time he needed or wanted or even had someone available to ask even if he were able to.

I’d love to see a Dick Grayson who finds the strength and will to open up about his own secrets and traumas even if it means people close to him finding out and maybe pitying him (which he hates and I think is one of the primary reasons he doesn’t tell people when something bad happens to him oif he can help it) - and who does so because its the strength someone needs from him in that moment, and Dick’s personal call to heroism is the need, the drive, to be what someone needs in order to save them if its at all within his capabilities. That’s why he’s a hero: he doesn’t know how to NOT intervene in a situation where he knows his unique talents and skills could help protect or defend someone, save them from pain or loss or dying. He doesn’t WANT to know how.

Gimme a Dick Grayson who swallows down his fears, straightens his shoulders and defiantly tells his primal reptile brain “Fuck his secrets” - he couldn’t save this person from having this thing happen to them, but he can still be a kind of hero to them, for them, by CONNECTING with them, revealing that even he, a bonafide SUPERHERO, can and has been hurt that way, and it sucks and its painful and it wakes him up sometimes in the middle of the night, but he’s still here, he’s still the person HE chooses to be, someone who still laughs and cries and has friends and goals and dreams and bad days but good days as well....show me him being their own personal superhero by cutting straight through the shit their own demons try to convince them of - that this is their fault or they deserved this or it wouldn’t have happened if they were stronger, smarter, BETTER - because when freaking Nightwing, son of the Batman and leader of the Titans and someone superheroes the world over speak of in glowing terms....

When THAT guy looks you straight in the eye and tells you none of that is true, that he knows this because it happened to him too, and it had nothing to do with strength or weakness or deserving it or wanting it......its a HELL of a lot easier to believe coming from him. To internalize. To take in and make a mantra in your head that you can summon forth to remind yourself of whenever doubts start to sneak up on you again. That you can call to mind whenever you have a PTSD flashback or a panic attack - that memory of him standing tall and strong even as he relayed his own story of being struck low, and offering you a hand to help you up when he saw you trapped in a place he recognized, a labyrinth he’d found his own way out of.

That image of him smiling at you with no trace of the pain you’re feeling now, or so much as a hint of judgment or pity as he’d said:

“I get it. I was there once too, lying right where you are now and unable to even imagine a day when I’d be able to stand up again. But in time I did, so I could be here when you needed me to be, when you needed a hand extended from just the right height and not an inch higher. Something for you to grab onto and just use to steady yourself as you regain your feet and stand on your own, rather than a puppeteer dragging you upright by unwilling strings, legs extended but still completely incapable of supporting you on their own, ensuring dependency on that puppetmaster to prop you up from behind and move your limbs the way they think they should be moving as tell themselves they helped.”

“Maybe so I could be here keeping you company when you’re afraid to be alone, or just be here to be a mirror until you’re ready to face someone and look them in the eye.....a mirror in whose reflection you see your past behind you, and a glimpse of a possible future, one with hope. One with joy. With good days as well as any bad ones, and confidence and security in yourself and your ability to stand on your own.”

“Maybe so I could be here when you need someone to stand beside you when you’re ready to face society again, so you don’t have to depend on the kindness of strangers whose faces only reflect a pity for your past, their eyes always straying to where they expect to see it anchored around your ankle like an albatross that will only ever let you rise so high, never able to venture further from it than that anchor’s chain will allow.'”

“Or so I could be here when you need a guide who’s familiar with this road and has walked it before, can help you navigate the hidden dangers a little more safely, head in the right direction a little more confidently. Or maybe you could use a comrade in arms to back you up when you’re in the thick of that struggle, that personal war that countless others have fought their own versions of before. Each of them knowing just how hard it is and how fiercely you have to fight just when it feels most hopeless. And many of whom are ready and willing to return to the fight and battle alongside you if that’s what you need instead. Like people say, there’s strength in numbers....and there’s also strength in others’ stories of their own past victories, in knowing that people before you have won that war or found some measure of peace somewhere away from the battlefield, that its happened before and it can happen again, maybe even to you. Or hearing in their tales inspiration for your own tale of triumph, and even just a single flickering thought, there and gone in a single moment but still there, still counting....of an After where you could someday be one of the storytellers giving someone strength with your own.”

No matter how simple or eloquent the words he uses, even the prettiest words only have as much substance as the actions behind them. Anyone can say those things, anyone can coach you to say those things to yourself, but believing them is another story entirely. And if that belief isn’t there yet, won’t come when you call.....when you’re not quite ready to believe in yourself again - well, that’s when having a hero to believe in can come in quite handy.

And if you need a hero to believe in? To believe when he says he’s been where you are and where he is now is where you could be someday too....its hard to do better than Nightwing.

(This is where things kinda got away from me and turned into a very experimental thing I didn’t intend to write or realize I was writing until I finished it and I’m still not entirely sure what exactly it is. Oh, me.)

Because Nightwing flies, he soars. No matter how low a depth he launches himself from, there’s very few who can claim to ever rise to his highest heights.

They say he’s the first Boy Wonder, the laughing sprite in brilliant red and green and yellow that stood out in stark contrast to the violent backdrop of Gotham’s darkest nights. A human light source, a mortal star that shone so brightly he powered a whole city’s hope for the future by himself - a singular focus for an entire population’s belief in the strength and power and spirit of youth. Standing at the very forefront of the heroes of tomorrow, first out of even their initial vanguard, the frontrunners who unrepentantly choose a headstart to saving the world and race into the future’s unknown dangers and uncertainties well ahead of the starting gun. Even among his own peers, he was the one to launch the opening sally, to rally the others to arms, all by pitching his flag in Gotham of all places.

The first shots of the war for the future were fired in a city famous for its dead. And its’ Dark Knight’s famous antipathy to guns aside, it was his brightly laughing Robin who pulled that particular trigger. Oddly fitting, despite any initial bemusement that might raise - its those trapped in the darkest of places who need the brightest lights if they’re going to see which way they should go.

(There’s a kind of tragedy in how few will ever truly know what a fitting champion for Gotham he’d turn out to be. The worst of its villains tried to claim the hallmarks of childhood, of joy - of circuses and spectacles for his calling card. And in turn, it was a joyous child straight out of the circus who would return those to their rightful owners. Who made a hero’s covenant with an unsuspecting city the first time he stood in some forgotten alley helping up an almost victim who will never know the significance of it being the first time that boy refused to let their brush with violence be the last and most vivid memory they carried on from that night, and so who instead provided something unexpected, something memorable, something powerful - the strange miracle of a child laughing in the same shadows that only minutes earlier had hidden terrible dangers, proof positive that no matter what horrors the dark corners of Gotham hide.....there can be joy and happiness and laughter found in those same places too.

The Joker may have laughed first, taking something good and warping and twisting it into a celebration of sadism....but its the children of Gotham who will laugh last.)

But this is about the credentials of Nightwing, when offering comfort to survivors. About proof of the power backing up his words when he extends a hand and says this too shall pass.

Because Nightwing is who that boy became, grew into, the shape that promise of the future poured itself into on the day that future finally arrived. Who made himself a hero even among heroes, the Pygmalion of his own inspiration, that he in turn passed on down the line. A brand-new mythology born into a world that thinks mythologies only belong to the dead; a creation story that just so happens to double as Gotham’s ultimate success story:

Once upon a time, a monster murdered a child’s parents and innocence with a single vicious blow. That alone would definitively see to this being shelved among the Tragedies - but its not in Gotham’s nature to resist an opportunity to double down. Thus rather than help him find a new happy ending, the champions of justice who claimed to have ridden to his rescue instead just dropped him into the worst of Gotham’s filth; no way out in sight, even upon the most distant horizon.

And even when Gotham’s own darkest of angels (the only kind she’d allow past her gates) even when the Batman himself reached a hand down to help lift him out, the boy chose to stay down there at his side each night instead. Because there were others stuck in the swamp still, see. Others not so different from him. Why should he hide behind clean, austere walls when he had two hands that could help lift others out just as well? And he waded through the endless swamp for years without ever letting it drag him down. Slogging determinedly through it no matter how hard it made it to keep lifting his feet.

They say back then he was so small, even the smallest wave in that sea of corruption should have crashed far above his head rather than breaking upon him like a shore. Should have drowned him in Acheronian waters of wailing and woe with even just the sheer weight of their vastness. But he just kept forging his way forward, as if it were the Styx and the river’s violence only made him stronger instead. He was so tiny, they said, he should have succumbed to being dragged down to its depths by a Gotham that tried to sing him into eternal sleep like it was a siren with a repertoire of lullabies.

By all accounts, the boy Robin who seemed to have sprung forth fully formed from Batman’s shadow, already a warrior ready to wage war from the moment of his birth - he was a paradox, a contradiction to himself. The figure they told stories of, the height they lowered their hands to when describing him with tales twice as tall as the hero in them....well. Gotham is a graveyard for bright lights, not the wellspring that births them. It should never have produced even a grimly avenging hero like Batman, let alone the cheerful champion at his side. By all rights, the Boy Wonder’s only destiny should have been to be another statistic lost in a war of attrition against Gotham’s signature entropy. One more casualty to its chaos as it inches ever closer to its own demise: an inevitable implosion of its own making, the serpent that eats its own tail.

But the wonder of the Boy Wonder is that despite all expectations, despite all logic, despite all the reasons his only fate should have been to fall....he grew up. Rose up. Flew to heights most lack the context to even dream of. He was another Icarus, one who’d learned nothing from the fate of the first; determined to fly even higher while everyone else cried warnings of already being high enough. But he was an Icarus the sun welcomed as a kindred spirit instead of a trespasser, rejuvenating him at the apex of each flight he made rather than burning the wax from his wings.

He lasted...and that alone already made him a legend. From his first flight as Robin, everyone had expected his story to end as a mere cautionary tale. And slowly but surely Robin taught them to expect the unexpected.

(Not quite as fast as they could’ve, however. You’d think the citizens of Gotham would have taken a note from seeing their Robin live past even the longest odds that’d been laid against his longevity, bets made and never paid because he just wouldn’t die. But the stubbornness that keeps Gothammites rooted in Gotham is a double-edged sword. They made fresh bets when a new Robin took to the sky.....and again, most people defined “Robin” as an inevitable word of warning spoken to anyone who might follow But if bookies called it a nightmare when the first Robin stayed alive and a success story from the city who hated seeing an underdog succeed, they ran out of ways to curse the second Robin when he proved that Robins can double down too, and screwed their bets all to hell. But after all, what did people expect? There’s no better sequel to the boy who refused to die, than the boy who died and refused to stay dead. But that too is another story entirely.)

But in this story, the story of Robin the first - that story turned out to be just the first chapter. The Robin that sings Gotham into a new spring with nothing but his refusal to stop singing becomes the Nightwing who hunts with all the grace and strength of any bird of prey, both by day and all through the night. He’s the man that grew out of the seeds a Robin planted in the memory of his home, and then nurtured with his own light. Who blossomed thanks to roots that may have been transplanted from a far distant garden, but still took to new soil so vigorously, so firmly, it didn’t matter how much the city tried to wash away the ground beneath his feet......his footing stayed level and steady as he kept moving ever forward.

Year after year, head always held high - and only rising higher and higher as he grew taller with the passage of time. Making him all the more visible even to those further and further away, until finally he reached the end of the path he’d stuck to even through the roughest neighborhoods of a childhood done Gotham’s way. But the end of that road was no more an ending than the last page of Chapter One.

Because where others might have seen a wall, Robin saw a springboard and the possibility of any number of new roads on the other side of that wall, just hidden from sight. And so he just stepped right up to it, on it, and he bent his knees and leaped into the air and flew. High enough and bright enough he could be seen no matter where you stood below. Free as a bird, with feathers who refused to be stained by the oil and garbage that Gotham tried to paint him with, every day of the childhood it had tried its hardest to knock him off his chosen course and force him down another path. With wings that had refused to be clipped, refused to get caught and trapped by deception, by corruption, by defeat. By whatever the city could find to throw at him in its attempts to stop him in his tracks, to keep him from going any further, or better yet, to turn him around and sent in the opposite direction. Because Gotham is a city who likes its stagnancy, likes its despair. Likes having a strong brand with a clear message for the rest of the world: that Gotham is the city where even hope goes to die. That you’d best abandon hope all ye who enter here, because the city will find some way to destroy any that gets smuggled across its borders anyway.

And Nightwing. Well. Nightwing is the the proof that Gotham is a liar.

Nightwing is their child hero Robin, the embodiment of youth’s hope and potential and self-determination, now reborn in a new image and with a new name. Gone to spread his light to a new city desperately in need of illumination, but never forgetting where he came from. Never flying so far away that he couldn’t swiftly make the return journey any time Gotham’s citizens needed him once more. Needed that bright and carefree grin to again shine defiantly through the shadows like a lighthouse that stands strong and sturdy and impervious through even the worst of storms. That stays on task as it tunnels through the darkness and makes its point of origin the light at the end of the tunnel for all in desperate need of one. Confident in its walls’ ability to remain unmoved by even the most vicious and violent winds throwing themselves bodily against them. Certain the ground beneath it will remain unshaken by any attempt to erode its foundation. Trusting the worksmanship that crafted the roof to keep the pounding rain shut out and nothing but an offbeat melody overhead. Powerless to douse the life-saving, hope-birthing, reliable, consistent light.

Nightwing is a lance of light and the one hurling it like a javelin into the night, both at the same time, two parts in one. A brilliant spear that cleaves through any and all darkness, no matter how thick a blanket of it Gotham hurls over rooftops in its need to stamp out any and all light before anyone can see it and take hope. But in that it is its own undoing, because its been trying that trick since Nightwing was just a tiny little Robin, and every attempt to dial down that brilliance and reset it to dim - they’ve only ever prompted and spurred the Gotham-forged hero to shine all the brighter, refusing to be beaten down or snuffed out.

(And his flight to a new city, a second city - well, that was probably always inevitable, in hindsight. After all, in the fullness of his realized potential, the mature wings of the Robin that was once just tiny little spark - now they spread too wide to be contained by a single city. Gleam with a brightness too blinding to be focused on just one city, especially one more accustomed to living in shadow.)

And whether he called Bludhaven or Gotham home, whenever Gotham was most lost, he was always right there and ready to light that lighthouse lamp the moment the sun goes down. Its guiding, inspiring, hopeful light leaping forth with that same youthful exuberance that had stayed the signature of their Robin through all the years he grew. A brilliant arrow fired from the bow of a champion taught by the best archer in the world how to always hit his mark....unfailingly burning through any fog and confusion that tried to get in the way of that fearless beacon shining on despite the vastness and inevitability of night. As it guided people through tempest-tossed waves, no matter how distant the shore. Remaining lit for as long as it took them to reach a safe port they could take shelter in and ride out the chaos. Weather it until it was safe to come out again.

If Gotham was a crucible, Nightwing was both the weapon it forged and the flame it fueled, the inferno it unleashed. If Gotham was the city where even hope dies, Nightwing was the hope so enduring, so willful, it simply....refused to die. If Gotham was a city of men and nightmares, Nightwing was the boy who learned to fly in defiance of all physics, all the reasons mere mortals were meant to stay earth-bound. All so that all his fellow mortals could point to him in the sky and say this. This is the reason we still dream of the impossible anyway. And yet he’s also the man who still held on to his dreams despite all the times and ways life tried to convince him that dreams are meant to fade in time, to grow distant and indistinct with age. That the death of dreams was a strength, that it was freedom...rather than the very things that once convinced a boy he could fly.

Because the impossible is simply possibilities that haven’t happened just yet. Something that is only unreal until the day someone or something does it first.

And then suddenly, it turns out it was possible all along.

That’s the truth behind any words he speaks, the reason they can’t help but ring as true in your ears when you’re face to face with an ordinary man who somehow kept pace with gods when he was still waiting on growth spurts.

That’s the bedrock he’s standing on, when he’s standing beneath someone about to fall saying don’t be scared, that he’ll catch them. That’s the iron hidden beneath his frame that makes him into an Atlas prepared to hold up the sky, if that’s what needed to be sure he can keep his word, that his footing is sure and his stance won’t waver an inch.

That’s the superpower of the man with no superpowers, the paradox of being the impossible made possible and for whom no possibility is too high to reach.

Plus, you’re pretty sure he’s like, literally saved the world.

So when Nightwing stands before you and somehow feels at your level rather than like he’s looming over you right when you’re at your worst....when its Nightwing who looks you straight in the eye and you can actually see the sincerity in his eyes even though the whited-out lenses that are technically hiding his eyes from sight.

When Nightwing offers you his hand and says its just for support, for you to use to pull yourself to your own feet. When he says its not going away, that it’ll be there until you’re ready to use it, that its up to the task and so are you.

When its Nightwing who tells you that once it was him in your place and that someday it could be you in his place instead. When he says everything you’re feeling right now is real and valid and earned, but to remember that whatever those feelings are they coexist with facts and the facts are you once stood on your own using nothing but your own strength before you were knocked down, and being knocked down isn’t proof you can’t do it again when you’re ready.

When its Nightwing who spreads his arms wide and says here he is, proof of concept that there’s life after this just like there was life before this. That there were your good days and your bad days then and its no different now. That here he is existing, here he is living, here he stands as a survivor and living proof that this can and will be survived......

Well.

Its a lot easier to believe any and all of that, when its Nightwing that’s saying it to you. Its a little bit easier to imagine taking that hand and actually climbing to your feet, a little less of an impossible to picture feat when a living legend tells you that his offer of a hand only means he knows he could have used it once and so its there whether you need it or not. That everything you do here and now is entirely up to you.

When a man who has ordered around actual gods stands there and says this is entirely up to you, you call the shots here, he’s just here to play back up....you think......maybe I can do this. Maybe I can move on from this.

Clearly, stranger things have happened.

No matter how impossible it feels right now to imagine a day when everything doesn’t hurt, everything isn’t terrible, when you don’t see monsters lurking in every shadow and a knife for your back in every stranger’s hand, no matter how certain you are that if it were just you right here you’d probably just lie here forever, that you don’t even have the strength right now to sit up on your own. No matter how fake and trite and Kitten Posters on the Walls of the Guidance Counselor it feels when people tell you that you’re strong enough to do this, beat this, get past this, whatever the hell this actually is...

Sometimes the thing that can make all the difference is a hand that’s just there in case it becomes necessary or welcome. Someone saying its okay if you can’t believe in yourself right now, I’m going to do the believing in you until you’re ready to take over again.

Sometimes the who of the hero is irrelevant, and the only hero you need is someone there to tell you that you are hurting, its real. That someone hurt you and that’s why you’re hurting, that the effect of how you feel has a cause and its not in your head. That everything has a cause and effect, even if its not a step by step road map, and the road to the end effect of saying here I am living, I’m standing here now as proof I survived - all it needs to get started on that road is a cause. Even if that cause is just you saying I want to see what happens next. Maybe its better. Maybe its good.

Sometimes a hero is just the person who says I’m here solely to be a somebody who’s in your corner, and I’m going to be there while you see what happens next whether it does turn out good or not. Someone who is ready and willing to say it as often as it takes for you to believe it.

Sometimes the pain is too great and the thoughts-that-lie are too loud in your ears. You can look at a bonafide superhero standing strong and heroic in front of you, offering a hand and telling you you’re strong enough to take it, and still not buy it, still not believe a single word out of their mouth and its not because you’re broken its because the world is often good at lying and its burned you often enough that being cautious around what might turn out to be fire is not only warranted, its the very thing you need. Before you’re ready to take that next step, whether that’s taking an actual step yet or not. Maybe you think you were wrong about someone being trustworthy and that’s why this happened, and maybe now what you need is to be wrong about someone not being trustworthy and for the sky not to fall, for being wrong to come with no consequences, before you feel safe trusting someone again and hoping this time you’re right.

A hero will stand there regardless, or maybe take a seat if you prefer. Showing up when promised just so they can keep their promise and be proof that promises can be kept. The person who doesn’t dream of saving you, because they’re busy dreaming dreams where you save yourself. Who is there to be there even if all you end up needing them for is their hand and just for five seconds....and who’s still glad to have been there, to have been nothing more than a five-second hand for you to pull yourself up by. Because if its what you needed them to be, their performance as the five-second helping hand is the only starring role they needed or wanted for themselves.

They can be family or they can be a friend, they can be someone you never thought twice about before or someone you hated in third grade. They can be a professional or a total stranger to whom you’re a blank slate.

They can even be you.

Maybe the real hero all along turns out to be one of those stupid fucking Kittens Who Care calendars on the wall. A dumb cliché whose only superpower is being the exact thing you need to hear at the exact moment you need to hear it. The reminder that in the here and now, even at rock bottom, even if you’re all by yourself, that just means that your past isn’t there in that moment with you, and your future is still up to you. An awareness that the thing about rock bottom is no matter how far down you fell before hitting the floor....it is, in fact, a floor. And a floor is a thing you can stand on. A floor is what new things can be built upon.

The great thing about heroes is even the strange magic of hearing a child laughing when you can’t imagine laughing yourself, that might all you need to save you. A recipe for a brighter tomorrow, that reminds you that here you are, still alive, and with an undetermined future: the only ingredients needed to make a possibility, a chance that somewhere ahead of you there’s a day when you’ll laugh again.

The cool thing about a hero with the superpower of achieving the impossible is its the one power that doesn’t need to be a superpower to exist.

Because all the impossible is is a possibility that hasn’t happened yet, a performance still waiting backstage before making its debut. All a possibility is is anything and everything that has yet to be proven impossible.

There’s another word for that superpower. For holding onto a dream no matter how unlikely it is. For aiming for heights that are still possibly in reach until the day its proven for sure that they’re not. For believing that the memory of a time you couldn’t imagine ever being in this much pain....even that can be your tool, even that you can somehow make yours. Presenting as evidence that the flip side of that coin is none of the pain you’re feeling is proof there’s not maybe a day still to come, that’s full of more happiness and joy than you can possibly conceive of here and now, in this time and place..

Another word for that is hope.

Hope is the only power that can always claim to be the thing that saved the world again.

Because as long as it exists, you exist, life goes on....a better future, a future where the day is saved, its still a possibility. And no matter what ultimately claims credit for saving the day, it didn’t do it alone. Hope played a part too.....its the machinery of potential, the forward momentum and the reason it exists. Its the origin story of every wizard and scientist to ever try something with the sole cause of thinking they might get an effect that is new, is unexpected, that surprises.

And when you’re at your absolute lowest, one hundred percent convinced this is as good as it gets. When you can’t imagine or picture any future where things could possibly improve...

You don’t need Superman. You don’t need Wonder Woman.

You need whomever and whatever it is that you can look to, and in them, from them, because of them.....somewhere in all of that is something you can find, can see, can make into a reason to hope.

After that?

The sky’s the limit, and the only really limit is on the other side of the sky.

Its all up to you, and whatever it is that you decide to do next.

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egoat · 3 years

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disco elysium thoughts

he he

i think, overall, it’s great of course; not only is disco the rare example of really smart, leftist art, as well as the even rarer example of dense, literary-bent video game, but it has the greatest trait of media; an intensely detailed, practically overwrought with detail fictional universe that seems to sprawl outwards in every direction, the kind of thing you can get lost in. i’m very interested in this quality of worldbuilding - it’s the thing media now practically revolves around, the capacity of provoking imagination, fandom, interpretation, speculation. a great work can create a world that generates this sort of fascination from as little as two hours of movie runtime, like in the case of the people that became obsessed with having blue alien-sonas after watching avatar. disco has less of a hill to climb because a lot of its lore is pretty clearly spelled out in the over-a-million lines of dialogue it has to offer.

i think there’s sort of a problem here with the presentation, though. the world is, yes, gorgeous and mind-boggling and extremely interesting to speculate about, but i only came to that conclusion probably over halfway through the game. the setup of this suffers from a few things - primarily, the game lacks real focus. the major motif is of course the failed revolution in revachol and the aftermath of that. the game has some real material to cover in the union debacle, and it sort of gives the impression that the game might involve actually getting involved in and resolving the conflict between the union and wild pines, but then that turns out to be a feint and the investigation gets buried down different paths. then the game introduces you to the characters that only want to talk about race, which are amusing enough, but unfortunately unload so many lore terms on you that even the simple joke commentary is rendered indecipherable. the real stumbling block for me was the trope of “fantasy countries that are basically analogous to real countries” - revachol being france, mesque being mexico, etc - which is the sort of thing that always turns out to be so boring it instantly makes you tune out. except things are immediately more complicated than that - “mesque”, for instance, is mentioned as losing international favor as it turned sharply to the far-right, the events of the revolution which would seem to be analagous to the french revolution are actually far more analogous to the russian one and then, what is the state of this world, anyway? why are there certain features of modernity and not others? what’s with “radiocomputers”? once you get to tunneling down these strands, learning about the religion and ancient history and occult elements of the world, namely the “pale”, things come into far better focus and seem way more interesting.

the plot itself doesn’t have quite as much magic as the setting, unfortunately. perhaps it was just how my particular story worked out, but i didn’t end up getting nearly as much resolution out of the main mystery part of the game as i had hoped for, with two main characters disappearing from the map inconveniently before i had the chance to fill out the gaps in the noir timeline. ultimately, the way the actual mystery shakes out ends up being basically two deus ex machinas, which i feel is sort of flawed. a great mystery should give you enough clues to unravel it - and there are a lot of subtleties and second-glance sort of things in the building action of the story, just enough suspicion scattered carefully on the right characters, that it seems committed to this model, but at the very end, the game produces a character completely unconnected to the rest as if to hurriedly wrap things up (and then another character, right behind them, that you also never would have guessed, but that one’s quite a bit more funny, at least). ultimately, the noir aspect of the game doesn’t matter too much - it’s the overall tone, the flavor, the prose, the dialogue, and the side content that more than make up for it, but it ends up being a bit disappointing all the same.

i think this gameplay system, such as it is, is interesting, but leaves something to be desired. you’re running all these checks, and there’s a basic sort of rpg input-feedback logic to it, but i think the reality of play is that there’s no benefit to “builds” and no real method to the madness of these skill checks. by the end of the game, i had pretty much discovered that i wanted every of the 20 skills because there was no rhyme or reason as to which one you’d be tested on, and i would have to obsessively shuffle my clothes and available skill points and saves to pass the check to progress. it’s not too cumbersome, but given that it’s practically all there is to the gameplay, it could have used a bit of paring down and simplification, and probably could have taken randomization out of the equation completely.

the other ways the game “gamifies” the dialog tree are quite interesting in places. because you have to be actually concerned about the consequences of dialogue, it isn’t as simple as clearing out every option - there are real choices, which will have consequences on sometimes your health or morale meters or a check later on in the tree, which makes you be a lot more conscientious in engaging with how you talk to people. unfortunately, this made me very paranoid and avoid picking a lot of the joke options in the game, which are ever-present and sometimes very funny. probably the best example of this is the conversations with klaasje, which feature your skill checks contradicting each other, and you having to choose between them, rather than them giving you the right answer, or the set piece of the mercenaries, which is a bit obtuse, but fascinating in how many ways it can play out.

genuinely, though, it’s such a well-written piece of work, and i’d love for more from its creators. i saw in its wikipedia page tho that they had greenlit a tv show based on disco elysium, which, lol

#disco elysium

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years

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Out of Nowhere Girl Pt.2 - Director Keller / Talos (Captain Marvel)

Part 1

Author’s Note: Did anyone else temporarily forget what this was supposed to be? Because I did. Short. Was the answer. What has developed in my head is a LOT longer. So, I hope you enjoy the ride with Mr.Keller this time around... Pretty much had a brain explosion over the last week due to those deleted scenes and then everyone throwing GIFs around. So here we are! This is also the first time I really get to introduce you to my Keller. As he’s almost entirely a blank slate... I hope you like him! We are following 3 Time Stamps: 1993-1995, allowing us to focus on Keller/Maliyah’s relationship. 1995, in the aftermath of the events of Captain Marvel Present/10 Years Later (c.2005, I suppose), To follow the real story line.

I hope this doesn’t get confusing as hell... Disclaimer: MCU Characters not mine. I stick by Jonathan Richard Keller. No “Canon” is changing that. I’m certainly NOT sorry.

#ComicCanon Premise: Keller had always wondered what was out in space. Naturally he never expected the answer to be ‘the girl of his dreams’; and now he has to let her go...? Talos and Maliyah figure out where they need to get - and it ain’t all good... Words: 3877 Warnings: Zip!

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There were no stars in sight Then the planets all aligned When I saw her eyes One look that's all it took To send me to another galaxy She said, she was on her way to Mars Then she ran into a star and she fell into my arms Thank you gravity, never let her go I'll hide her U.F.O., she'll never have to know She's my space girl and she's outta this world ...She looked kinda bored Said she'd seen it all before Made me wonder even more Which universe was hers? What galaxy did she call home? Like a meteor I'm fallin’ From the first time I saw her It was heaven on earth

--- Circa 1993 Getting called to any incident was likely a bad thing. Except this one. This one, Keller couldn't refuse. The course, rough, ugly streaks through the salt left harsh black scars where the ship had hit before coming to a complete stop. Keller tried to stop himself from getting too giddy. He'd long been a geek when it came to space - if you got him started on science and astronomy, he was off like a proverbial rocket. (To be honest, any flying craft was likely to get him talking like that; as the model planes in his offices and his apartment would prove… But space was his real muse.) And this didn't look like it had come from Earth. Which is of course, why Keller and his S.H.I.E.L.D agents had been called in. He had to be professional about this situation though. He had a team of good, good people. And he couldn't risk their lives. He was the leader and he had a responsibility. Even if he was slightly freaking out about the prospect of meeting an alien life form. "Sir, have you ever seen anything like this?" Keller shook his head. Not as an agent, nor director had he ever been called to a UFO sighting or similar. He'd dreamed it, plenty of times. But he'd never actually been. "No..." he was quiet, but his voice no less authoritative. When he spoke, they listened. No questions. "Team, proceed with caution. We don't know what we're dealing with..." The structure of the ship was weird in itself. The blue and yellow painted metal twisted, but not completely broken. It was shaped a little bit like an 8 point star - or would have been - there was definitely nothing like that on Earth. Keller’s heart jumped in his chest and he had to check himself a few times. "Life signs?" "Negative, sir." He wasn’t disappointed, that didn't mean there weren't any. "Keep on your toes. All your wits about you, we are a little out of our depth here..." and Keller couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched either. As his crew searched amongst the wreckage Keller surveyed the scene again. He'd have to call it in. Of course, he would. But what do you even write on a report like this? No doubt the board - the creators of S.H.I.E.L.D themselves - would want this as down low and classified as possible. And these marks all over Utah’s salt flats would need to be explained away somehow. Now he had to think on a cover story AND get this ship out of here without Joe public finding out a thing. He'd done similar before. He wasn't worried. That was when he spotted her. Standing a little way away but not trying to look inconspicuous. Keller visibly startled and his heart leapt again. He looked back to his preoccupied team and then touched his right side. His pistol was there. Keller was a quick draw... He proceeded. She didn't, almost like she was waiting for him to come to her. But she eyed the team around the ship with some interest. Keller all at once realised he didn't know what he was going to say. This was his first ever in counter with an alien lifeform and he couldn't screw it up! But what to say!? She was silent herself and looked relaxed about the situation. Dressed in black flight pants and a black-and-tan vest top that cut just above her stomach, what looked like a weapon on her right hip, where her hands sat relaxed (should he ask her to remove her weapon? Was that a dumb thing to ask?), her clothing was a little ripped and charred but, she looked miraculously intact. The star shaped necklace that hung from her neck on a fine chain was eerily reminiscent of the ship now buried in the dried-up lake behind them. Her shoulder length hair ran pink and purple and she almost looked human. But he was transfixed by her eyes. Deep blue, purple. No they were certainly purple. And they looked like they held stars - cosmic. Keller felt lightheaded. Have mercy-! He took a deep breath; "Is the ship yours?" Dumb-! Dumb, Keller-! That's your first sentence!?! Really!?! You've dreamed of this moment since you were about 3 and that's the first thing you say!?! She gave a smile, then a slight laugh. "Yeah." then with a raised eyebrow; "What are you doing to it?" English. She spoke English. And her voice... Good lord. Keller found he had to check himself AGAIN. "Guess I'm on Earth." She kept talking "You’re human. Obviously." He had a nice accent. It was different to Peter’s, for sure, the twang, but... American. Had she landed in America? Maliyah Saal couldn’t keep the smile from her face; it was nice to be around a human again even if accidentally. She could feel his emotion so clearly; the internal fighting with himself was like reading a book. A very interesting book, mind you. How he seemed to switch between excitement and fear. Constantly. How she could feel him fighting to choose every word he said. She was positive that she was the first extra terrestrial race he’d ever encountered. "We were sent to investigate the crash. Yeah, you're... On Earth... Utah." She didn't need to know that. Why was he saying this!? Was he nervous? Was he babbling because he was nervous!?! "Where are you from...?" She tipped her head, trying to decide if she trusted him or not. But Maliyah decided she did; "I came from Xandar. But... I'm from Aauraa. That's my race. Auron.” That's two places that had life out there. Now he was certain there were many more. He held out his hand, she didn't seem dangerous. Hell. She seemed like everything he'd ever wanted. Think of what she could tell him. "I'm Jonathan Keller. I'm the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D." he had a warm smile and she liked that "I guess I'm between LA and Atlanta..." He didn't know why he was telling her about two places she didn't know. But he'd been raised right, and he politely matched the information she was giving him. Jonathan, she almost had to laugh again. Jonathan Keller and Peter Quill... Two human males that clearly couldn't be further apart. For one, the male in front of her was a lot older; a man and not a boy. He was wearing a suit that edged professional, but she was willing to bet, from the fact he was here, it was not a kind of... Corporate role. The team was significant. And she had observed enough to know that he was both the leader and had their respect and trust. That was important. His hair was once dark but had faded to grey overtime. Still, the black that showed up in places let her know Keller was not nearly as old as it made him look. And his eyes. She'd not seen a blue quite that spectacular in all her years of travel. And she'd been more than her fair share of places. He watched as she backed up slightly, eyes wide and turned to his team. All at once they had noticed what was going on, stood in a neat row that flanked him. They all had their guns drawn, but all were pointed to the ground. Good. He didn’t want to screw this one up. They were a good team. They probably knew he wasn’t in trouble, but they were ready to spring into action if she tried anything. He motioned for them to lower their weapons; “It’s Okay…” Keller’s voice was suddenly vastly different from how he was speaking to her. And she noticed it instantly. How calm he was. “…She’s Okay… It’s alright…” This was a man who had been in charge a long time. Who had seen a lot. And knew exactly how to handle a situation. These other humans were not loyal to him because of his title. They were loyal to him because he had earned it. Jonathan Keller had proven he was worthy of it. And that made Maliyah smile even more, she knew that ship would be out of action for a while until she fixed it. And if she had to find and trust someone on this planet… there wouldn’t have been a better man to encounter than him. Keller turned back to her as his agents did as he asked. Her eyes were trained on his face, and her lips were slightly parted. He wanted to call it awe. But that was impossible. Why would something so beautiful be in awe of him? When she had come from way out there in the stars? He inhaled, and then exhaled – and this time it worked. And they both felt the way his nerves calmed – though he didn’t know it. He extended his hand to her; a customary professional Earth greeting when meeting for the first time; “Is this.. your first time on earth?" Maliyah reached out and took his hand and he felt himself go lightheaded again. Gosh-! Now he was touching her..?!! He wondered if she knew how excited he was. That this was possibly better than every alien encounter dream he'd ever had. He hoped his professionalism was intact. "Maliyah, Saal. Treasure hunter... Member of the Nova Corp." Director sounded important. She wanted to match that herself "And yes." He had to smile then, properly. Maliyah Saal sounded like she came from the stars. "Well..." Keller glanced around him and then met those eyes again; "Welcome to Earth."

She inclined her head in thanks. But Keller needed to think quick. It wasn’t just a girl he was dealing with. But that ship too. Maliyah let his hand go, because it was clear he wasn’t going to do the same. She was glad that her skin would only ignite if they were together. Not that she would dwell on that, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be here and that Earth was about the one place in the galaxy that didn’t know about the races that lived in the rest. She would not stay long enough to form any kind of friendship with him, simply an arrangement of coincidence. Still – when his skin touched hers, she couldn’t help but feel all his emotion. She wanted desperately to calm him down – to tell him not to be as terrified as he was. Because there was no denying under his exterior he WAS. But she couldn’t reveal exactly what she was just yet – which meant she couldn’t exert influence on him either. At least not here. “…Maliyah, I’m afraid we will have to move your ship. As you may well imagine we are not used to coming into contact with…” He hesitated, aliens? Could he say that to her? Was that offensive..? “…Other races.” “I understand.” Although she couldn’t see his teeth she could tell they were sinking into his bottom lip – solemn “…I also need to ask you to come with me.” He didn’t want to say it. Keller didn’t want to sound like he would have to take her by force – but knew he would if necessary. She understood that too; but was curious enough; “Where?” “There is a facility not too far from here.” The lip bite turned into a smile, it was a warm smile. He was smiling at her because he wanted to, not because he had to. It had nothing to do with reassurance, “I promise you, you will be safe there.” ** 1995

The drive to Utah was long, slow and quiet. In fact, Keller thought that if he didn't turn the radio up he would go insane. It had taken another couple of months for him to convince her to even get in his car to go and he knew that she would not want to fix her ship in a hurry. He'd taken the liberty of getting a close-knit band of engineer's together to give himself a head start. She'd probably get mad about that. But he knew what he was doing was for the best. Maliyah would come ‘round to that. She'd got in the car, hadn't she?

He looked across to her, the road was empty and seemed to stretch endlessly. Mile markers aside he felt he was a million lightyears from Utah.

Today she was wearing biker boots and slim fit jeans, shirt over figure hugging vest top she actually looked human. But, far from happy. Arms crossed, looking out the window, feet up on his dash, legs crossed. Even though he'd told her multiple times to take them down. She was pouty too, which was unfortunate because it just made her look cute. The only thing about her that was inhuman was the vibrant colours (because she'd damn well let her emotions show at this point!!) that streaked across her arms. This time they reminded him of the warning lights of deep-sea creatures. She was just mad... And dealing with a lot she didn't understand: or pretended she didn't understand. Jonathan knew he could never fathom which. For all she had opened up to him, he knew there were still many secrets she held back.

“Maliyah…” She shifted in her seat but said nothing “Maliyah look at me…” She heard it in his voice – he was hurting because she was intent on ignoring him, he was hurting because he felt he had to let her go, he was hurting because she was hurting him. “Supernova... Please...” She would have looked to him anyway, but that nickname... he’d use that nickname. So she turned. “Jonathan, I… Don’t want to talk about it.” “…But you know we have to get you off planet… Right? I couldn’t bare to think about whatever these Skrulls might have got out of my head. And now that more people know about what’s really out there, your file will not stay lock-and-key classified for long I can assure you…” Keller put his eyes back on the road, because they smarted when they were locked on hers. Pushing the rolled-up sleeves of his light-blue-purple checked shirt up even further. He noticed her eyes follow the motions and land on his wrist watch with its too many dials. She remembered the inscription on the back and the NASA symbol. NASA – yet another organisation that should know about her and didn’t. Yet another ode to his great love for the stars. Keller knew already how many times he would have to testify on her presence on Earth. Luckily, as his first report had been straight to the board of S.H.I.E.L.D he wouldn’t lose his job for keeping Maliyah to himself – but he might be heavily reprimanded once all the advisory boards and committees started popping up. She finally answered him, also looking ahead, “I do… But I am worried about leaving you.” “I can take care of myself.” “I know you can. But you don’t think I will be worried every time I feel pain?” He tipped his head with a hmm to dodge the question. But realised he couldn’t swerve it like it was a pot-hole in this endless stretch of highway; “…If I make my desk job a desk job, would that make you happier?” “…You tried that already.” “What if I really did it this time?” She shook her head. “That wouldn’t make YOU happy. And I care about that more.” He removed his right hand from a wheel and held it out for her to take. She did, between both of hers. At once her skin ignited; but the colours were soft. She pressed her lips into his palm and he felt that rush of joy, not too much – it was kept toned down. She was doing it again – picking him up. He encased one of her hands in his. It said all he needed too. Though sometimes when she did this Keller couldn’t help but wonder exactly what else Maliyah could influence on a person. She used it for good things… But he had always been fairly positive that if she wanted to see the world in despair, she could do that without a second thought. She was incredible. She would be incredible without being with him; the fact that she was still sometimes made him feel like he was dreaming. …Could he really let her go? For her own good. To protect her. I would do anything…

The reason he had even mentioned keeping himself at his desk was if he got hit too hard (it had to be pretty hard. If she didn’t know anything about his escapade with the shapeshifters), if he bled at all; be it a papercut or a medical check-up pinprick, she would feel that too. Some things Keller just wouldn’t be able to protect her from. He wasn’t always willing to accept this. But she had bonded with him and it had been her choice. Her acknowledgement of the consequences of their union showed nothing but how much she loved him. And God, if he didn’t love her just as much. ** He took his foot off the gas and the car ticked up another mile as a crop of buildings began to creep up on the horizon line. It was all too much too soon. And even her happy influence couldn’t stop him from biting his lip so hard. It was all he could do to stem any tears he could feel coming. No matter how long it took Maliyah to get her ship into order, she wouldn’t leave this facility now until she was ready to break Earth’s atmosphere. His hand shook as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose – don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry… God. Jonathan Richard Keller be STRONG for her. He couldn’t. And he let out a sob; he was shocked that he had, and instantly covered his mouth. She was looking at him now with wide eyes, her lips parted for words she couldn’t say. She knew. Maliyah could feel his sorrow bubbling up inside him but it still shocked her when it broke the surface. Her eyes flicked to the buildings, enlarging by the second, and back to him. They were still a few miles away. But to Keller, it would never be far enough. And he’d insisted on this. He squinted slightly – he could hold those tears back all he wanted; she knew emotionally they were already flowing down his face “I’m sorry…” It was muffled by his hand. “I’m so sorry.” 15 minutes and no tears later he rolled the car to the security gates. He hesitated as his hand hovered over his pass. He had until the guard strolled over to change his mind. To take her back home, because she belonged here with him and he knew that. But how long would that last? How big of a risk was it to keep her here? It wouldn’t just be her home that were looking for her in reality, or the Skrulls if that was even something they would do, but the home she had left. Her older brother, her adoptive parents. Keller knew all about them, and if he was any of those three, he’d want her back. He’d be worried about her. Even that didn’t stop him from wanting to turn back. Maliyah placed her hand gently over his, she may not know his exact thoughts, but she knew how to read his face. She swallowed; it was time for her to be the strong one. “We can do this.” He glanced across to her as she pushed his hand down to enclose around his S.H.I.E.L.D ID card. She was smiling. And this was one of reassurance. “Together. We can do this.” ***

Present

“How exactly do you propose we find them?” Talos looked around, it was built small for a Ravager vessel; he knew that by the fire like emblem emblazoned on the wing of the ship. Inside it was decked out for no more than one or two people; But the tech, all of it new and polished, Talos guessed must have been Xandarian. “…This isn’t just any Milano.” Maliyah indicated to what he had already noticed, “The amount of tinkering I’ve done to this thing over the years… Doesn’t even bare thinking about. The computer system can do just about anything. There’s tech from my home world, tech I’ve lifted with the help of, or from, Ravagers. Earth – obviously! - things I’ve transferred from the Nova Corps vessels, my own crews’ Vessels - They’re pretty much grounded until further notice - But, It’s a Xandarian system. I’m connected to all databases I can get my hands on, most of them I have actual access to – a bit of hacking never hurt anyone…” She sat on the arm of her pilots’ seat and tapped a few things into her computer “…Essentially, every race has a different kind of ship and different fuel elements for each ship. These are good indicators of the who and where, the ship gives out a lot of different signatures of its own, but the fuel particles. That’s what we’re gonna go follow. I don’t always trust ship radars bouncing off of things in space… Very sketchy at times.” “How do you know how to do half these things?” The computer set to work, so she slid into the seat and indicated to a chair; “Buckle up-!” Igniting the fuel of her own ship, the Milano hummed into life. “That human you simed.” She turned to him with a grin “He’s a lot damn smarter than me. I have the tech, I can engineer the tech. He is every single piece of code and every mathematical algorithm behind that tech.”

The Milano’s ship computer beeped enthusiastically as it located the trail left by the Kree ship – running its own diagnostic it came up with a probable location. Making Maliyah grimace; “UGH!” “What?” Talos tilted his head and squinted at the flashing coordinates and corresponding planet name - he didn’t recognize either. “We don’t want to go THERE. Geez, that’s like, half way over the other-other side of the Kree’s sector of the Galaxy…” “…Meaning what?” He turned to her, but Maliyah had that determined look on her face he almost couldn’t help but smile at. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll get you there. It’s once we’re there… I’ll just need some crew back up.” “…Thought you just said your crew was grounded.” She shrugged “Pfft! They were a bunch of trigger-happy treasure hunters before I got them organised into an efficient crew. They’ll just be doing that again-! I’m not dumb enough to think they’d actually listen to a WORD I said.” She pulled another smile and lightly punched the top of his arm; “You’re gonna be glad for that when we get over there.” “Trigger happy sounds just what we need.” It was clear sarcasm. Maliyah grinned, she liked him already. This was going to work out; hell it had to work out. “That planet is deceptively tricky. They’re not going to like me very much, they’re CERTAINLY not gonna like you.”

---

I’m not partial to believing Keller fell in love with her at first sight. But it IS possible that he has a crush on a girl that comes from Space.

GIF Credit: @winterswake @dennismitchell - Omgosh, I have a brain like a sive! But I remembered to tag you this time, sweetie! 😘😘 @morganadarkladyofall

#Keller x OC #Director Keller #Keller #Talos #Captain Marvel #Shes my supernova #She's HIS supernova!!!#Same damn nickname but of course it is #Keller is SO super important to me...#He's just...#I love him. and i LOVE him with her #She deserves him. But I don't think she think SHE deserves him #genuinely the worst piece of posting editing ever #I can’t even look!#45 #Maliyah #so embarrassed I can’t even tag Ben...

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 5 years

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Chapter 9 of my Carry On Big Bang fic is posted! Chapter title from the Social Distortion song Story of My Life. Read it at AO3.

Chapter Nine: Story of My Life

Baz

The letter, when it arrives, looks out of place among the scatter of bills, circulars and junk mail that usually fills Simon and Bunce’s mail bin.

This particular day had started just like any of the other languid, comfortable ones before it had. Waking up to Simon in my arms, indulging in some early morning distractions, sitting together for our morning tea in the sunny kitchen.

It’s blessedly domestic and I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with myself when Bunce returns.

I’d raced home after meeting with my advisor. I suppose it’s odd that I refer to Simon’s flat as home, when I’ve got my own place. Well, not actually my own flat. Although with as much as Fiona travels I may as well be living alone.

But her place doesn’t feel like home. Even after all this time.

Simon’s does. It’s got all the essentials that make it that way—the scent of food cooking, the lumpy sofa, piles of dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom, the medicinal scent of Simon’s soap.

And Simon himself. All the details that take me back to Watford and that simultaneously reinforce where we are now.

Fiona’s place just holds the persistent odor of nicotine, greasy kebabs and Earl Grey.

I’m humming as I take the stairs up to Simon’s and my choice of song makes me realize I have truly become a cliché.

I don’t care. Fuck clichés. There was a time when the only cliché I thought I’d manage was becoming a dead vampire.

Humming Robert Smith’s lyrics on a Friday afternoon seems a far better outcome.

I burst into Simon’s flat and find him on the sofa. That’s not particularly unusual for this time of day but his expression is. I’ve not seen an approximation of his thousand-yard stare for months and it unnerves me.

“Hello, love.” I drop my bag and sink down on the sofa next to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. I find his hand and feel his fingers grip mine as I lean into him.

I know better than to push when Simon’s like this. I just hold his hand while my eyes dart around at the flat; looking at him, at the untidy stack of books nearby, the pile of mail on the table.

And that’s when I see it. The thick, cream-colored envelope with precise lettering on the front, addressed to Simon.

With a return address in Wales.

I only know one person from Wales. And that person is dead.

I squeeze Simon’s fingers and then slip my hand out of his to wrap it around him and pull him closer. He leans into me, head dropping to rest on my shoulder.

“You’ve not opened it, then?” My voice is low.

He shakes his head. “Didn’t want to do it alone. Dunno who it’s from or what it’s about.” He swallows and turns his face into my neck. “I don’t know anyone from Wales except . . .” He trails off.

“You don’t have to open it right now.” I’m dreadfully curious about the contents but it also makes me uneasy.

The fact that the return address is for a solicitor’s office does nothing to dampen my concern.

The past few months have been so much better. Uni’s taken Simon’s mind off all the misery and he found a focus in his coursework this past term that he never had at Watford. It’s been good. The Mage’s death and the whole bloody aftermath of that blasted inquiry devastated him. It just kept reopening the wounds of his loss. We’d finally moved past all that.

And now this.

Right.

He doesn’t have to open it now but I know Simon. He’ll brood on it if he doesn’t. The unknown is worse than whatever that letter holds.

“Do you want me to open it, love?”

Simon goes rigid for a moment but then he sits up, jaw jutted out and eyebrows lowered. I know that look. My heart squeezes because I know him. He’s never one to back down on anything. “No. I should do it.” He leans forward and picks up the letter, holding it gingerly in front of him. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

He flips it over and rips the back open, sliding a sheaf of papers out. I lean over to skim the cover letter as he reads it. His hand is shaking.

“ ‘Sole beneficiary?’ What the bloody hell does that mean?” he mutters. “ ‘The bequest includes all tangible personal property, real estate and such items maintained on aforementioned property, as well as all personal effects including items until recently held at the Watford School and that were acquired by the decedent during his tenure as Headmaster at that facility.’ Baz, what the fuck does this all mean?” He thrusts the letter at me.

I take the cover letter and scan it quickly, riffling through the document that accompanies it.

Fuck. It’s the Mage’s will.

Fuck.

I read over the letter one more time. “He might not have gone through the paperwork to officially adopt you, Simon, but it seems the Mage made you his legal heir.” I skim the pages again. “This is a copy of the will. He’s left his entire estate to you.”

There is silence for a moment and then Simon’s head drops into his hands. “I don’t want it.”

It’s too much, too sudden, too overwhelming. It doesn’t surprise me that this is his first reaction.

I put my arms around him and his head drops onto my shoulder once more, his face buried in my neck, his words just a whisper. “I don’t want it, Baz. I don’t want anything to do with him. Not anymore.” His tail wraps around my leg and his wings tremble against my hands.

I run my hands gently up and down his back. “I’ve got you, love. We’ll sort this, never you mind. We’ll sort it.”

I order dinner. I pay the delivery man. I set out the meal, watch Simon pick at the chicken tikka on his plate, do the washing up. I choose a film to watch, endure the silence emanating from him. I know this routine. It’s like all those weekends at Bunce’s in those first months. It chills me to see how easily Simon has slipped back into that state.

It’s later, when we’re in his bedroom, that he comes alive again. Simon’s hands roam over my body, his kisses fast and firm and desperate.

“We don’t have to tonight, Simon.” I whisper it into his hair, as he reaches down to trail his lips along my neck. “It’s alright, love.”

“I want to.” His breath ghosts over my skin, his mouth sliding along my collarbone. “I want this, Baz. I don’t want to think about anything but you.” He tilts his head up to meet my eyes. “And I don’t want you thinking about it either. Not here. Not now.” His jaw clenches. “This is mine. Ours. And it’s bloody well going to stay that way.”

Simon holds himself up above me, makes me reach for his lips. I slip my fingers into his bronze curls as his wings unfurl above us. It’s warm and safe in Simon’s arms, a haven from the outside world.

“I don’t want to think, Baz.” His words hang between us. “Make me stop thinking.”

So, I do.

Simon

Morning comes and for a minute, when I first wake up, it’s like it always is. Me, on Baz’s chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart, my legs tangled up with his, the cool stretch of his body against mine.

Then I remember.

And I get angry. It thrums through me, my pulse quickening, a wave of heat washing over me. I’d be seeing everything edged in red and wavering, if I still had my magic.

But I don’t have it anymore.

Fuck him. Fuck the Mage. Fuck his lies and his prophecies and his bloody Chosen One bullshit. I close my eyes and take a deep breath but I can’t find that place, that internal calmness that’s been so much easier to channel these last few months.

I just feel the rage.

I thought it was over. The whole fucking nightmare of the inquiry, the Coven meetings, the jumble of emotions in the aftermath of it all. I thought I could put it behind me and be done. Move on with my life.

Be Simon Snow. Not the Chosen One. Not a mage. Not anyone’s fucking hero. Just me. The Simon who lives with his best friend and goes to uni and is blissfully in love with a complicated, unfairly attractive man who happens to be the gentlest, least bloodthirsty and most posh fucking vampire in existence.

That Simon. That’s the Simon I want to be.

I don’t want to be the fucking Mage’s Heir again.I know it’s not the same, it doesn’t have the far-reaching ramifications and portents and utter shite it did before but Merlin, I am so fucking sick of those words in relation to me.

In any bloody form.

I had a bad feeling when I saw the envelope. Nothing to do with magic or foresight or any of that rot. Just unnerving. A tingling in my fingers as I picked the letter up, a chill down my spine when I saw that it posted from Wales, the wave of unease at the solicitor’s return address.

Nothing good could be coming out of Wales. Not for me.

I only knew one person from there. And it’s the person I would most like to forget.

I’m still trying to keep my breaths steady but the fury coursing through me is relentless.

He fucked with my life while he was alive. Can he not leave me in fucking peace now that he’s dead? Is that really too much to ask?

I can feel Baz’s breathing pattern shift and then cool fingers run through my hair. Bloody hell. I must have woken him up.

I tilt my head up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

His fingers keep carding through my hair, rasping against my scalp. It’s far more calming than any of the breathing exercises I was half-heartedly attempting moments ago.

Baz is like that. Nothing calms me the way he does. His touch, his voice, that infuriating sardonic tone he has that makes me laugh.

It didn’t always do that. He used to just infuriate me, the jammy bastard.

Not anymore. He’s a cool breeze that soothes my soul now. Not that I tell him that, mind you.

Well, I don’t tell him often. He’d be insufferable if I did, the tit.

“You’re a mouth-breather, Simon. It’s virtually impossible to remain asleep when you are huffing and puffing like that.” His voice is gentle, even if his words aren’t. A finger traces along my jaw. “Are you alright, love?”

I drop my head to rest on Baz’s chest again, letting my breaths slow to match his. “I’m just angry. I thought we were done with all his shite.” I fist the sheet in my hand. “I wanted to be done with him.”

His fingers keep combing through my curls. “I thought so too. But we’ll sort this. I told you.”

“Sorting it means dealing with it, Baz. I don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Baz sighs and shifts a bit. “It seems fairly clear-cut from the letter. Property, personal effects, any and all belongings. What you choose to do with that is up to you, Simon.”

“I don’t want to choose anything. Can’t I just throw the letter away and pretend I never got it?”

He laughs then, a rumble I can feel reverberating through his chest. “You know they’ll keep sending letters, right? You’re the only heir. They made that very clear. ‘Sole beneficiary.’ Trust me, love, they want this sorted as much as you do. Unfinished business on the books is no good for them. They’ll track you down, no matter what, so we may as well deal with it head-on.”

It makes me want to tear my hair out. “I don’t want to deal with it, I told you.”

Baz tugs on my hair to make me look up at him again. “I know you don’t but someone needs to. If for no other reason than to get things in order and let you move on.” His expression is grave as he continues, although his tone is almost tentative. “Do you want me to deal with it, Simon? I can speak to Father, get his input, see what I can manage without you getting dragged down by it all?”

I collapse on his chest. “Yes. Yes. I would be eternally grateful if you just took over the whole sodding thing and left me out of it.”

“I can’t do that, you utter pillock. It’s your inheritance, not mine. You’ll still have to make some decisions, sign papers, likely speak to the solicitors. But I will do whatever I can to minimize your involvement, if that’s truly what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

“Fine. I’ll call Father today, if that’s alright with you.” Baz frowns down at me. “I can talk to him about this, yes? Let him see the documents?”

“Merlin above, Baz, you can give him the bloody documents, for all I care. I trust you and I trust your father.”

He raises one eyebrow and quirks his mouth up. “It still absolutely bloody wrecks me to hear you say things like that, Simon.”

“Well, it’s true, you wanker. I trust you and Penny more than I trust anyone in this world. Your father’s one of the smartest people I know, present company excluded, and he’s far more sensible than you. I’d gladly take his advice on all this legal twaddle.”

That just makes Baz roll his eyes. “It’s not twaddle, you philistine, it’s inheritance law.”

“Call it what you like. But can we be done talking about it? At least until after you call Malcolm?”

The grin that appears on his face is wicked. “I’m going to tell him you finally called him Malcolm. He’ll be absolutely chuffed to hear it.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I did. It feels so awkward calling him that.”

I feel the press of Baz’s lips on my forehead. “You can’t keep calling him Mr. Grimm forever, love.”

I can. I absolutely can keep calling him that.

Although I must say the thought of anyone describing Malcolm Grimm as chuffed is even more awkward than me calling him by his first name.

Then I’m laughing at that thought and Baz gives that fond smile of his that makes my heart beat faster and even though this fucking Mage business and inheritance shite is throwing me off kilter, I’ve got him and he can make anything better, just by being here with me.

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #carry on big bang #next chapter #things are getting interesting

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newlifefori · 5 years

Text

Not all things are B&W. A little story about me.

Roel Williams

The healing process can differentiate depending on how you look at it. It can be meeting a new person that teaches you necessary lessons. It can look like accomplishing the goals you set out for yourself and sometimes it can be the complete opposite. Pure chaos, a total change of everything in front of you. Having everything destroyed and forced to rise again like the phoenix. That, personally, is the healing process, to me. We are all trying to reach the next level or just improve to be the best we can be. We strive to reach our highest potential. And sometimes, when we do not follow our calling, our bodies have a way of letting us know. That is what happened to me a couple years ago.

The street was faintly lit when I left my best friends house. I stumbled a little due to the alcohol circulating through my veins. A night of celebration because in my mind I deserved it. Anyone would after acceptance into the program I was in. I took a couple steps north towards the 7-11 so conveniently placed and open all hours of the night. Ready for anyone to walk in even at 2am. It was a couple blocks away. As I walked, I could see my breath but I didn't feel the drop in temperature until about 5 seconds later. I didn't have my ipod like I usually would so I was observant of the sounds around me. Footsteps walking up is what caught my ear. I turned to the direction of the sound and two males were in proximity. I knew what was going on but they were nice enough to clarify. “Give me all your fuckin shit right now!”. I was staring right into the barrel of a 9mm pistol but I had no signs of intimidation so they acted upon my arrogance. I felt a solid object hit the back of my head with great force. I fell to the ground. When your adrenaline is pumping you don't really feel pain. You kind of just know what's going on with what seems like subtle contact. It was all just a process until someone grabbed my head and slammed it into the cement of a worn down sidewalk forgetting by the city. Blackout.

I was recently accepted into a program that I had an 8-percent chance of getting into. The the program was called YearUp. A year long program that would teach me professional skills as well as technical. 6 months would be schooling and the other 6 months would be the intership at a very big company in the area. YearUp had a very extensive application process. If you happen to make it past the first phase you would be subjected to multiple meetings and interviews regarding your background, financial situation, living conditions, extra curricular activities and much more. It was a very accomplished moment for me. Here I was in a program that promised me a career in Information Technology. A field that is booming here in the pacific northwest. With this opportunity I tried my hardest and put my heart into it. When it began I was off to the races. I was strong in everything. I excelled in all my classes and I even represented the school when they were trying to score grants. I did so well I earned professional of the week the second week I was there. With all this success I thought IT was the thing I wanted to do as a career. After 6 months of being in the program I was finally sent off to my internship. Seattle Children's Hospital: Research Institute. All was well. I had a badge, access to many different buildings, and on the verge of getting hired on. This was the big reason why I felt the need to celebrate.

I felt the grappling of wires around me, in fact in me. I was turned to my side when I finally awoke. I could see that I wasn't in my street clothes, as I could easily slide back to laying in a position where I faced the bright white lights in the ceiling. I focused my eyes as much as I could and I realized I was in the hospital. As I focused my eyes a little more I took a glimpse at the foot of my bed. There I saw my mother Donna with her head down. She looked down and out. I softly called out: “Mom”. The moment she heard the sound of words escape my mouth she jumped up and ran to me, being careful to not put any weight of my frail body. She wrapped her arms around me and cried out: “Honey, please don't ever scare me like that again.”. I tried to comfort her by telling her I'm alright but she continued to hold me. I Couldn't blame her. She saw everything and I just saw the aftermath. A few moments later a male wearing white came in. He had a clipboard so I knew he was the doctor. He asked if he could sit down and talk to me. I said yes. He grabbed a stool and sat next to my bedside. That's when he let me in on what happened. “Roel, we almost lost you bud. But you're getting better now. You were in a coma for about 4 days. You really need to thank your mom because she got you here in due time.” I then looked at my mom and saw that she was starting to tear up again, I grabbed her hand. “We’re going to keep you here for a couple more days so that you can heal up a little more. Get some rest ok.” He proceeded to walk out of the room and then he stopped. He turned around, looked at me and said: “You're strong Roel. Get some rest.”. It was a lot to take in and all the medication didn't help either. I needed some clarification. I turned to my mom and asked her what happened. She said: “Honey when I arrived at your friend's house you were unconscious. So I rushed you to Highline Hospital. When they got you into the ER they told me you were blind in your left eye so they had to transport you to Harborview. When you got here you were still unconscious. They started to operate on you and that's when….” She began to cry. “That's when you...flatlined honey. They resuscitated you and you flatlined another time. They were finally able to stabilize for about five mins and for some reason you flatlined again.” I asked: “Mom? Did I die?” she softly said: “Yes... but you kept fighting honey. You are here now and that's all that matters ok. Just please, don't scare me like that again.” I sat there in disbelief. But I sat there indeed, alive. So, even under the circumstances I was thankful.

When I was finally healthy enough I returned to my internship. It was a drastic change. Every day that I was there I felt like I wasn't supposed to be. I didn't feel fulfilled anymore and that I was wasting my time. Changing printer paper, installing software, taking monitors out of boxes and being around people that seem to be pursuing their dreams, drained me. Just a year prior I had my first keynote speech in front of a crowd of 500 people. I raised up a lot of money for the people that needed it. I felt like I could fly. Being in front of all those people, telling my story and receiving a standing ovation was the most exhilarating thing I have ever done. That was the vivid daydream I would partake in while I was dealing with people's technical issues.

A week later I had my review regarding my internship. They sat me down and told me that they were really happy with my work as well as my customer service when it came to meeting with people for their computer problems. They also said that they were going to hire me on as soon as the internship ended starting off at about 35/hr. The manager asked: “Well, how do you feel?” I replied: “I actually quit. Thank you for the opportunity but I quit.” Those near death experiences really put my life into perspective. Life can be taken away so quickly, for nothing sometimes. And that forced me to switch my focus to my true calling. To help others find their voice by using mine.

I am a person damaged in many ways. So I will never claim to be fully healed, nor will I ever. I grew up not having a father. I also went through about 16 different foster placements because I lost my mother a day before my 7th birthday. Being 100% will never be an option for me but I can choose to live within the healing process. I believe that I can do that by following my heart and helping as many people as I can. Because of that, I have set many goals to accomplish. On the surface they may seem to only benefit me, but deep down those goals have my community, the world, and the people ingrained within them. A goal I set for myself, that is a part of my healing process was to find stable housing for the first time in my life. People need basics necessities. Food, love, and shelter. Without those you cannot fully start to develop oneself or even begin to think about assisting someone else in the development of themselves. Shelter was always the one that got away. I've only lived in couple homes where the stay was more than a year. Trust was never established because I never knew when I would be forced to up and leave again. So I never put up posters, bought furniture. and I sure in the hell never psychologically settled. It wasn't until a 1 ½ ago that I found a place. I was definitely skeptical about it for months but my roommate and I really connected. I could tell she really cared about me and in the process she became another mother to me. Till this day I am still in that place with a big ol poster in my room. From there, I set a really big goal for myself. To earn an opportunity to have a second keynote speech. I had one a couple years ago advocating for the foster care system and the homeless community. I wanted to do it again. I wanted to see how much more I could help my community just by using my voice. And I wanted to know for sure that giving up that job wasn't in vain. I prayed and prayed, worked hard and one day I got an email from someone claiming they had an opportunity for me. It happen to be an event coordinator speaking on behalf of this organization called Amara. Amara is an agency that promotes adoption of Foster children. They also provide resources to any youth transitioning into Foster Care. She asked me to be the keynote speaker of their event. I said: “Yes! Of course! I gladly accept” I knew then the universe was listening to my wishes and that I was on the right path. This meant the world to me because by using my voice and my story, I raised $432,000.00 for Foster Children. Kids that don't know the power of their voice, yet. Then I set a main goal back in April. It was to get back into college. With all the good things that have come from public speaking my dream revealed itself. I want to be a world renowned public speaker that changes the world in a positive way. I know that college is the first step, so here I am, pursuing my dream. And looking back, I can only be thankful for the events that occurred because without them, I wouldn't be where I am today.

I know that “Healing” doesn't occur overnight and sometimes even years. It is up to you to define what healing means and what is needed to be done in order to accomplish that. I also know that there are some things you can't fully heal. Traumas, terrible things you've seen and things you've dealt with. There is no remedy or cure for that. It just becomes fuel that, if you let it, will launch you to the end goal. Personally, I define my healing as trying my hardest to better myself and the lives of people around me. I believe that, it will be the key that unlocks the door to a place where I feel content with what's happened and what is happening. Overall, I believe in my heart, that we are all here to help one another. We’re not here to take what we can take, but here to give all that we can give. That's how I think you heal. You recover when you assist someone along the road of healing. Even if you're there for just a moment or a glimpse in time. Whether it's a smile you put on someone's face or a simple “Hello” that makes the forgotten feel remembered. You are helping someone get through the healing process. And when you do, you are also helping yourself get through it as well.

#personal #life #determination #nevergiveup #short story #seattle #home

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lore-a-lie · 6 years

Text

Chapter 3, Act 6: Our True Selves...

Daily Life

When Kaede woke up the next morning she noticed a tablet on her table, much like the ones from the second motive. But the frame was different, and not like the standard Monokuma tablets either.

The new motive sitting before her parodied the black and white she was used to with tones of sepia, nearly wood-like shades of brown from a cream to a dark umber. Smooth as piano’s cover, with accents of a bright green wherever Monokuma’s would have a red of the same intensity.

She considered waiting until later to view it, but worries about how badly the motive videos turned out quickly drowned out the idea. So, like Angie had pointed out that dreadful night, Kaede chose to risk seeing it by herself first, to see what she’d be dealing with.

But as soon as she started it up the tablet fell from her hands as the world fell out from under her. She was looking at a face she knew all too well.

“Number 42. My name is %@^#^ @%@^@!$*, and if I’m selected I’ll definitely make for a memorable run no matter what role you put me in!”

Kaede could only stare dumbly at her smiling face giving this introduction, the tablet thankfully saved by landing on her bed rather than the floor. But as she continued to watch she couldn’t help but wish it had broken instead, regardless of any consequences she might have faced for it.

“I’m perfect for a Killing Game, I don’t have any faith in humanity,” the girl in an unfamiliar navy sailor suit went on. “That’s what you’re looking for, aren’t you? I can fake an innocent facade easily, and if you wanted me to play a part like Sayaka or Sonia I’d absolutely nail it.”

Huh? What is she talking about?! I’m not- I wouldn’t ever want to be a part of this! And no, that’s wrong! Right? I mean… Maybe not in humanity as a whole, but I like to think I believe in others well enough. I mean if I didn’t then… Then all of these murders and betrayals wouldn’t have hurt so much, right?

“You’ll make tons from merch of me, even if I’m not the one with the best rack. Which let’s be real, I probably am. You have nooo idea how pumped I was to learn I matched the Junko Enoshima in that department!- Ahem, sorry got a bit off topic I guess.” She continued with a bit of a blush at her overzealousness.

Junko Enoshima, first death of the first file found in Shuichi’s lab. So “Sayaka” should mean “Sayaka Maizono” from that file’s first case and Sonia should be “Sonia Nevermind” from the second file right? Nice girls on the surface, but only because those pretty facades were needed for their Ultimate talents.

“What I mean is, guys claim to “fall” for me all the time, as if any of them could ever really mean it. So I definitely know I have the looks to knock ‘em dead in more ways than one. It makes things waaay easier for me too, all it takes is a pout or smile and they practically start begging me to play them like a violin.”

Real or a lie, the things she was hearing was making Kaede’s blood freeze. She didn’t have any memories that lined up to what her living echo was referring to, but she couldn’t be sure that meant this was fake. Even if it was, seeing herself brag about being such a callous manipulator made her question herself more than she’d like to admit. (Is this part of why I could bond with Kokichi? Why everyone trusts me?)

“Speaking of, I’m pretty good at piano, so a musical talent would be a pretty good match for me. Not like Sayaka, Ibuki, Ami, or Yumi you know, just like a focus on a particular instrument. Could make for a good “conductor” pun too, depending on how I’m used~” She winked at the camera for emphasis.

Well, that doesn’t sound good. And more names from other files. But if this is true then what does this mean about my memories of my family? Is everything I remember a simulation to “get” this talent? … Is my Ultimate Talent even really mine? Where else did it come from? How could this me “choose” it? If you could be given talents why would they still matter so much?! What does any of this mean!?

“I’ll show you I have what it takes to win this. Just you wait.” Her living shadow finished with a grin.

And with that the other Kaede Akamatsu faded from the screen, leaving the real Kaede with only a black mirror and her own thoughts. Thoughts that couldn’t stop racing and refused to make any sense as they rushed after any and all possibilities, regardless of how contrary the theories that came up could be.

Kaede’s head ached in the aftermath, and she hoped she wasn’t the only one to have watched their tablet. She needed to have someone to share what she saw with, anyone who could help her make sense of it.

Even as a motive it didn’t make sense at a glance. If it was true, and it proved even her childhood memories could be flawed or compromised, what reason would she have to leave anymore?

So much of it was about pianos, and how it affected her relationship with her parents, her sister, her friends… If being a “piano freak” wasn’t true then what in her life was? What was there to go home to?

But Kaede couldn’t afford to think like that. She had more than herself to consider now. Her friends had lost too much for her to lose faith in escaping this hell. There were no better options.

So, regardless of if the words were fact or fiction, Kaede resolved to prove her other’s words true.

She’d show whoever the sick bastard yanking them around was that she and her friends would beat them.

They had to be getting close to the truth to get a message like this, so at odds with what they seemed to know. Which meant they’re almost there. So she couldn’t let anyone give up just yet.

Kaito nearly missed the screen sitting in his room as he got ready to head to breakfast. Considering the aftermath of the previous “video” motive, he almost ignored it and headed out anyway.

Alas, his curiosity got the best of him.

He took a seat on his little-used chair and turned on the odd brown framed device, bracing for an emotional impact. But the only feeling he got from the footage was confusion, so that hadn’t helped.

Seeing himself looking so confident and arrogant while standing in some sort of gym, wearing clothing he didn’t recognize from any previous memories, nearly made him lose focus and miss what was said. But only nearly.

“Number 343, #@!^* #*#*^@ here! So let me give you guys the low down, listen up and listen good! I’m not just gonna be IN Dangan Ronpa, I’m gonna kill EVERYBODY and win!”

Oh Jesus fucking Christ, talk about whiplash. I mean, what the fuck is he talking about? “Dangan Ronpa”? Is THAT what this fucking game thing is called?! Who the hell do you think you are?! Are you me???

“Yeah, yeah I can hear ya’ll bitchin’ already. “But #@!^*, what about the other contestants? You can’t just wreck their shit like that, you’ll take all the fun outta it if you don’t go a little easy on ‘em.” right?” The bastard mocked whoever he was expecting to complain with a terrible falsetto.

Oh my God since when was I such an asshole?! I mean if it looks like me, and sounds like me, it’s gotta be… wait. Holy shit do I have an evil twin? Or some sort of clone? I FUCKING KNEW IT WAS POSSIBLE! POP LIED TO ME!

“Already got it covered, don’t worry. Just leave everything to me! Make me the mastermind or not, doesn’t matter. I’ll be the badass Izuru DR0 offered us and DR3 screwed us outta seeing in action. Total party kill, no need for a fucking trial. ‘Cause there won’t be bodies to find when I’m through with ‘em.”

… Ya know what? New plan. After I get to space I’ll volunteer to be the first man to be sent back through time, with the sole purpose of punching this fucker’s lights out on the off chance it is a past me.

“Only exception I’m making is if some pretty lil’ thing gets my ignition going. Don’t matter how scared shitless they are, with the dough we’d be rolling in all thanks to me. And with that fame, it’d be easy enough to trade her out with some other sweet little honey if she gets too scream-y or squeamish when she finds out about the truth behind her “heroic knight”. After all, ironic talents are the fuckin’ best.”

So this is what it feels like to be angry enough to murder somebody. Fuck, I feel sick. God, I hope it’s not my symptoms acting up again, this room would already give anyone with some luminol the wrong idea.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the red shirts have their time to show off a little. And nobody, and I mean nobody, is gonna see me coming. Trust me, this is one star you’ll never regret investing in!”

Boy, there’s a lotta bullshit to unpack here. Assuming any of this is true at all, which it probably isn’t. What am I thinking “probably”, It can’t be! And not just because I don’t WANT to believe it either, no matter what Kokichi or the others would like to tease me about. It just genuinely can’t.

I could never be a rising star. I’m a dying one.

There’s no benefit to giving someone a fatal illness if they were willing to sign up for this. It’s not cost effective, simple as that. Even for the “drama” potential if this was a show it just doesn’t make sense.

Unless it was maybe to spite this guy for being such an asshole? Or someone close to him/me if it’s personal? But still, why sink resources into “natural” ways to kill people for a sick killing game show?

Maybe it could be left over from a previous “kill or be killed” motive. MAYBE. Or just to make the flashback videos feel more “real”? Assuming the audience already knows about my condition. I mean I'm not sure how you could hide it from them, since even our rooms gotta be bugged or somethin.

Kaito furiously scratched his head as he leaned forward in hopes of quelling what was hopefully bile rising in his throat. Even if it might not have done his lungs any favors either, much less his stomach. But goddamn if vomit doesn’t seem more “normal” and appealing than that recurring sick taste of iron.

If it’s to help the “setting’s” verisimilitude then why use this motive at all?! Could be a sign that this “audition” is the only thing here that’s been scripted? Except again, they’d know I’d never buy it!

It can’t give me any “false hope”, my body’s giving out too much. I know I don’t have time left. And if I was sick before auditioning, and that was real, then why wouldn’t “I” have pointed out why I needed the money? Did he worry it would be more a hindrance to getting picked? Is that why he wanted “fame”?

No. Even if that bastard was gunning for a quick game in order to get his blood money in time to save himself this isn’t me. They could have swapped him out, but I’m still here despite being on a time limit.

So let’s just focus on the bright side. People are watching this, hopefully some more normal than this implies. Can’t really hope for “most” folks watching a snuff series to be any better than that, can I?

This sick son of a bitch won’t be the “Kaito Momota” that people remember. I am. Hell, this freak might not even have that much in common with “me”, who knows what name was censored for this stunt. Still!

No matter what this place takes from me I’m always me. I’m the Luminary of the Stars that will live on even after this body of mine dies! Watchers know full well the kind of man I am! Hopefully I’m encouraging at least some of them to be the best they can be. Examples to look up to are important. Ideals are important.

I can die here knowing I did my best to live up to mine. Knowing I tried to help everyone else here live the best they could. It’s a man’s duty to help and encourage those around him. To go as far as he’s able to, and enable others to do the same.

Nothing’s changed for me because of this. Maybe I should count myself lucky for that. I don’t need it.

I can’t say the same for everyone else. I don’t know how much messages like this could help or hurt them. Could really help Ryoma, or destroy someone like Kiyo. Those rooted in their “pasts” are at the highest risk here.

I can still be a constant for anyone who needs one for as long as my health can hold out. And if it’s not as long as I’d like it to be, Kaede’ll be there too. She’s strong, there’s no way this motive could break her.

Not with a sidekick like Kokichi to help support her. Not with how much everyone cares about her.

Kaito smiled to himself as he nodded as a show of resolve to the viewers at home. Not that they’d know what he was thinking, but he’d figure it’d be obvious he made his own peace with his conclusions.

He almost considered taking a page out of Kokichi’s book, to look for a camera and even give a little speech to the empty room and hope to god he doesn’t just come across like an idiot. Again. (God, Maki will give me so much shit for that next time I see her. I can practically hear her sniping at me already.)

Instead, he just decided to head to the cafeteria and hope he wasn’t too much later than normal. It’d be pretty embarrassing to be the last one there over something like this. Shouldn’t make any of them worry, he thought.

Schedules help keep people from panicking, and any amount of normalcy helps endure insanity like this.

Besides, it’s not like there was any other way he’d like to spend the rest of his time than how he has been.

Despite his previous experience, the second Ryoma saw a new tablet before him he wasted no time to turn it on. Though as it played he reconsidered his decision, in case it was trying to trigger him again.

But at least this time the contents seemed promising from the get-go. He was wearing some sort of suit. Possibly a blazer style school uniform based on the crooked red tie and what was unmistakably a gym floor behind him.

And most importantly the version of him looking at the camera had nothing but determination in his eyes. A far cry from the ones he had now. And this Ryoma’s first words only sweetened the deal.

“Number 21. My name is &%*#@ #*$#! and I’m auditioning for this game because I know someone important to me is.”

There it was. “Important to him”. Whoever this was, even if it was only an actor, they suggested there might be something left for Ryoma outside the dome he was trapped in. Something beyond prison.

But still, I can’t let myself get my hopes up. This could just be baiting me so that pulling the rug out from under me again will hit as hard as Monokuma wants it to. The second things could start going downhill I’ll stop. Watching this whole thing could be a deadly mistake if videos can really “rewrite” who we are.

“I’m not expecting that to affect either of our chances of getting in too much, since it’s not like the audience would know about us unless you wanted them to, I just couldn’t stand by knowing she was going into this alone. I’m well aware of all the risks here. Just like I’m aware my odds of getting in, either with her or in her place, are probably a little higher because of my look. Gotta have a joke entry, yeah?”

“Joke entry” huh? So what, could my depression be something whoever’s behind this “game” forced on me in hopes I’d be an early death? All things considered, it nearly worked. If they can rewrite memories other forms of brain manipulation might not be so far fetched. Thank god for the idiots that saved me.

Or heck, I’ll even thank “Atua” if it’ll make Angie have a more natural smile for a change. I’m really lucky I got stuck with all of these clingy weirdos. Even the ones I could do without by this point.

“I know my folks’ll be horrified when they find out about this, but honestly? I don’t give a fuck. ‘Least they won’t need to find out I asked for it. Unless the stuff they say on the net about you “kidnapping” potential players for the sake of plausible deniability is a load of crap I guess. Either way, it’s better than the alternative, and if I die then it’ll be my own damn fault. ‘S not like I was able to talk her out of this.”

And that’s all Ryoma needed to hear to turn the video off. He was almost surprised it worked, since Monokuma seemed like the type who’d rig one of these so that if you tried to stop it it’d continue just to spite you. But he wasn’t going to complain or question it. He was more bothered by how numb he felt.

It didn’t matter if anything this motive said was true or not. It was enough. More than enough.

It was everything he had been hoping for the first time the motive videos were announced.

He did have people who cared about him outside of this hell after all. People he could come home to. Hell, the way this was claiming it was an “audition” and that his connection to… Whatever that girl was to him, could be missed by outside “viewers” like he hadn’t killed anybody before entering this game. Just like Angie said about Korekiyo. (But unlike that bastard if I haven’t before I still haven’t now. Maki’s still all his fault even without Kirumi's blood on his hands.)

Girlfriend, sister, crush, or whatever she was, she could even still be out there waiting for him. (Or she might be stuck in here with me. Could be dead already if she was. There’s no way to know for sure yet.)

He didn’t know if the burning ache in his chest was worry, anxiety, or a twisted sense of relief, he only recognized the hope this gave him. Regardless, it was probably a good sign that stopping where he did was a good call for now. No way to know if any of this was true in here, but false hope was better than none.

But if he really hadn’t killed all of those people, if he hadn’t spent so long rotting in jail, if his life wasn’t worth any less than the innocent victims trapped in this cage with him, he wasn’t sure what to feel now.

Should he be any more comfortable with the idea of someone else dying if he could give everything to save them? Would the people who destroyed his self-worth and years worth of his memories pay for this?

Would he ever be able to be normal or “happy”, or were even those memories of better times a lie?

Would whoever still loved him forgive him for everything he’d done? Was he still who they’d want to see?

Did that mean the years of suffering he remembers really meant nothing? That he can’t at least know that while he did the unforgivable over a hundred times over he didn’t even save future victims from the monsters he put in the ground? And where would that leave Maki and her “true enemy”? Or his own?

For now he tried to ignore these questions the best he could. Like how he’d clear his head before a match, if any of that were ever true. Maybe watching more of his video later would elaborate on that.

But Ryoma didn’t need to do that yet. He just had to bring this with him when he went to get breakfast, same as always. If everyone got messages like this then trading notes could be important, and if Kokichi was still paranoid about motives rewriting personalities then not seeing all of his own could be a benefit.

He doubted Kaede’d ever want to see them all together again, but having someone with him would be nice if he tried to continue this video later. Nice to know, or be able to think, he could be worthy of that. Of having friends without his demons whispering all the ways they were wrong to think he was decent.

He couldn’t afford to think like that too much though. He needed to stay focused on his goals. To get his friends out of this alive. To keep Korekiyo from hurting anyone else ever again. And now, to return to his family.

To his parents. People who wouldn’t be ashamed to share his name. Who wouldn’t be looked down on because they raised a murderer. Ryoma couldn’t even remember the last time he was able to see them.

Finding out about the girl that meant more to him than the world could come later. Would come later.

For now, he’d just need to take things as they came. And that meant being prepared to help his friends should any of their videos had worse implications for them than his did.

After all the support he’d gotten from them, it was the least he could do.

When Gonta saw the tablet when he woke up he hadn’t known what to do at first. Angie had told him the motive videos were bad, and the way they had corrupted Kirumi and Korekiyo before was proof of that.

But Kokichi told him it had been for the best that they watched it together, to make brainwashing them less likely than had they seen them alone. And Kokichi had been right more often than Atua had so far. Atua's rules did nothing to save people, but Kokichi's attempts failing at least had human error to defend it.

He could take this straight to Kokichi, to see if he thought watching it together would be a good idea, but he didn’t want to burden his friend any more than he had to. So much of the Killing Game Busters’ work was already resting on Kokichi’s small shoulders just because Gonta wasn’t smart enough to support him.

Kokichi’d never phrase it like that, Gonta was sure. He and Korekiyo liked to say it was a confidence thing instead, since that would be easier for Gonta to fix. But Gonta knew the truth. It was kind of them to lie.

Still, Gonta chose to try and take this burden for himself for now. If the video seemed dangerous he could always turn it off, and if it wasn’t then he could at least try to offer some ideas of his own when he took this to Kokichi to see what in the motive video could be useful.

“Number 156, @*^^@ @*%^#@$@. Let’s cut to the chase,” yet another Gonta said from the other side of the screen. Unlike Kibo’s Mini-Gonta this one looked a lot more like himself, but something felt far more wrong with this one. While it’s easy for intent to get lost when filmed this person’s angry aura was unmistakable. And as uncomfortable as the young man’s uniform looked on him, done up so tight it looked like it could rip and send buttons flying at any moment, Gonta suspected that wasn’t it.

But still why there so many Gontas now? Gonta should be the only Gonta! Unless new Gonta wants to be police Gonta, it be cool if Gonta had twin like that. Like Kaede has twin Kaede. But if new Gontas don’t stop coming, friends might get me-Gonta confused with a not-friend-Gonta! No one want that!

“This is Dangan Ronpa, you’re gonna need at least one guy built like me.” He flexed a bit for emphasis, tearing at some of the seams of his ill-fitting jacket. “I want in. And I’m no softy, got that?”

Hmm. That no sound right. This is very different Gonta, because Gonta definitely softy. Lots of friends tell him so, soft like the squishy fuzzy larva of the Pyrrharctia isabella!... That kinda got confused when making itself a chrysalis to go from woolybear to tiger moth, making it a bit too scary looking. But Kokichi say that still cool! Like a beary-bear mixed with a teddy-bear, perfect for protecting kids!

… Why did Kokichi keep laughing whenever Gonta call himself a bear anyway?

“Viewers always think the big guys are soft and sweet. This time they’ll be wrong.”

Viewers sound like smart people, that is exactly how real Gonta is! Sorry not-soft-Gonta is misjudged.

“I’ll crush them. Those expectations, those hopes, and these participants. I’ll squash them all like bugs.”

… huh?

Squashing… Bugs?

Hurting people?

HOW?! WHY?!

WHY MONSTER LOOK LIKE GONTA?!

“Speaking of bugs, that’s my talent. Don’t care how, but I want bugs. Spiders, centipedes, scorpions, killer bees, fire ants, dung beetles, cockroaches, every creepiest crawly you got.” Not-Gonta smiled, but the expression looked foreign on his face. Not at all like Gonta’s smiles, there was far too much malice to be seen there and there was little doubt that feeling was genuine. Like a predator toying with its prey. “Nature’s perfect little machines. Optimized for everything. Always knowing their place and keeping things going without any complaints.”

I don’t understand. I-I can’t understand! What’s “Dangan Ronpa”? Who is this person?! He’s a terse talker, but his grasp on this language is leagues better than mine. It can't be someone pretending to be me, can it? It'd have to be another Ultimate or something if he was, and not even Tsumugi could manage this I think.

But... It doesn't feel like someone else. He sounds like how I feel when I get too riled up, but that... That can't be right. Emotions don't define how people are! How you handle them is, and I always try to keep control of mine. Even when it gets hard. Because that's what a gentleman should do, to BE a gentle man.

How can he claim that he has a bug talent and want bugs to care for when he doesn’t CARE about them?! Even Korekiyo genuinely loves his studies! This is more like… Like he just likes having power over them. That… That can’t be “love”, right?

What is any of this supposed to mean?

“Guess that’s all I gotta say. So see ya.”

Gonta didn’t know how long it was he sat there, trying to dry his eyes and rationalize what he saw.

All he knew was that he just couldn’t do it. Nothing about it made any sense to him, no matter how hard he tried to process it. He wasn’t smart enough to understand what sort of motive this was.

But Kokichi would be. He always is!

So that’s where he headed, as fast as his legs could carry him.

As the video came to life Kokichi wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was a video of him, obviously, but he was wearing some school uniform he’d never seen before in his life and he was talking up at a camera in a gym or something. The him on the screen felt different though. Nervous. Scared.

He had a bit of a false start at his introduction, but after yelling at some kids who started chanting “Do it, do it!” off-screen to shut up he seemed to get his bearings. Well, he got them better at least.

“N-Number 413. H-hello, my name is #*#!@#! *%^ and I’m only doing this because SOMEONE won’t stop bugging me about it! I-I’m not doing it because I love the show or anything, really.”

… Oh my god. LOOK AT THIS THING! WHAT EVEN IS THIS? IT’S LIKE A LIL’ BABBY BIZARRO ME! Is he even like honestly trying to lie right now? He’s soooo pathetic I can’t even.

“But… Um… Since I am auditioning I would still really want to get in ya’know? J-just for the screen time and the money and stuff! I mean just look at this cute face, audiences would love me!”

Okay, confirming what we already know, assuming this has any truth to it. Which it probably does, since those guys off screen were obviously my guys from D.I.C.E., I’d know those voices anywhere. Finding one sound-a-like might be possible, but nine? Not a chance.

“I can toootally play like the adorable funny best friend sidekick character, and if the theme of this season is going to be “truth vs. lies” I’d be great at that! I’ve always loooved the theatrical mysterious liars in previous seasons, like Nagito and Celeste. Though, I’d rather not be a murderer if I can help it.”

… Yeeeeah, hate to break it to you kiddo but I don’t really think that’s me. Except for the no killing, that’s still me so no worries there. Unless Kaede’s our actual protagonist instead of Discount Kamina or Captain Kibble, in which case maaaybe I could come across like that? Oh fuck wait, did I make myself the sassy gay best friend character type?! I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS! I TAKE IT ALL BACK, I DEMAND RESHOOTS!

“I-I mean… It’d be way too easy to win a killing game like that right? Where’s the fun in that?”

… Not sure I’m okay where this is heading, why’re we going to Joker town? There IS no “fun” in here!

“As far as talents go… Uh… I kinda sorta maybe have kleptomania so Ultimate Thief would be a good fit I think. But I’m practically king of our school’s chess club- God wait, fuck that sounds so fucking nerdy why’d I say that- W-well I mean it’s still true! So Ultimate Chessmaster could also work I guess? Since I’m pretty sure the Ultimate Lucky/Unlucky kids have been waaay overdone. Even if my name would work well for that pun.” He nervously shifted his weight from side to side as if trying to think about how to say what he was really after as a part of this “role”.

Nuh-uh, not being taken in by how adorably dorky you are, you can’t make me fall for my own act kid. You showed your hand, so what’s the fucking catch?

...Ayyy, wait a sec. Mister editor might've missed something here."Kokichi" can be a luck pun, and with my height being a "little lucky" would fit like a dream. So much for censoring "my" name, unless they only kept the reference here because the one I have now still worked for it.

Still, food for thought. They might have scrambled the audition names just to make us extra paranoid.

“Buuuut Ultimate Chessmaster might be a bit too on the nose though if I’m allowed to try for our season’s mastermind spot or anything though, you know? Er, only if that’s okay to ask for at all!”

what

“I-I mean wouldn’t that be a fun twist?! And being a victim would still be totes okay too, or I could fake my death like Junko did after really pulling at the audience's heartstrings by being so lovable all the time.”

This isn’t funny anymore fucko

“I mean I get it if that spot has certain limits applied to it, like duh they’re THE big bad, but I think I could pull it off! But I’d definitely wanna be a REAL mastermind, not some wannabe with amnesia like Hajime was. Well Izuru, same thing. The sort that’s hidden in plain sight that reeeeally makes you wanna rewatch it all again to see what sorta crafty bastard they’ve really been this whole time you know?!”

No. No no no no no. Non. Nein. Nada. Niet. Nope. This isn’t fucking funny you sick fucks!

But it’s also not a lie. He was completely and utterly honest about his intentions. Unless somehow that person could hide what a great liar he is as a fake out or he really isn’t me on some level.

That’s really unlikely though. It’s hard to fake tells without being too obvious, even I have trouble with it. And he definitely had my tremors whenever he starts getting nervous. This has to be real. It’s gotta be.

Kokichi clasped his hands in front of his face as he tried to control his breathing. He tried to process what this motive was trying to tell him as the “audition” ended. God he’s lucky they didn’t watch these things as a group like the first batch of motive videos, he’d be sooo dead. Unless he’s not the only one.

On the plus side this did give some clues about things, assuming any of it can be true. Which… It probably was. Or more of this setting was faker than he thought, since he knew those voices. But it COULDN’T be faker than he thought, Kiyo and his weird deal with his sister proved that already! Unless there’s some way to fake a guy magically growing and losing boobs on a dime that he doesn’t know about yet. (If it does exist I’m not sure if I want to slap the person responsible for being gross or shake their hand for it having both practical and hilarious potential. Maybe I’d just high five them while wearing a joy buzzer.)

This is some sort of show or game. People know about it and like it enough to willingly sign up for this shit. They might not know how real this is though, they might think it’s like reality TV or something. Hopefully that’s what they think it is, and they’re not talking like deep web red room shit or anything like that.

Masterminds change for each game, or this “season” with how he mentioned rewatching it like that, or at least this one needed to have someone new take the reigns. Some previous masterminds are people named “Junko” and “Izuru”, though the latter played in his or her game as “Hajime”. Deaths in this game can be faked, or they could in previous seasons. Memory alteration has also appeared in past games.

Wait. Hajime? As in Hajime Hinata? From the second of the 52 case files. Are these things acting as the motives now just because Shuichi’s lab already touched on some of this information? Interesting. There might have been a Junko in the first too, but if she was a mastermind that data was expunged. Izuru definitely didn’t come up in the second or sidenotes, so that could be standard procedure. Moving on.

“Talents” are a part of this game, so the Ultimate Hunt stuff was probably just this season’s “backstory”. This likely tied into how the flashback lights work. But flashback lights can’t completely change who you are, even if they can mess with most of you. This Kokichi talks like he does, but doesn’t think like him.

How much of these auditions reflect the actual people they used to be is unclear. This Kokichi’s a terrible liar to be certain, and not just in a Holden Caulfield slang sorta way, but these are still just auditions. Everyone has to be prepared to show off some sort of persona if they want to be picked for these things.

… But what can he do with any of this information? He can’t risk showing anyone this video, obviously. Not even Kaede or Gonta. He’s not that stupid. Not unless maybe he can watch theirs first. If everyone “wants” to be the mastermind in these it won’t be so bad. As unlikely as that case may be if they’re real.

If these were faked then of course they’d all claim they wanted to be the bad guy, the star of the show. But in reality, they’d only need so many people gunning to fill a particular niche in the game’s formula. Killers, victims, leads, rivals, survivors, and all the smaller audience grabbing archetypes in between.

At least Kokichi knew what his desired role was. And he knows that’s not who he is anymore. He doesn’t know who the person he was used to be, but they’re “dead” now. Kokichi Oma isn’t, and that person’s not coming back on his watch. He’s not planning on going out without putting on one hell of a show.

One bad enough that this whole goddamn genre would crash and burn.

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#New Danganronpa V3 #ndrv3 #ndrv3 spoilers #drv3 #drv3 spoilers #drv3 fanfiction #fanfic #multi chapter #multi pov #original motive #fan auditions #kaede akamatsu #kaito momota #ryoma hoshi #gonta gokuhara #kokichi ouma #back route

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thegirthquaker · 3 years

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November 21, 2020 [1]

Why I gave up and never looked back actually has to do with what happened on this day. In October, similar time frame, my dog got sick. I nursed her back to health.

I had it with humanity because I was tired of the “spectrum” always going “woe is me that is not my ID”, because they pulled that shit on me. While my dog was sick. “at least you can go outside as yourself”. You mean the me, who has eyesight so bad he’s walked by someone dear to him? I live with regret and guilt daily. I say NOTHING of it, because that’s not what people want. My strength is my silence, if I had to say. Or rather, it’s my weakness because I have strength in my actions. You could say that I have strong silence, which is bad. I never got a response back after saying that, no. I don’t get to do that. I’m aware of my luxuries. Clean water, clean healthy food, plethora of stuff, internet, AC, you name it, I’ve practically got it. Also, it’s not even about me. it’s about people acting special all the god damn time. It’s not about that person whining either. It’s about NEITHER of us.

One asshole gets to play the “bara furry says shit” card. Except I’m not a furry. I never even figured out my lack-of-avatar problem. You know, an artist either has their own face, or some sort of face, right? I do have problems with furries in that I don’t like the drama that’s usually found from them. I’ve had a few incidents, by the by. However, they’re just people. That’s all they are. People are people. The “gender spectrum” allies always get to do this, and I’m fed up with it. You get to treat people like shit, but when they call you out for it, you get a magical shield. That’s what Twitter has. Quite blatantly, it’s all over hurt feelings.

Want to know what I did? I didn’t even call them out for that. I was pointing out other situations in our world, like how doctors have to live with their decisions. Those with a conscious have to know who they let live and who they let die. Identity? How about their ID being “murderer”?

Tell me how it’s not beyond hurt feelings. “Hateful”? It started with me agreeing with a guy calling “them” special snowflakes. The following thread was exactly that; they were talking about themselves as if they had it the absolute worse. One “ally” even tried to refute my “people born without limbs” by acting like you can add prosthetics onto anything. THEY NEED TO BE CONNECTED SOMEHOW. Excuse me? Does it look like our technology can reproduce feeling properly? No. We’re on the way to that. You’d know if you weren’t so ignorant to people’s woes. Trying to play the saint over “identity”? If society needs to reaffirm you so that you may survive, then yes, it is all about being a special snowflake.

Tell me then, why does it matter what letter of the alphabet it is that you want to be? Why does that matter? To make your ilk feel better about yourselves?

I’m not okay with the amount of canceling people can receiving. I call it “canceling” because it’s negativity if not “counter-hate” by the “gender spectrum”.

I don’t know what the hell “gender” is, or what it even “feels” like. I see people as people. Everyone struggles with life. EVERYONE. You know nothing about me, not even introducing yourself, yet you yourself desire identity affirmation by SOCIETY, and try pulling “going outside as yourself”?

You’re the sheep that follows the same society that came up with these constructs of division. Male, female, once you get to them at their root and core, what do you have? What do you have AFTER you do that? The only use it is, is to categorize reproduction. That’s it. I’m not stupid enough to follow societal conventions; I don’t even know what “gay” is. Blanket terms are stupid.

At our core as humans, we’re all bisexual. We failed so badly; we fucked that up, ended up as wusses who can’t face our reality that anyone can be with anyone, and as a result, we’re afraid of invisible labels. Now, no one can be with anyone because they have petty interests and fetishes rather than having an open mind with the idea of “mates”.

John is a man’s name? Who said? I’ll give you a hint. Society. Think about it. Ask the question. Why? Why is it so? How is that the case? Is it WRONG? What is WRONG about it? Why do you believe John can’t be a woman’s name?

I actually have a name commonly used for females. So, uh, yeah. I can choose to change it, or I can choose to keep it. I will, however, acknowledge that either outcome is for my comfort. That’s because it is. It serves absolutely no purpose beyond that. Tell me how it does.

You’re saying this crap to someone who knows the flaw of equality and can see your hypocrisy. Equality is taking into account 8 billion human lives and trillions of animal lives. The same “equality” you get from “BLM”. I saw a re-tweet of “if you’re black” you can get help financially, but if you’re not black, you should “re-tweet or help out people”. So, you’re fine with taking non-black money, but if others do the same, you’ll go all “ACAB” and “blue-lives matter pig”?

Not even 1 million cops to the 300+ million people. We will see rotten cops. The entire movement’s focus was to enforce the law on law enforcement. How does no one remember that? What, you want to excuse your behavior to act like a stereotype? Then when there weren’t any cops in certain places, people still bitched. The aftermath of COVID leaves everyone suffering; why the hell do you get a pass for your “prefix” or “pronoun”, or even “race”? This was all during the heaviest parts of COVID. People were losing their lives and their homes. I spent my time reading hundreds of lives. It was horrible.

All of this is only a factor of giving up. It’s not the whole thing, but it influenced it pretty well. I don’t care if I’m “hateful”. I’ve seen people receive far more “hate” for the most insignificant words than they should have. I’m ignorant, yeah. I’m ignorant to these peoples’ woes because I can’t understand. I don’t need affirmation; I live as myself. I’ve been hated and alone for my entire life. I’ve only got one friend, and even then, that’s a bit... difficult to explain.

I always keep in mind that we’re just people. We’re just humans. There’s so much more to life, so many more lives. I don’t compare woes like that. I will not say I have it worse than others, because realistically, I don’t. They always get to make these assumptions without knowing you. Instead of giving a name or an introduction, you’re given a label.

I don’t see people as labels. Are you gay or are you a person? I don’t need to know your interests because I’m not looking for anything in particular. If you want to talk, we can talk. That’s about it. I can say I’m a nice guy sometimes. I’m a great listener.

I don’t need any name-basis because I know names matter little on the net. Requests? I only need the person’s user-name to contact and respond to, so obviously a handle is needed. But, what connotations do I read into that? Is keithsmith93 really important, or is he really the 93rd keith smith?

Why does that matter? If I know him to be keith, then Keith he is.

However, above all else. You do NOT assume you know anything about a person like that. Especially if you want to “compare lives” because you can always go outside as yourself.

You do not say that shit to someone who has a sick pet. How would they know? Easy. Have some manners and understand that everyone has a different life. There are billions of people who will undoubtedly have it worse than you. Have an open mind and adapt to that fact.

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haikyuu-imagines-blog · 7 years

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Kuroo Tetsurou - Relationship in 5 Steps

∠ words - 3k

∠ genre - fluff

∠ summary - Do you want to know what it's like to be adored by one of Haikyuu!!'s characters? Do you want to know five easy steps they would use to make you theirs? Read to find out.

∠ masterlist

∠ yep, this is a new series, but I won’t post five separate chapters for every character, but just one. I hope you will enjoy, I worked hard for it. It is a piece of my heart - treat it well.

∠ Bokuto Kouratou ver. | Oikawa Tooru ver. | Sawamura Daichi ver. ∠

∠ being noticed

Kuroo closed his eyes, desperately trying to bury the unsettling feeling that welcomed itself into his life a few days ago, on the day when he laid his eyes on you. At first, the sudden attraction had seemed to be just like one of his previous quirks, which were easily forgotten the day after and not remembered since. Although, you surprisingly, were some kind of anomaly, which rooted in his subconscious immediately and didn't exactly want to leave.

He was strangely okay with how the situation was going on, however, the only con was the fact that you didn't know who the hell he was and the plan to get closer to you became ten times more complicated than it already was. Poor Kuroo was so deeply into his little crush, that it was hard for him to sit still with his growing excitement upon seeing you for the first time that day.

He secretly eyed you, giving you silent kudos for the jewelry choice. Your rainbow-shaped earrings made a nice contrast to your official, school uniform and even though, you probably didn't want to stand out of the crowd - to him, you were the only shining star in the room. He couldn't focus on anything, but you the whole time.

Lessons were long and usually boring, so he couldn't help but steal a few glances at you from time to time, cheering happily inside that no one saw his growing obsession with the way you put annoying hairs behind your ear.

''You got it bad, prince charming.'' Scoffed Yaku, turning to face him when the lunch break began.

''I don't have anything.'' He replied smoothly, clearly failing to assure his classmate that he was wrong. ''Does it show that much?'' He quietly asked after a minute of silence between them.

''Yeah, it's almost too obvious to handle.'' They didn't bother to continue their conversation after that.

His time at school was finally moving towards its end and since he didn't have practice later, he could just walk lazily home and then relax with a hot drink and a good movie in the background. His knee was bouncing up and down, aching but still going like crazy and the quick looks he was giving you, became even more frequent and lingering. Not that he minded.

But it was just his luck that in the moment when the last bell in his day rang, signaling long desired freedom, you turned to him catching his curious eyes, which were observing your smaller form. His insides froze along with his limbs and will to live and when he was finally ready to perform seppuku in front of his class - you sent him a big, toothy grin. Then you and waved happily and skipped towards the door like nothing had happened. Like you hadn't made Tetsurou the happiest man alive.

He has been just noticed and it was the best feeling in the whole world.

∠being friends

The black-haired and also very bored Kuroo Tetsurou was aggressively flipping his biology book, giving it no mercy. The colorful pages tore in some places, crumbled or even left the book for eternity. He tried to care about it, he really did. However, it's been ten minutes since the time you had said you would call him and he was slowly going bonkers in his freshly cleaned room. He didn't want to mention that he had already cleaned it five times, trying to pass hours quicker.

Since that memorable day, when you had finally acknowledged his presence, you two have grown closer with each day and now he could proudly admit that you two were friends. Not want he wanted, but more than he expected. Kuroo finally knew much more about you, not only your looks. If he was being honest, he would describe your personality as a very similar to your earrings choices: shiny, funny and that kind, which made you feel good about yourself.

His main hope was that you saw him in a good light too, it was one of his the most important matters. And just when he wanted to dig deeper into the thoughts that kept his brain hostage, the phone laying directly in front of him lit up and let out some famous song. He clumsily took it and hesitated for a mere second before picking up.

''Hi!'' You both yelled at the same time and then laughed loudly at how stupid your behavior was. He relaxed after that and let himself be filled with your lovely voice, swallowing every word as you told him about your day and today's events. His turn to rant came way too quickly, but it didn't stop him from whining about the fight he had with his mum about the habit of not picking up his gym clothes from under his bed and patiently absorbed your advice about the problem.

''I think I'm going to hit the shower now because school is tomorrow and I don't want to be late like last time when we stayed on the line for too long.'' You giggled at the memory and he slightly smiled, preparing for goodbyes.

''Sure, I'm not stopping you.''

''But you kinda want to, right?'' You asked quietly.

''Yeah.'' He heard you sigh from the other side. It was a shame you were so far away, he really wanted to see the emotions on you face in that moment.

''Talk to you tomorrow, Tetsu.'' You said eventually, making loud kissy sounds and eventually hung up, but he didn't register it. There was only one thing he could focus on.

You called him by his given name for the first time and he didn't want to forget how your voice sounded with it on your lips.

∠ asking out

''This movie is shitty.'' You stated seriously, shooting him a glare from your spot on the couch. He only winced and gave you a silly smile in return, already regretting listening to Bokuto. Your eyes went back to the screen, as your hand dived into a bowl full of popcorn.

''Sorry, sorry. I will choose better next time.''

''There won't be next time Tetsurou.'' Unknown words stucked in his throat before they could leave, eyes wandering around the room in disappointment. He couldn't believe you were THAT angry. ''You will never choose a movie again, I swear to God. It's my turn forever, don't even try to argue.'' He nodded in agreement, hoping you didn't see how he breathed out in relief that you weren't really mad.

To be absolutely honest, the movie wasn't all that bad in his opinion, but he wasn't an expert and probably shouldn't be asked about it. Volleyball ate a lot of his time and he preferred to spend the free one with people he loved, so that was it. If they wanted to watch something, that's alright, but it wasn't a frequent request.

However, you seemed to be crazy about it. Some days, you couldn't last more than ten minutes without talking about some new film or actors he has never heard about. Although in exchange, he could talk about his practices, so it was very nice.

And about his dirty, little secret - he was able to control his feelings for you easily now. No one, who already didn't know wouldn't catch on - including you. After the weird incident with the phone call, when you started to call him by his name, he tried to calm himself a little and not behave like a lovestruck idiot. Kuroo would literally kill himself if he made you uncomfortable or repulsed. And also he didn't really have any occasion to give much thought to his infatuation because your birthday was approaching and his gift must be the best one that year.

There was going to be a movie marathon of very old productions, some of them were even black and white. It's streaked his interest immediately and since he didn't hear a word about it from you, he was right to believe that you were simply unaware something like this was happening in your hometown. He has bought two tickets, packed them nicely and waited for a good moment to give it to you. Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, something just had to go wrong.

''Tetsurou, did you tell f/n-chan about these movies or something?'' His mum, who has come back from work five minutes ago, yelled from the other room not realising her mistake. You ears seemed to perk curiously at the newfound information and you quickly sent him a questioning look.realising her mistake. You ears seemed to perk curiously at the newfound information and you quickly sent him a questioning look.

''You gonna tell me about it or what?'' You asked, standing up and sitting closer to him after he didn't respond to your silent plea. He decided to just give up before puppy eyes appear on your face.

''Yhm, I kind of - bought two tickets to movie marathon and was wondering if you wanted to go? I was supposed to your birthday present, but-'' He wildly gestured towards the place him mother was in. ''-this happened.'' You smiled somehow differently, ruffling his already messy hair, making his heart race.

''It's so cute, Tetsu! It's a date then.'' You winked and came back to your previous spot like you just hadn't changed Kuroo's entire life.

But it's a date then, he guessed.

∠ first kiss

'What the hell is wrong with you?'

'I'm just frustrated f/n, I've told you to leave me alone.'

‘'But I don't want to leave you alone in this situation! Please, accept my support!’' He sighed and covered his face with a sweaty hand. His team had been destroyed in today's match and he couldn't do anything to change it. Some of the most important players hadn't attended, because of reasons and this made them almost unable to play. His teammates had fought like hungry animals, but unfortunately, it wasn't enough. The aftermath of the match left him unsatisfied and not easy to communicate with, however, you tried anyway. It was greatly annoying, but he also couldn't help but appreciate your soothing presence.

He drew a deep breath, which seemed a little shaky at the beginning as if he was ready to cry, but quickly collected himself. His now dry palm slowly fell from his face and moved against his will towards your form. You looked uncertain for a second, before enveloping it with your bony fingers and hugging it tightly to your chest, right next to the heart. Kuroo felt its fastened beating and immediately felt guilty for causing you so much stress, especially since you didn't deserve any of thing. You weren't his punching bag, but a person he held deep feelings for.

‘'I'm sorry.’' He whispered, closing his eyes as his shoulders dropped a little.

'’It's okay Tetsu, I understand.'’ Your lips kissed his knuckles and then you cuddled your cheek to the back of his hand, clearly needing comfort and affection. His heart melted at the sight but it didn't erase that swallowing disappointment, which was still following him after the brutal loss he experienced today. You noticed it faster than he anticipated and opened a mouth like you wanted to say something but closed it, deciding not to. Maybe the silence was the best medicine for now.

Half an hour later, the volleyball team was ready to leave and you all headed home. They bluntly ignored the heavy atmosphere between you and Kuroo after your exchange of words and both of you were thankful for it. They didn't need that kind of burden right now. Your relationship, your problem.

Everybody was slowly leaving, going their own ways until finally, you two were alone again. Kuroo didn't utter a single word for a long while and you thought that it would be smart to give him time and wait until he was ready to clear the air between you. Although it was awkward you still held hand as Tetsurou walked you home.

When you arrived, you didn't look at each other not knowing exactly what to do. It was the first time something like this happened and the unsureness of how to behave in such situations was very visible. You obviously still explored one another and the boundaries surrounding you, which obviously could cause some major misunderstandings. However, nothing good came without a little pain and proper fight for it.

‘'So-'’ He started and you in a mere second looked up, staring at his face with such insensitivity your eyes almost fell out. ‘'-are we okay?’' He asked, scratching the back off his head. That gesture always made you smile, because it made his hair even wilder. He was very handsome with that look.

'’Of course, Tetsurou. Nothing bad happened in the first place. This day just sucks.’' You laughed loudly, coming back to yourself after hours of being grumpy and feeling rather out of place.

'’It sure does.’' He repeated after you and your doorstep soon became a place full of giggles and chuckles Kuroo didn't know how desperately he craved for the whole time without them. Things were fine.

‘'I like you very much, you know?’' You said, enveloping his slim neck in a warm hug, which he returned not even a second later.

‘'I really like you, too.'’ He breathed into your ear, before giving it a butterfly kiss. You stayed like that, not leaving the embrace that gave you the security you deserved and absolutely loved.

The way you turned and hopefully will turn Kuroo's world upside down was indescribable. In such short time, you were able to brighten his days without much work. You were incredible. The only one in this universe who had him for every command. He wasn't even ashamed to admit it, more like proud of being stupidly in love.

'’Tetsu?'’

‘'Yeah?'’

‘'Could you close your eyes for a second?’' That whispered question honestly threw him off of guard, you didn't plan on slapping him or something? He kinda liked his face, a lot actually. He would mourn if something terrible happened to it, however, as a good slave, he followed your request.

And waited. And waited. What did you wa--

‘'Ah, screw it.'’ You hissed before something hit him. Right on his lips. Probably your own pair. Warm, plump with flavored lip gloss on it - apples, he dared to guess. He was stunned for a while and before he could react or so much kiss back, you departed from him.

‘'You didn't like it?'’ The hurt expression on your face hit him hard and fast. You totally didn't understand his intentions or rather the fact that he was too frozen to do anything.

'’That's not it! You just surprised me, I didn't expect that’.' He pecked your lips quickly as a sign that everything was more than okay and you relaxed against his body.

'’I'm glad.’' You said and skipped happily to your door. ‘'Good night, Kuroo Tetsurou. Next move is yours to make.’' You shot him a teasing smile and disappeared behind your doors, leaving him to the cold night and lonely streets.

He would never say it to anyone, even himself that the fact you were the one to take the lead turned him on, a lot.

∠ being a couple

''Will you tell me why am I getting a silent treatment?'' The question left his mouth for the third time that week, less angry than before, but more desperate.

Although you gave no answer just like you had done previously, you eventually sent him a tired look and sighed. It was a better response than he expected and it made him satisfied for a little while. Which lasted approximately two minutes.

''Okay, I didn't flirt with anyone, didn't say anything mean, remembered everything important and even bought you food this week!'' His hands fled dramatically to his black hair, tugging it in every direction. ''Am I being to nice to my own girlfriend?!'' Then he dropped to his knees, faking sobs and loud cries.

''I'm not your girlfriend.'' You icy cold voice broke his focus on feeling sorry for himself and he stared at you, suddenly terrified. His hopes and dreams shattered, and pieces of them started swirling in his head, bouncing against the walls and finally falling onto his imagined ground in his mind, defeated.

''Yet.'' You added grimacing, but your eyes shined with amusement upon noticing his small breakdown. ''You've never asked me, baby.'' And with that Kuroo almost laughed, almost.

''You, young lady, need to stop with this stupid, unnecessary breaks between sentences and words, because honestly, they suck and well, they are going to give me a heart attack someday. Thank you very much.'' The Sun was slowly leaving your side of the Earth creating an artwork of the sky. Pinkish and reddish colours reflected on your face, showing him a side of you, he hadn't had a pleasure of meeting. Open windows welcomed warm breeze into your home, which moved your earnings, shaped as sunflowers. You laughed softly and he was one hundred percent sure he was never going to love someone as much as he loved you right in that moment.

His hands, unlike his body, were cold as they made their way to yours. You flinched, but didn't push him and both of you knew there was no turning back. Your eyebrows raised slightly in anticipation, however, you tried your hardest not show how long you've waited for what was to come. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

''S/o, will you do me an honour and--''

''Are you proposing?'' Your mocking voice interrupted. ''Because if you are I have to say no, we are too young, baby.''

''How about you shut up and let me finish?''

''You go, tiger.'' Let's just say that romantic atmosphere has been brutally murdered.

''Okay, you have to be my girlfriend, because I said so and you destroyed my beautiful proposal, so you owe me.'' He said on your breath, smiling. It was the smoothest thing that came out of his mouth, now they can seriously call him a master of love and sex.

''Yeah, sounds great.'' You answered, without much thinking and reached out for a phone. ''So pizza toning or what?''

''Yeah, pizza is good.'' Maybe he was lame, or even you both were. Maybe even your love was lame, but he wouldn't have it any other way. You deserved each other, fought for each other and hopefully will be with each other forever.

(Or at least for the next two hours, because he was broke and someone needed to pay for the pizza)

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maychorian · 7 years

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Weekly Voltron Fics #32

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

A Very Bland Voltron Christmas by genericfanatic Words: 1,367 Author’s Summary: The paladins go shopping for space christmas gifts at the mall. Made in honor of getting 100 followers on my sideblog blandvoltronheadcanons! My Comments: Super cute and fun little fic about the team going back to the mall.

If You Trust Me by yet_intrepid Words: 3,430 (1/?) Author’s Summary: “I’m sorry,” the young man says to her, as they slow to a walk in an empty residential street. He’s dropped her hand; Allura thinks for a moment that she misses the closeness. “I could have gotten you arrested.” “I almost got myself arrested,” Allura points out. “Your apologies are unneeded. Let me offer my thanks instead.” “No,” he insists. “You would have been in worse trouble had you been caught with me. I have—a history.” She looks down at his right arm, ending bluntly before the wrist. “You’re really a thief?” My Comments: Holy crow, I am IN to this. It’s an Aladdin fusion AU with Shiro as the leader of the group of homeless kids and Allura as the princess running away from home, and it works amazingly well. I can’t wait to see what happens next. Shallura.

Hallelujah, You’re Home by tymedfire Words: 4,542 Author’s Summary: It’s been two years. Two years since they’ve felt rain on their faces. Two years since they’ve seen their families, since they’ve spoken to their families. Two years since they really started to learn what war was. Two years since they stopped being teenagers and became soldiers. Two years since they left Earth. Three, for Shiro. But now they’re going back. They’re going home My Comments: This is wonderful, sad but very beautiful. Going home is really hard sometimes. Everyone’s support of Lance was gorgeous, especially Pidge, but everyone.

Surface Tension by Teramina Words: 8,425 Author’s Summary: Companion piece to 2x08, Shiro’s perspective + aftermath My Comments: Really well-written missing scene and alternate perspective for a very important episode. The mutual protectiveness and concern in this relationship always gets at me.

Down Time (Don’t Let Me Down) by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 2,096 (2/?) Author’s Summary: “Hunk smiled, a tint of guilt on his face, and tightened the hose with a final tug. ‘Oh,’ he said. 'I’m winning a game of hide and seek.’” My Comments: I really like this author’s gen stuff, so of course I’m going to read their collection of prompt fills. The first one is some really cute fluff featuring Hunk and Pidge, and the second one is an angsty Shiro character study. You should probably subscribe so you don’t miss any. I did.

Hold these Shattered Pieces of My Heart by WildWolf25 Words: 6,322 Author’s Summary: Those memories seemed so far away; cozy nights holed up in a blanket fort in the living room, lit up only by the glow of the television screen, were a stark contrast from the hell he had been experiencing for the past two years. He wished he erase these past couple of years and go back to the days before the Kerberos mission, back when his biggest problem was trying to beat Katie at rock-paper-scissors to choose which Alien movie to watch first. He wished he could go back to summer barbecues and robotics team competitions and stargazing and looking for UFOs on the hill behind the house. Back when the horrors he witnessed could just be turned off with the press of a button and exchanged for a different movie. Back when he could sleep through the night without waking up in a cold sweat with a racing heart and fear running through his veins; back before a time where waking up didn’t mean the nightmare was over, only that the dream version had ended and he was stuck in one he could never wake up from. (Matt has some trouble sleeping after he’s rescued, but Shiro’s got his back. Or, front, in this case) My Comments: Can be viewed as platonic or pre-slash. This is a really sad but sweet fic, very heavy and vivid with the feelings it evokes.

Singularity by this_book_has_been_loved Words: 29,260 Author’s Summary: AU where instead of landing in the trash nebula, Pidge finds herself on the same planet as a certain Galra prison camp. My Comments: Well-written little AU about Pidge going all-out to rescue her family and everyone else helps. Canon won’t be like this, but that’s okay. Fic is good.

when next we meet by julesdap Words: 1,899 Author’s Summary: Hunk had told her to eat, and when Pidge had said nothing, he brought her a meal. Keith had told her to change out of her dirty paladin gear, and when Pidge had, still, said nothing, he said he would guard Matt closely while she left to change. Shiro had told her to rest, and without waiting for a response, offered to watch Matt while she napped, promising to wake her as soon as Matt did. Lance had told her, simply, that Matt would be alright soon, but also that he understood how it felt, to worry all the time for your family. All in all, Pidge was grateful. My Comments: Lovely and poignant fic about Pidge finding Matt and all the healing and adjustment that needs to be done. Everyone was delightfully supportive, and there’s a Shiro/Matt kiss, if you’re into that, but the focus is on Pidge and her brother.

Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty by Ford_Ye_Fiji Words: 1,534 Author’s Summary: When the Galra attack unexpectedly, Keith is incapacitated. The Red Lion has to take some drastic measures due to the absence of the other Paladins. My Comments: Red is Keith’s adoptive mama, and she is FIERCE about it. Fun fic.

if you’ll be my stars, then i’ll be your sky by Lobo_Loca Words: 10,910 (2/?) Author’s Summary: [“Road trip!” Lance exclaimed. Shiro sighed. “We are going on interplanetary reconnaissance and diplomatic missions, Lance. It may seem a bit scenic, but it’s not a road trip.”“I don’t know,” Hunk chimed in. “Dubiously edible food, extended periods of time in confined vehicles, strange places with stranger people, sleeping in vehicles instead of local establishments because who knows what happened in those beds: sounds like a road trip to me.”] For Day 1 of Voltron Week: Space/Travel. My Comments: The paladins split up into two groups and head off for adventure! Great fun so far, good banter and character interaction, and it looks like there will be plenty of hijinks to come.

We’re Good by kuro Words: 2,455 Author’s Summary: So Keith and Lance weren’t actually on bad terms, or that was what Keith had come to believe, at least. Which made it all the weirder that Lance had been rather snippy lately.(Or, Keith and Lance try to figure out how to be friends with each other. They might not be very good at it.) My Comments: Aw, poor Keith. He really wants to be friends with Lance and doesn’t get it when Lance starts snapping at him for reasons that are beyond Keith’s control. Fortunately, Hunk is there to tell Lance that he’s being a jerk. Very cute ending. I love when these two become friends, with no shipping in sight.

Halcyon Day by Stratagem Words: 1,599 Author’s Summary: Altea is celebrating the creation of Voltron, and as usual, Coran is busy tracking down one missing princess. Also, Coran’s family loves him very much. My Comments: Gah, this author just does the best and most heartbreaking family stuff. This is beautiful, and it’s sad only because you know what’s going to happen in the future.

The Truth is Out There… Right Under Lance’s Nose… by Ninja_Librarian Words: 5,706 Author’s Summary: Katie Holt’s infiltration of the Galaxy Garrison under the male alias of Pidge Gunderson was marginally successful. There were hiccups along the way. But her true identity–and gender–were never revealed. Although there were a few close calls, courtesy of her pilot teammate… Or, 5 Times Lance probably could have figured out that Pidge was a girl… My Comments: Lance is an innocent soul who always takes Pidge’s words exactly at face value no matter how outlandish her explanations get. Hunk is more suspicious and figures it out before he even reads her diary. Also, Pidge is protective of Lance because he is a dumb baby who needs to be protected. Love this fic.

If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane by WildWolf25 Words: 2,745 Author’s Summary: Sleepless nights and homesickness are not uncommon for the paladins. Sometimes the best cure is adopting each other as surrogate siblings. My Comments: Absolutely excellent Pidge and Lance friendship culminating in a sleepover and the sleepy determination that they are all siblings. Shiro shows up at the end and is also summarily adopted. Super cute stuff.

Daddy Daycare by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 1,552 Author’s Summary: “Kolivan turned to investigate the yelp and saw Lance rubbing at his side and pouting. Antok shrugged innocently, and well, he’d never done great with children. Antok tended to practice pinching as a discipline tactic.” My Comments: The Dads of Marmora are so quality. Lance and Keith act like toddlers and get put in time out. Perfection.

Altean Benadryl is evil and they should also put english labels on the damn bottles by GreenhouseNurse Words: 1,978 (4/?) Author’s Summary: Lance just wanted some stomache medicine. Lance can’t read altean. Medicines can have very similar names.This isn’t going to end well.(Gift for Anon who like my prompts on tumblr ) My Comments: Very short chapters, which is usually a bad sign, but this is great so far. Good descriptions and good emotions, the works. Everyone is very worried, as they should be.

Slav has Seen Some Shit by Megaeevee Words: 1,616 (1/?) Author’s Summary: Slav has lived a long life. It wasn’t always a good one, but at least he survived. He’s seen things that nobody should see, and done things that nobody should have to do… but he’s still here after all of it. And he may not seem like it, but Slav is a fighter. He made it, despite there being too many realities in which he didn’t. My Comments: I’ve never seen a Slav-centric fic before! This has a great, though heartbreaking start, and I’m very much looking forward to more. No idea where it’s going to go, which is kind of exciting.

Grayscale Images by cipheredsong Words: 6,173 (2/?) Author’s Summary: On a mission to form an alliance with a new planet, Lance has a run-in with a strange species of plant that gives him an even stranger virus-type illness. It doesn’t seem to be that bad… until Lance’s whole world is fading away around him. Or is he fading himself? He can’t trust himself to think clearly, but he can’t trust anyone else, either. My Comments: I’ve read plenty of OOC Langst where the team is cruel and dismissive to Lance for no reason at all. This is not that. It’s an alien infection invading his thoughts and convincing him that they don’t care and it’s useless to go to them with his hurts, and that’s a GREAT premise. I’m totally into this fic and can’t wait for more.

i can’t drown my demons by electricindigo Words: 5,906 Author’s Summary: But really, he’s okay. He’s great, actually. He’s dealt with this before, and it’s not like it’s new to him. He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him, he doesn’t want Shiro to see, so it’s fine. He’s fine. He’s okay. He’s okay. (He’s not.) - Lance gets seriously hurt during a mission, affecting both his physical health and mental health. The team is worried. Lance doesn’t remember what happened. He doesn’t want to be helped. My Comments: Heartbreaking but very well-written and realistic fic about the aftermath of captivity and sexual assault. (Mind the tags.) Lance’s PTSD is a little grittier and more awful than typical fics, but it felt very real, and all the worse for it. The way he pushed the others away even while he desperately needed their help was definitely true to my experience. Good thing Shiro didn’t give up. The comfort part was fantastic, too. Good and necessary cuddling, that’s what I like to see.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

tommino posted a new chapter of Fighting the Surface HapaxLegomenon posted a new chapter of The Machinations of Perception MoonlitPaladin (MoonlitStardust) posted a new chapter of Gate Keeper Eastofthemoon posted a new chapter of Towards The Sun IcyPanther posted a new chapter of As Color Fades Away kyanve posted a new chapter of Truce Rururinchan posted a new chapter of Worth of A Paladin squirenonny posted a new chapter of Someplace Like Home TheHomestuckWhovian posted a new chapter of This Is New achieving elysium (Ogygia) posted a new chapter of familiar KairaKara101 posted a new chapter of I'm not the Lance You think I am ptw30 posted a new chapter of Bromances in Space buttered_onions posted a new chapter of The Size Of Our Actions MagmaWrites posted a new chapter of The Times They Remembered Pidge Was a Girl CamsthiSky posted a new chapter of It's Getting Darker But I'll Carry On WildWolf25 posted a new chapter of Coran's Guide to the Care and Keeping of Earthling Humans LonelyGirlInSpace posted a new chapter of The Color Of Our Planet From Far Far Away

#voltron legendary defender #fic rec #weekly voltron fic recs #new system is working #if i rec fics on my sideblog as a i read them it's a lot easier to put this list together #maybe i'll actually do it weekly #vldgen

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writing-royza · 7 years

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Two Hundred and Thirty-six - Dog, 3.0

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone, and Happy Royai Day! I wasn't able to put together anything particularly special this year – just didn't have the time – but please enjoy this Snap Shot nonetheless.

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Thirty-six - Dog, 3.0

He had had it for days now, this feeling that someone was following him. It nagged at him on his drive to work in the morning, prickled at the back of his neck when he sat with his back to the office window…. He hadn’t been to Riza’s in two weeks, for fear that — if it wasn’t just his imagination —their relationship would be brought to light.

And then, walking up the front steps of Eastern Command, the realization hit. He had felt this before. Only a few months ago. Frozen in place, he turned to look at the empty guest residence that would house the President on visits to the region.

When he finally made it to the office, a cold sweat was beading along his spine. He paused long enough to drop the files he carried on his desk before heading for the door again with a curt “Hawkeye; with me.”

She caught up in record time, still holstering her weapon at the small of her back as she fell in a pace behind. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“No, no problem.” He tried to keep his voice as calm as hers — good luck with that, no one was ever as calm as Riza — but knowing full well she had been aware of his nervous state the past while. “Simply something that needs confirmation.”

He waited until they were alone, among the rows of file boxes in the basement Archives. “You saw more of what went on after that last battle on the Promised Day,” he said, voice low and urgent. “What happened to Selim?”

Riza stared, her mouth falling open the slightest bit. “I — what?”

“Don’t worry about why. Just answer the question.”

If she was at all offended by the clip in his tone, she hid it well. “…I didn’t see him for myself, but from what Edward told me in the hospital, he reduced Selim to… he said it was like an incredibly tiny baby. Something that would fit in the palm of his hand.”

Somehow, that did not make Roy feel any better. “He’s still alive?!”

Riza’s expression hardened; it was clear she did not like this reaction from him. “You know it isn’t in Edward’s nature to kill anyone, even an enemy that has tried to end him or his brother,” she said, her voice decidedly chillier than before. “I can’t explain it properly, but the way I understood it was that he stripped Selim of his Stone, took away every piece of him that was a Homonculus and left the part that was a child.”

His gaze drifted to the side, thoughts racing at lightspeed through his mind. “The part that was a child…” he repeated, half to himself.

He could tell Riza was watching him closely, trying to gauge this new reaction, but ignored it. He only looked back to her when she laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Roy, you’re starting to worry me,” she said, quietly. “Something has you spooked; what is it?”

“I… I can’t explain it.” The feeling tingled again at the back of neck, prompting him to look around. “For weeks, I’ve had this… this feeling that someone or something is watching, but… nothing’s ever there, no one ever looks like they’re paying undue attenion….” He shook his head, before running an agitated hand through is hair. “I’m starting to think I’m losing it.”

Riza smiled reassuringly. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. We were under threat from Bradley for so long, the feeling of being watched is probably ingrained pretty deeply.” The hand on his arm moved to his cheek; Roy fought the urge to twitch away, knowing she would only be insulted. “It’s all right. It’ll fade.”

He smiled, the expression not quite heartfelt. “If you say so.”

———————-

Roy didn’t dare tell her that the feeling of being watched still followed him like a thundercloud. It dogged him the worst first thing in the morning and in late afternoon, when he travelled to and from work. In his apartment at night, he felt on edge, trying to distract himself with his research and keeping one hand on his gloves when he was forced to sleep.

The only place he felt relatively safe was in his office, where Riza could watch his back. He trusted her completely, trusted her skills that had been proven time and again.

But when she had cause to leave, the feeling returned.

Hanging up the phone with a faint, annoyed sigh, she started for the door. “I’ll be back,” she said over her shoulder. “Archives has some issue or another with the last batch of reports I sent down, and I need to go clear it up.”

Roy shot a glance toward the set of four empty desks — Havoc still away, Breda and Fuery called elsewhere, Falman in the north — and felt the back of his neck prickle. “Want some backup?” he offered, his voice as casual as he could make it. “This is the third time they’ve pulled this stunt, and we know it’s nothing on our end.”

“No, they’re just breaking in a new archivist,” Riza said. She paused with one hand on the doorframe, smiling back. “I’m trying to encourage him to learn his job faster, sir, not scare the daylights out of him.”

She disappeared around the corner, then, leaving him to try and focus on his work and ignore the nagging feeling that he was not alone.

This is ridiculous, he scolded himself mentally. You’re acting like a child, jumping at shadows because Pride managed to give you the creeps. Get a hold of yourself.

“Colonel Mustang?”

He looked up, expecting some military page or messenger, and was instead shocked to see a young Ishvalan man standing just inside the door. Roy was vaguely aware of his mouth falling open in surprise, the thought hazy in the back of his mind that he must look the perfect fool for staring… but the majority of him was wondering, simply, how?

The boy shifted uncertainly. “If this is a bad time, I can come back….”

“Uh… no, it’s okay.” Getting to his feet, he tried to bring himself back under some semblance of control. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting —“ He stopped himself short, wondering where that sentence was possibly heading that wasn’t foolish-sounding. He started over. “What can I do for you?”

The boy smiled politely. “Actually, Colonel, I wanted to talk to you about what my brothers and I have been doing for you.”

“…Come again?”

Lowering his voice, the boy took a step closer. “My name is Trano; I was asked to shadow you by the man you call Scar.” He sobered, eyes and face grim. “In the aftermath of the large battle in Central City, one of the generals of High Command was heard making all kinds of accusations and threats against you… and my people know just how far his orders can travel. We have run afoul of him in the past.”

Sent by Scar? To watch over him? “…I see. So, in a sense, you and your brothers have been acting as some kind of secret bodyguards?”

Trano nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir! We knew that, while you are here with your Lieutenant, you’re safe. But any time you travelled away from Headquarters, we went with you, unseen.”

Relief flooded through from a dozen different angles. Relief that he wasn’t losing his mind, that this boy seemed to harbour no ill will for his role in the civil war, that Scar didn’t either and, in fact, seemed willing to help him. “I’m flattered.” He came around the desk, moving to lean back against it. “Then, I take it, by choosing to reveal yourself…?”

“The threat against you is ended, Colonel.” Trano smiled thinly. “General Edison’s reach may be long, but the Ishvalans are more deft. His contact from prison to his followers has been cut off; he won’t be getting any more messages to them.”

“That part took some doing.” Riza stepped through the door, closing it behind her. “They needed someone to speak to the prison warden on their behalf, seeing as doing so themselves would only make their presence known.” She smiled in Roy’s direction. “You see, sir? I told you you weren’t crazy.”

He couldn’t help but grin in return. “So, you were in on this?”

“I was assisting,” she clarified. “Where needed.”

“I see.” Standing straight, he offered a hand. “Who knew I had my own pack of Ishvalan wild dogs following me? I should have known better to feel safe, instead of skittish.”

Trano grinned, grasping the proffered hand and giving it a firm shake. “There’s no desert animal fiercer than a wild dog, Colonel. General Edison learned that quickly.”

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #snap shots

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thebandcampdiaries · 3 years

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Ty Bru is back on the scene with a new, exciting album: Triple Bypass: Under Anesthesia.

June 2021 - Ty Bru is an artist with a focus on pushing deeper, creating diverse and groundbreaking songs that will make a big splash on the music scene. Recently, the artist dropped a brand new album release titled Triple Bypass: Under Anesthesia. This album is more than just entertainment: each song is produced really well, but more importantly, the artist has a very strong focus on crafting meaningful lyrics that connect with the listeners on a deeper level. Of the 11 songs featured on this album, each listener is most definitely going to be able to connect with a track in particular at least. The songwriting is so insightful and diverse that I have no doubt that there is a song for everyone out there, and Ty is able to really channel so much realness and intelligence with his lyrics.

Take the song “Give Me Wings,” for example. This is a powerful and personal story that deals with the story of how a friend of the artist himself help him become more free on a personal level. In addition to that, the track also deals with the aftermath and side effects of using drugs and alcohol, something that many people struggle with to this day.

This album of work flows smoothly, as its production has a diverse background. The all-encompassing nature of the arrangement makes for a thick and organic sound, as opposed to a texture that could be considered more grainy and fragmented. As a result, Ty Bru really produced something that’s big and larger-than-life, and Triple Bypass: Under Anesthesia stands out as a massive achievement on his part. The sound of this release feels like a perfect introduction to the sound of Ty Bru, and it stands out from the herd due to its world-class sound. Fans of conscious hip-hop music are definitely going to enjoy Triple Bypass: Under Anesthesia, and if this is any indication, we are on track for something truly amazing coming from Ty Bru in the near future! Stay tuned, because this one is going to make its way into your heavy rotation!

This full-lenght album will be released on the 12th of June, exclusively on Bandcamp. It’s already possible to pre-order from the following link!

https://mightierthantheswordrecords.bandcamp.com/album/triple-bypass-under-anesthesia

From the July 16th, the album will be available on all other streaming sites as well.https://youtu.be/RnGns2RD8i4

We also had the chance to ask the artist a few questions! Keep reading for more:

- On the album, it feels like each song has something special to offer, not only when it comes to the lyrics, but also the production. Was it a conscious choice to make this album so diverse?

It certainly was intentional to diversify as much as possible when it came to content, subject matter and when choosing the production for each song. I wanted a seamless feel for the most part but also a few songs that would jolt the listener into something different enough to remind them that this is more than music, it’s comprehensive art and most times that can turn into something sporadic, and that fits the theme I have for the album as well.

- Do you have a favorite track? And if so, which is it and why?

Without any hesitation, my favorite song is ‘Advice’. That was the third song I recorded and it felt so good to get that all out. Shot out to Brain Staples at Livewire Studio for his guidance on how I ended on the hooks, because it really helps bring it back down to a personal level, the first time my wife heard it, she asked if I wrote it specifically for her because it resonated with her so well.

The song is an attempt at suicide prevention along with saying that it’s ok to use certain vices in times of distress and anxiety. Too often are these things shunned and that type of behavior can lead to over indulgence. We are all human and we all like to feel good, when someone makes you feel bad about using these vices, of course you are going to want to go toward that substance because it can help fill the void of good and understanding friend. After performing that song for the first time at a live streaming concert with the Iconoclast Crew (Ed E. Ruger, Stitchy C, DJ Phillie Phresh & guests DJ Kyng Rash & Marshall Alexander) in February, that same night I ended up getting in a bad car accident, then within a few days contracting COVID-19. Depression hit me harder than it had in recent memory and I started feeling like the song was a lie, like what right did I have to try and help other people when I couldn’t help myself? I felt weak, then I started listening to it as it was someone else’s song and it clicked and help strengthen me up, I stand by that song with all I am.

- Do you approach lyrics first, or do the instrumentals come first, inspiring you to write?

In this case, as in most cases the instrumentals come first. I met the producer of the entire project, Poe Mack in Roanoke, Virginia in 2007 and we hit it off immediately. His background and my background aligned on some pretty specific levels. About 2011 I spent a few weekends with him in Salem and we began working on a project, he made about ten beats and I wrote to about half of them off gate, then after I moved to China for 5 years it got abandoned, like so many of my projects, unfortunately. Then we picked the conversation back up when the pandemic hit in 2020, he was making several beats a day and I picked out ten of them, and wrote the whole album within a month and recorded them in three sessions. I did end up deciding to use one of the beats from 2011 because I loved the evolution of that song and it fit with the concept.

- Is there an underlying theme or concept that ties the songs of the album together?

Yes there is, this is my fourth solo album and all of them relate to the heart and is symbolic to the stages of a heart attack both before, during and after. ‘Triple Bypass: Under Anesthesia’ begins as I find myself confused in an ambulance and then it goes through the steps someone might take after that. I’ll go through the tracklisting with you, for instance.

1- OUT OF THE AMBULANCE: is the confusing feeling and sort of “out of touch with reality” I might feel as I am getting out of the ambulance, getting ready to go into the hospital. 2- BEAUTIFUL FIGHT: they say your life flashes before your eyes as you are about to pass away or during near death experiences and this is a song about my wife, my son and myself which is currently the highest priorities of my life, so of course that’s what I might see

3- GIVE ME WINGS: is when they administer the anesthesia, the feeling I would get

4- BURIED ALIVE: explains the reasons behind the condition of me as a patient, mixed with hallucinations of death and actual feelings I have had in the past

5- ELM STREET: is a continuation of life flashing before my eyes, which began on Elm Street, so what better place to start than at the beginning

6- CANT SIR: is deep in the dream state of anesthesia, where I can’t really tell if it’s real or not, however even though it shouldn’t me, it is very real and shows how the neglect of certain races, overlooking an area of a city or someone blocking your path due to nepotism or racism can stop your heart, a symbolic form of cancer.

7- SYMPHONY OF A HEARTBREAK: is an extension of the previous song, going more into detail of everyday heartaches that could be through the fault of no one or the fault of oneself. Things I might think of while in the dream state of anesthesia

8- 4TIMES: still under anesthesia, this is an actual recollection of the four times I personally saw death so very close and nearly crossed over.

the first was the first steps of drowning in an icy pond when I was 7, the second while I was in London during an attempted bombing on the underground train I was on, the third was when my blood count was all out of whack, numbers that were extremely close to death, due to h1n1, but I neglected it thinking it was a hangover and the fourth, very recently when I totaled my wife’s car in a snowstorm. I was a few feet from a ravine and a few inches from a guardrail splitting me in two.

9- GETS IN THE WAY OF LOVE: is kind of the end of the anesthesia, right before I wake back up, showing the evolution of my courtship with my wife, a good and familiar dream, giving me a reason to wake back up

10- ADVICE: is what someone is giving to me when I am awake, right after anesthesia

11- HATE IS USELESS: is what I have decided that needs to be done after receiving that advice to avoid any further complications to my heart.

- Can you tell us a bit more about the album’s title and what it means for you?

Like I said previously, all of my albums have related to a symbolic heart attack.

ON THE BRINK (2007) was like my habits were leading me on the brink of a heart attack.

HEART CORE HIP HOP (2009) was like a heart exam, to see how the old ticker was doing

TRIPLE BYPASS: IN THE AMBULANCE (2011) was when something went terribly wrong with me and the mixture of habits and health lead me to be taken into the hospital for

TRIPLE BYPASS: UNDER ANESTHESIA (2021)

- Any touring or live performance plan?

Touring is still out of the question for me at this point. I’m not ready for that quite yet in the newly re-opened world. But we are having an album release party performance that I am very excited about at Four Saints Brewing Company in my hometown of Asheboro on July 17, 2021 8pm-10pm. After that we are having a birthday bash performance at The Flat Iron in Greensboro, NC on August 27, 2021. Other than that, I plan on one performance a month until the end of the year, then reassessing the situation then.

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theliberaltony · 4 years

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

After a crowded and lengthy contest for the Democratic presidential nomination, the party fell in line on Super Tuesday, effectively choosing Joe Biden as the best nominee for the 2020 election. But it would be a stretch to conclude that he was the best competitor in that contest.

His debate performances in 2019 and early 2020 were uneven and punctuated with awkward gaffes. He changed stances on some high-profile issues. And he’s never been a particularly distinguished public speaker or fundraiser. Also, unlike other candidates, such as Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren and Pete Buttigieg, Biden lacked a passionate following.

So how did he end up defeating everyone else?

If we want to understand how Biden won the nomination, we first need to understand the Democratic Party in the aftermath of the 2016 election. Biden won the 2020 nomination, arguably, because of the way Democrats interpreted Hillary Clinton’s loss four years ago.

As detailed in my upcoming book, “Learning from Loss: The Democrats 2016-2020,” one of the most consistent and consequential lessons from my conversations with Democratic activists, Democratic National Committee members, officeholders, and other party insiders, was a post-election narrative that blamed Clinton’s loss on her use of “identity politics.”

That’s obviously a loaded term, but I am using it to refer to Clinton’s outreach to women, people of color, the LGBTQIA community, and other marginalized groups during her 2016 campaign. According to many think pieces published shortly after the election, this is why Clinton lost. The argument went that by talking about race and identity bluntly, Clinton excluded working-class white people from a party they’d previously embraced. In turn, they responded by voting for a candidate who was very explicitly courting them: Donald Trump.

Of course, “identity politics” wasn’t the only explanation for the surprisingly close results of the 2016 election. A number of other theories propagated too, including that Clinton campaigned poorly or in the wrong places, that the party’s messaging was deficient, and that Russia and other outside actors tipped the scales for Trump. “She should’ve gone to Wisconsin,” “Bernie would’ve won,” etc., were all common post-election refrains. These sorts of narratives are common when a party loses, and, in many ways, are ultimately healthy in helping a party decide how to move forward from loss.

An important caveat to these explanations, however, is that they often aren’t based on very much hard data. That is, just because a candidate had a certain message and lost doesn’t mean that the candidate lost because of that message. In fact, we know that most campaign decisions have pretty modest effects, if any, on actual voting outcomes.

Politicians and parties still crave these narratives, though, especially when they lose. Winning, explains political scientist Marjorie Hershey, has a “fairly blunt, conservatizing effect on campaigners.” As long as they’re winning, they’re going to assume that whatever they’re doing is right, and they’ll continue to do it. Conversely, Hershey argues, those who lose an election will be very open to making changes the next time around, figuring that at least one of the actions they took last time was responsible for their loss.

To understand how these explanations of the 2016 election sat with Democratic Party insiders, I spoke with 65 Democratic activists — including party leaders and staff, campaign workers and donors — in Iowa, New Hampshire, Nevada, South Carolina and Washington, D.C. on a regular basis.1 And over the course of these conversations, a pattern emerged: Nearly a third of the party activists I spoke with cited “identity politics” as one reason for Clinton’s loss.2

Now, this doesn’t mean this was the only explanation they gave. In fact, more activists said that the campaign messaging and strategy were defective, or that Clinton herself was to blame. A separate study I conducted of newspaper coverage in the wake of the 2016 election found that about a third of news stories and op-eds argued that Clinton lost because of her focus on identity politics.

This is significant because post-election narratives are one way a losing party can reassess its strategy. If a party believes, for instance, that Clinton lost because she was a bad candidate or because her campaign was flawed, it can pick a different candidate or improve its campaign tactics without needing to dramatically rethink what the party stands for. But believing Clinton lost because of identity politics is a much harder pill to swallow. Namely, because accepting that means undermining something many Democrats believe in — the importance of promoting diversity and enhancing the power of underrepresented groups.

There’s a long history of this narrative being used to explain loss within the modern Democratic Party, too. Pretty much any time it has lost at the presidential level, a substantial segment of the party is quick to blame its focus on diversity, and, in turn, urges the party to refocus on working-class white voters, who have been part of the Democratic coalition since the New Deal. After Walter Mondale’s loss to Ronald Reagan in 1984, for example, Tennessee’s Democratic Party chair said, “The perception is that we are the party that can’t say no, that caters to special interests and that does not have the interests of the middle class at heart.” A national Democratic leader complained about the emphasis the party placed on Black voters, lamenting that “White Protestant male Democrats are an endangered species.” The post-2016 environment was no exception, with Democratic leaders warning the party not to abandon the white working class.

Even the Democratic activists and insiders I spoke with who strongly support the party’s historical role in advancing underrepresented groups emerged from the 2016 election frightened and confused by its results. As one New Hampshire activist — a lifelong feminist — told me in early 2017, “Based on what happened with Hillary, I think we now need to nominate a man.” She added, “[Former President] Barack Obama is an incredibly strong man. He can’t do what he did and not be a strong man. But he didn’t project raging masculinity, and I think you kind of have to do that [to go up against Trump]. I hate to say that … I’m gonna get kicked out of the women’s club.”

Biden, then, was in many ways a logical choice for a party in this condition.

Surveys among Democratic voters and activists repeatedly showed that, even when they didn’t see Biden as their top candidate, they saw him as the most electable, and overall, they prioritized electability to a far greater degree than they had in recent elections.

Biden was also, in some ways, a relatively easy choice for party insiders — he was broadly popular among the party’s voters, performed well in general election matchup polls, was closely tied to the Obama administration as its former VP, and was one of the only candidates who received widespread support from Black voters. But, at the end of the day, Biden also represented a safe choice for a party that had tried something new in 2016 and, in the eyes of many, had been punished for it.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Seth Masket

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bassclarinetprincess · 5 years

Text

Hi! Between being busy as heck and not being able to access the Internet on my computer for a while, it’s been a while since I’ve really had a presence on here. But my computer is back, and therefore so am I! (Hopefully. Let’s be real, I’m still busy.)

Anyway, for my Grand Return to Tumblr, I want to do that one year-in-review ask meme that was really popular back in the day that I’ve done every year since 2014. (Who doesn’t love consistency?)

So read on to hear more about my 2018!

First of all, apologies for how long these responses are going to get. I do my best to be concise, but it was hard this year. I won’t be mad if you skip to the tl;dr.

1. What did you do in 2018 that you had never done before? This has been yet another tumultuous year, so let’s see -- I started regularly watching Drag Race (I spent 2017 watching YouTube clips), won some prizes in college journalism contests for a podcast I did, visited my hometown Missouri gay bar for the first time, met/saw a bunch of Drag Race queens (Jujubee in February, Miz Cracker in June, Detox and Max in October, Bob the Drag Queen in November), cried in a therapist’s office, had one of my films screen at several film festivals (and got to attend two of them), attended an Ash Wednesday church service, got confirmed in the Lutheran church (no big deal), won several prizes for leadership at my college, GRADUATED COLLEGE *cue airhorns*, was featured on not one but two podcasts/radio shows talking about songs that mean a lot to me, visited Prince’s house, held an Emmy (while visiting a public television station), prepared a three-course meal for me and my family, moved to Minneapolis with five housemates, started a real Adult Person job, put up with a lot of harassment at said Adult Person Job, learned to cross stitch, learned to bake, discovered Ethiopian food, attended a podcast taping (for The Hilarious World of Depression), was diagnosed with autism (surprise! now’s as good a time as any to tell everyone I guess), was interviewed by a Relatively Major News Outlet (by Bob the Drag Queen! I will never be over it!), and began preparing to change my name legally (!!!). So it’s been a pretty huge year -- Aquifer Pod would probably collectively roll their eyes at how many of these milestones involve drag and drag queens but I’m not mad.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I looked it up, and my resolutions for 2018 were to “get through graduation, and to find something to do this summer that will enable me to eat/pay rent for an apartment and focus on my mental health.“ I definitely made it through graduation! In fact, the period of March-May 2018 was one of the happiest, most mental-illness-free periods of my college career. It was so weird to walk around campus and like, not be depressed. As for the second part of that, I kinda failed -- I ended up moving in with my parents for the summer until my service year began and I moved to Minneapolis. So that kind of crushed my previously-established good mood, but it’s fine. As for this year, I want to sleep on a more regular sleep schedule. Also, now that I know I’m autistic I want to participate in therapies and such that actually help me more than previous interventions. (Like I loved parts of DBT, but the assumption that I had borderline was just -- not helpful.) Particularly, I want to get my executive functioning issues in check because I cannot continue to be the disorganized, messy, emotionally reactive fuck that I am.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? A lot of people got pregnant but nobody gave birth, so get ready for this to be a hopping question in 2019.

4. Did anyone close to you die? Nope! It’s been another relatively death-free year.

5. What countries did you visit? Only the one. (I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I almost studied abroad in Ghana in January, but my therapists ended up not clearing me to go, so...)

6. What would you like to have in 2019 that you lacked in 2018? Personal acceptance of my own neurodiversity, accepting family members, and as always less intrusive/depressive/suicidal thoughts.

7. What dates from 2018 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Let’s start with the negative (self-harm CW -- skip to the next paragraph if you need to) -- on February 3, I had a self-harm incident that was so bad I had to go to an emergency room, and I had to be extremely persuasive in order to convince the doctor not to admit me. A lot of this year has been trying to not replay That in my mind when I close my eyes, anxiety that I’ll do it again, and trying to convince my parents and myself that I’m OK now. Luckily, it gets better from there! March 10-13 -- I traveled throughout the state of Minnesota with an improvised traveling Greek play! It was great. April 8 -- my confirmation date. March 17 -- I got to attend a film festival in the Cities and see a documentary I made on the big screen. April 11 -- I was surprised to win the Distinguished Senior Leader Award at my school, so surprised in fact that I did not wear formal clothes to the Very Formal event (I wore a shirt depicting the Babadook waving a rainbow flag and baggy Cabela’s jeans lmao). April 27 -- my last Drag Ball, and my first time attending an event in full drag (an acquaintance who is now a professional queen did my makeup). May 5 -- my third birthday, and the day Small Joseph and I hosted an elaborate gender reveal party for myself. May 25 -- the day Athena asked me to be in her wedding! May 28 -- the day I graduated. June 17 -- my first ever Pride event, and the day I met Miz Cracker. August 11 -- the first day of orientation to my service program. August 15 -- the day I moved to Minneapolis. September 21 -- the night my housemates and I hosted an over-the-top 70s-themed 21st Night of September party. October 20 -- my birthday celebrations, which were full of a Rocky Horror Drag Ball (where I saw Detox and Max), a hike around a waterfall, a surprise apple pie from my housemates, and a Florence and the Machine concert. November 3 -- the day I voted early, met Bob the Drag Queen, she interviewed me for like half an hour, and she told me I was amazing (I’m still not over it). October 27 -- a really powerful trans visibility rally that I attended with my housemate. November 8 -- Jake Shears concert. November 9 -- the day of my autism diagnosis. Honestly, this is just a sliver of the important dates in my life this year. It’s been a wild time.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? So if you were able to read the blocks of text above, you probably saw that it’s been a HUGE year in terms of typical successes. I graduated, for one, with my real name on my diploma. There’s also Distinguished Senior Leader (which is kind of big, my name is on a plaque in the student commons now), getting confirmed, the film festival acceptances, moving to Minneapolis and diving into my service year, the Bob the Drag Queen thing, the journalism prizes, a Greek translation award, an award the Classics department gives one senior a year for being a good person. Honestly? I’ve done really well. But there are other things I don’t tell people that I’m proud of. I’m surprised I was able to go back to school and complete my final semester, first of all -- I really thought I’d have to drop out after the self-harm incident in February. But I’m also proud of all the times I’ve stood up for myself (or tried, anyway), all the relationships I’ve developed, and all the ways I’ve pushed myself spiritually, intellectually, et cetera. I get down on myself for not being spiritual enough, friendly enough, smart enough, whatever. But I’ve done my best, and I think it’s paying off. I also want to mention that the autism diagnosis was huge. I’ve suspected I’ve had it since early in my college years, and I’m so relieved that I was able to get a fancy piece of paper telling me I was right -- and that now I can adapt my surroundings and myself accordingly.

9. What was your biggest failure? I’m really tempted to call the self-harm thing a failure, and all the subsequent times I relapsed after that. Same with my failed attempts at quitting drinking alcohol. But I’m trying to give myself grace with these things. It’s hard, and I’m improving. #newmantra In the early part of the year, especially, I was a little emotionally volatile in terms of relationships and lashed out at several people, and I deeply regret that. I have also done a shit job of maintaining therapy and psychiatry for myself post-graduation, which I have got to rectify in 2019.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? *refers you to the self-harm thing* I also had a lot of sinus and ear infections for some reason, and I’ve gotten a lot more colds than usual this fall/winter. (I choose to blame living with six new people.) Plus my uterus has been out to murder me the last half of the year. At one point I had cramps that hurt so bad that I went to the ER just in case it was my appendix bursting. (Shout-out to Emma for taking me and staying with me the whole time!)

11. What was the best thing you bought? I’d mostly say tickets to things. The Hilarious World of Depression screening, Jake Shears, the Rocky Horror drag ball, all the drag shows I saw in my home bar, the early voting drag brunch where I met Bob the Drag Queen, baseball game tickets with a housemate -- these were all fantastic experiences that I will cherish forever. On the tangential objects side of things, though, probably the costume I wore to the 21st Night of September (a rainbow sparkly dress, round pink sunglasses, black fishnets) and a bunch of awesome Goodwill sweaters and dress shirts.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? (more self-harm CW) In the aftermath of the self-harm incident, I had to seriously rely on my college friends -- like, I always do in dark times, but they were really there for me in the months following that. Athena came with me when I had a follow-up doctor’s appointment, Carleigh helped me take care of the wound for a couple months, Kit put up with me constantly getting up in the night because I was stuck in a dark place and also informed the pod that I was coming back to school in a Not Great State, Small Joseph was there for me too -- I really am so lucky. In addition, Ella, Spencer, and everyone else who ever drove me to therapy a half-hour away in the first half of the year. My housemates for welcoming a neurotic, autistic, anal-retentive fuck into their midst (with a special shout-out to Bex for not getting tired of me even though we work and live together, and for helping me process my autism diagnosis/work-related stuff/spirituality questions/et cetera). My service year program manager for helping me out when things go wrong at work (usually related to gender, but it depends). My coworker and friend Amy, for being willing to let me crash in her office and rant about whatever is going wrong with me. And finally, Bob the Drag Queen for being the best interviewer, the most knowledgeable about trans issues (for a cis dude I mean), and for providing me a platform to talk about .

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled? I don’t even know which specific politician to name here. So many times I open the news and just get SO mad at people. Special shout-out to Doug Wardlow, Jeff Johnson, and other assholes who were running for office in Minnesota this year. Everything surrounding the murder of Jamal Khashoggi truly sickened me, as well.

14. Where did most of your money go? After my Minneapolis move? Definitely Lyft rides. It’s kind of a problem, but if a bus ride is going to transfer at a certain point or will last over 45 minutes I’m really uneasy about riding.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? All of my birthday festivities were amazing (which goes without saying), but everything surrounding the day I met Bob the Drag Queen probably takes the cake. When I purchased tickets to the early voting drag brunch, I didn’t know she would be there, but then they announced her and my joy skyrocketed. Then it was like a line of dominoes falling -- I got to sit on her bus to the polls, I got picked to talk to her about voting early, I found out that a video of just the two of us was posted online, over 20,000 people saw it, and finally when I posted a picture of the two of us on Instagram with a caption about how great she is, she commented “You truly moved me.” I don’t think I’ve ever been that excited about something -- I literally threw up. Oh, confirmation was also exciting! It was so great to finally feel like I belonged in a congregation and feel comfortable with my spirituality again.

16. What song will always remind you of 2018? Literally all of Janelle Monae’s Dirty Computer “This is America” -- Childish Gambino “Milwaukee” -- The Both “I Always Wanna Die (Sometimes)” -- The 1975 “Karaoke” ft. Lizzo -- Big Freedia (my Pride jam) “Creep City” -- Jake Shears “Hunger” -- Florence and the Machine “Nothing Compares 2 U” -- Prince

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? © richer or poorer? (a) Hard to tell. It’s been an up-and-down year, with lots of complicated life events happening. (b) In 2018 I don’t want to give this question any more power. Answering it used to make me upset, but this year I’m done with that shit. (c) Poorer, I’m guessing.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Exercise, lmao. And cherished the moments when I was happy, gone to more therapy (in the last half of the year, I mean), kept up work-related connections so networking is easier.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Relying on the same two or three people for emotional support, worrying about things that don’t matter.

20. How did you spend Christmas? I came home on the 22nd, and immediately went to my grandma’s for the big extended family Christmas. I didn’t have a great time, really, but a highlight was the gift card exchange that we did last year -- this year, we all handed our cards to my aunt who was diagnosed with breast cancer/has had really bad financial trouble this year. It was a really touching moment. On the 23rd, I went with Taryn and some family members to an amusement park that was all decked out for Christmas. Christmas Eve and Day were actually super low-key this year. I stayed with my parents, we opened presents and watched movies and TV specials. I guess one change is that I decorated the tree on Christmas Eve because I was too tired to do it when I was home for Thanksgiving.

21. Did you fall in love in 2018? Definitely not. Love is tired.

22. What was your favourite TV program? RuPaul’s Drag Race, Queer Eye, and Great British Bake-Off are the only real answers. I also binged Dancing Queen, Grace and Frankie, A Series of Unfortunate Events, and The Good Place though.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I don’t think so?

24. What was the best book you read? Right now I’m reading and loving Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking. Honestly, I think the best book I’ve read though is Adulting by Kelly Williams Brown. It breaks down all the parts of being a grown person that freak the fuck out of me into simple and hilarious bits, and makes me feel actually competent at being alive.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery? Kim Petras! God, I’ve been sleeping so hard on her music. I’ve also been listening to Trixie Mattel’s "One Stone” a lot, and getting even more into Prince’s music.

26. What did you want and get? Community and a feeling of belonging -- both in college and in my new environment in Minneapolis. Self-knowledge with the autism diagnosis. Also, a Trixie Mattel Funko Pop.

27. What did you want and not get? I really wanted this to be the year my parents accepted me, and I tried to make it happen. Alas, though... Also, I really wanted the placement I work at to be a good fit for me because I love the organization, and I’m not sure that it is. (It’s not really a friendly place for a trans person with autism.)

28. What was your favourite film of this year? 2018 -- Black Panther, Love Simon, The Incredibles 2, Three Identical Strangers, Roma, Dumplin’, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Of all these, I’d say Roma or Spider-Man. Films I loved that weren’t released in 2018 -- The Big Sick, I Tonya, Cache, Melancholia, Poetry, Ip Man, The Americanization of Emily, Sheikh Jackson. Of all these, my favorites were Melancholia and I Tonya. Plus, a special shout-out to Rocky Horror Picture Show for helping me and my housemates bond and inspiring the drag show I went to on my birthday. Finally, a special shout-out to Infinity War for being literally the worst movie I saw this year.

29. What one thing made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Honestly? The concept of Drag Race. There have been days where I’ve been really sad, but knowing an episode of Drag Race is coming has gotten me through. I say the concept of because oftentimes the actual episode has made me wince or just been blah... I’d also cross stitching, and my podmates/housemates.

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2018? “I’m a boy, please acknowledge me as a boy” mixed with slightly more knowledge about fashion/attempting to look good but also not caring as much about my appearance.

31. What kept you sane? My friends, therapists, the college pastors, a few stand-out coworkers, long hot showers while belting Spotify playlists.

32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy most? It’s always Tegan and Sara, but I can feel my obsessive interest in them fading a bit as the Drag Race thing takes over. I’d also say Tan France, Trixie Mattel (don’t judge me), Janelle Monae, Julie Andrews.

33. What political issue stirred you most? Voter turnout/suppression, trans issues (mostly related to the memo), family separation at the border, homelessness, prison abolition.

34. Who did you miss? College friends who graduated in 2017 (particularly Jacob and Tall Joseph), college friends after we graduated, really everyone I knew in college -- professors, pastors, faculty, staff. I’ve really missed my home therapist this year -- I feel like nobody I’ve seen in 2018 has truly gotten me the way she does, and I miss that a lot.

35. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2018. This has been a huge year on this front, honestly. I’m surprised I didn’t say this in 2017, but I guess it didn’t sink in now -- several lessons from my time in the hospital last year have come floating back. Namely, that I must say good-bye to manic episodes if I’m going to survive (it sounds ridiculous, but I really rely on hypomania to get things done/feel better about myself, and it’s a nice change in pace from depression). I need to learn to be OK with just existing and not necessarily existing as a person who accomplishes things. I need to stop looking at suicide as an option (this also sounds simple, but my jaw literally dropped when I heard this the first time). I’ve also learned that there are ways I should adapt to the world, but there are also ways I don’t really need to adapt and should focus on self-care instead -- i.e., it’s not my fault that I get easily worn out at social stuff, have to put up with gross transphobic shit at work, deal with sensory issues. There are things I don’t need to know about other people, things I don’t need to know, and things I don’t need to tell other people. (In other words, don’t hurt people for the sake of spilling the tea or whatever, and don’t dig around to find information that will likely hurt me.) Finally, being alone is great but I need to be careful not to let that become isolation.

36. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. “It was great when it all began / I was a regular Frankie fan / But it was over when he had the plan /To start working on a muscle man” -- “Rose Tint My World,” Rocky Horror Picture Show (simply because this is me and my housemates’ favorite thing to randomly burst into)

TL;DR: It’s been a huge year. Dare I say the biggest year I’ve had while I’ve written these things up? There have been major life transitions, major accomplishments, major struggles -- luckily, I think the accomplishments outweigh all of the less-fun stuff. I’m sincerely looking forward to 2019, but I’m definitely going to miss the friendships, fun, and more from 2018.

Here’s 2017′s, if anyone’s counting...

And 2016′s...

Same for 2015...

And finally, 2014!

#d rants #about me

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touristguidebuzz · 7 years

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Here’s What Hotel CEOs Think of Trump’s Travel Ban

Protestors of Trump's travel ban stood outside the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco, two days before the court upheld a federal judge's decision to block the ban. Hotel executives have said the ban did not have material impact on their businesses, but one expressed concerns over the longer-term impact of such a policy. Jeff Chiu / Associated Press

Skift Take: We'll see what the hotel industry has to say (or doesn't say) when Trump issues his revised travel ban plans next week.

— Deanna Ting

While we wait for the Trump Administration to deploy the second iteration of its controversial travel ban affecting seven Muslim-majority countries, the travel industry has had a few weeks to process the original ban, which went into effect on January 27 and was blocked by federal courts earlier this month.

During recent analyst calls to discuss fourth quarter and full year earnings, hotel CEOs and executives discussed what kind of impact, if any, the ban has had on their business, as well as what kind of potential, longer-term impact it could have going forward.

For many of these executives, it was the first time they spoke publicly about the policy. In the immediate aftermath of the executive order, most major hotel companies remained silent about the ban, in contrast to other travel companies and tourism organizations.

The only major U.S. hotel company to issue a statement about the ban was Choice Hotels, whose statement was as follows: “Choice Hotels supports efforts to ensure the safety and security of the United States. At the same time, we urge the administration to find a balanced approach that promotes travel. More specifically, we ask the administration to welcome international visitors and immigrants who travel to our country to enjoy our sights and landmarks, conduct business, visit family, and to live and work, while providing appropriate travel security solutions that protect all Americans.” During Choice Hotels’ earnings call, CEO Stephen P. Joyce was not asked about the travel ban by analysts and he did not mention it in his prepared remarks.

The American Hotel & Lodging Association (AH&LA) also issued a statement, expressing the organization’s desire to “work together to develop policies that both promote hospitality and travel to the United States for those who wish to come – both as employees and as guests – while also ensuring the safety of our citizens here at home.”

While most hotel CEOs seemed to agree that the ban didn’t have a significant, immediate impact on their businesses, one hotel executive, Marriott CEO Arne Sorenson, expressed concerns about what kind of message such a policy sends to the rest of the world. He also noted that already, Marriott is seeing anecdotal evidence of some groups choosing to meet in other countries instead of the U.S., primarily because of concerns related to these kinds of travel policies.

Here’s what Sorenson said when asked about the ban by analysts:

“Yeah, we don’t have a lot of data yet that would say that this is a big deal in terms of stayed-and-paid experience in our hotels,” Sorenson said. “Obviously, the seven countries that are called out in the executive order are not places where there’s a lot of travel that comes to the United States. And obviously too, the executive order has been suspended by a ruling of the court, so it’s not in effect. We, as a consequence, don’t think that by its terms, it’s a massive deal. Now saying that, we should stop and pause for a second. You’ve got individual stories of families who’ve been waiting for a long period of time to get visas or other permission to emigrate. And for them, there is no bigger story in the world than having those rights up-ended and uncertainty sort of race back into their lives.

“Having said that, there is a broad sense, particularly across the Middle East but across much of the world that the executive order is a really big deal and that the symbolism is wrong and that it is effectively a communication from the United States to the rest of the world that you should anticipate that either you’re not going to be welcome here or that you may have difficulty getting in. And we think that’s what has motivated the handful of stories that we’ve heard about already, which are typically group stories. And they are not, of course, international groups where folks are saying, you know what? I’m not sure I want to take the risk of trying to bring an international group into the United States, whether it’d be for a wedding or for a meeting because my whole group may not be able to get in.

“And so, we have some anecdotes about folks who have reached out to us and said, you know what? Rather than focus on that hotel in the U.S., why don’t we look at what you’ve got in Canada? Or why don’t you look at what you’ve got someplace else? And if we’re hearing a handful of those anecdotes already – I’m sure there are a number that we’re not hearing, which are groups who had not yet contacted us but who are not – would have contacted us were it not for this executive order. But instead are maybe going directly to one of our hotels in another country or they’re simply deferring their efforts to plan that business.

“So again, I don’t think this is a measurable impact today. I don’t think it is necessarily a substantial impact. I wouldn’t expect, by the way, that it would have much impact on business transient at all because that tends to be the kind of business that – kind of travel that is most resilient. But I do think it is a place where to the extent we need to do things around security or around immigration, we should do them quickly so that we can get back to communicate to the rest of the world that subject to the revisions in the world’s – in those policies, we really want people to come here and see us and do business here and vacation here and take back their fond memories to their homes.”

For Hilton CEO Christopher Nassetta, signs of a bit of a decline in international travelers coming to the U.S. were already appearing in 2016, primarily driven by the strength of the U.S. dollar.

” … The international business system-wide in the U.S. is a relatively modest component of our business,” Nassetta said. “If you look at what we saw in the international business last year, it was down a bit in revenue. I think it was down 2.5 to 2.8 percent, I think, but 2.5 to 3 percent. That was obviously pre-travel ban. That had a lot to do with the strengthening of the dollar, in my mind.”

Nassetta also said, “My sense is you’re going to continue to see pressure on international business, and I think that pressure is largely going to be driven by even further strengthening of the dollar. If you look at what’s happened over the last 90 days, the dollar has strengthened a lot. That is not good for international inbound business. So, I think you’ll see continued impact.”

However, he said he remains optimistic that a stronger U.S. dollar indicates a stronger U.S. economy, and because 95 percent of Hilton’s business is from the U.S., that bodes well for Hilton, at least. He also said he continues to see “optimism” from U.S. corporations for 2017 with regard to their businesses, and that could potentially translate to an upswing in corporate travel business.

As for the travel ban, Nassetta said, “… We’ve been tracking it as carefully as we can. We have not seen any material impact as a consequence of what’s happened over the last two or three weeks. We obviously will keep watching it and keep an eye on it, but nothing in anyway material that’s come from it at this point.”

Nassetta’s comments were echoed by Wyndham Worldwide CEO Stephen Holmes as well, when asked if the company’s timeshare business, particularly in Orlando, had been impacted.

“We’re really not. We’re not seeing any impact from it,” Holmes said. “Obviously, we don’t see a lot of tours on the timeshare side from those seven countries. We don’t have linguistics in every country down in Orlando or in any of our sales centers. So we would not necessarily be touring people from the countries that have now been put on the, or were put on the frozen zone. So we have not seen anything. And frankly, our whole philosophy as a business is inviting everybody in. So we have a very broad view of the world traveler that we bring into our hotels and into our timeshare.”

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