#racism too but it’s not nearly as prominent. but yeah it bad

[crowfeathers]

I finished I Am a Cat today! probably my favorite book I’ve read this year

it’s a great blend of comedy and philosophical talks, it veers off the path of the feline stuff and starts to feel more like you’re listening to a bunch of guys having a fun discussion in the other room. not a bad thing per se, it just is not what I expected prior to reading.

but I also will say this book will make you hate men unlike no other because the casual misogyny is so insane Holy god

[jakowskis]

Day 23 - Discuss Tosh. Opinions? Favorite moment? Least favorite moment? Any unpopular opinions? Any fun headcanons?

tosh my babygirl my princess light of my life angel darling… shes so good. shes so good 🥺 i love her dearly. she’s so damn underutilized i hate how the show regulates her to a supporting role + only uses her for romantic plots. WACK shes so much more than that. i want a plotline about her cyberterrorism like hello??? i want a plotline about her warped little mind.. i want a plotline about her finally learning spanish ;-; that show did not do her justice and it did not deserve her. i often say torchwood’s characters are too good for the show; tosh is probs the best example of that. no other character gets screwed over as badly as she does by the narrative (not even ianto!) she’s so tragic and lonely i just wanna give her the biggest hug ever. 

fav moment… every time she smiles. (or smirks. hrgh. tosh call me.) also every time she geeks out about smth. im tryna think of a specific moment but idk if i have one?? i just love her overall i smile every time she’s on screen she’s my girlie. when i rewatch i might rmr one though

least favorite moment, the absolute only thing i can think of (hell, my only complaint with her as a character other than i wish she’d get over owen cuz bad taste queen pls u deserve sm better) - it’s always bothered me how she goes over to owen’s flat in aditd and just starts babbling about her own problems. she even says something like “you think everything’s about you”, and in that ep it’s like ??? why are they all acting like he’s unjustified being miserable and angry when he's fucking dead?? like they're all so unsympathetic and mean, even tosh, and out of her it's especially weird?? tbh it just strikes me as ooc (+ kind of misogynistic highkey) writing. i mean, by all means, let tosh bitch, she deserves to blow off some steam + esp deserves to be rude to owen tbh fhsdkjfsd, but the way it’s done in that particular moment feels ooc and, like, how men write women as talking too much and never listening lmao u kno what i mean (owen’s tuned out in the actual episode but you can see her full ramble in the original script, on page 23). tosh has never troubled anyone with her issues before, why would she choose now to, and when she knows owen’s struggling? yeah, on second thought, i don’t hold that against her actually, that’s ooc to me fhdkf. thts just the writer being a wiener.

my only unpopular opinions (slash hot takes) are that 1) towen fucking SUCKS get her away from him, and 2) most people like tosh but she’s highkey underappreciated, esp in fanfic, because of fandom racism + misogyny. she’s not bashed like gwen is but she’s ignored completely which is nearly as bad, and a lot of it’s cuz she happens to be in a show with two white men in a gay relationship who are overwhelmingly prioritized 💀 i will never not be petty about the way that ship dwarfs everything else in comparison. also throwing towen into the background of janto is so gross n cheap. if ppl cared abt her they'd do smth more interesting. and it's never well-done either. ugh.

i have a few hcs that are gonna end up in my owento verse (gwen and tosh are prominent characters in it bc i love them, and their relationships w owen and ianto and each other also have value lawl). tbh a lot of em are just things i think they should introduce into their lives to be happier. i want them happy ;-;

she starts coding video games recreationally!! nothing fancy but she rlly enjoys it + also gets into the swing of making little storylines n getting to express herself that way which is good for her. owen playtests shit for her

her and gwen go on spa dates sometimes. they put it on the torchwood credit card

she gets into fish tanks and fish tank care!!! esp like aquarium plants. shrimp and moss balls, that sort of thing. maybe plecos or loaches. she loves it + it’s grounding, which is good for her bc shes otherwise always got her head in her computers yanno. she’ll sit by her tank while she codes her games and the water sounds are calming. 

she also sits by it while she studies her spanish books which she does finally do. she doesn’t get around to the piano, though; doesn’t prioritize buying a keyboard. maybe one day (this is a nobody dies au btw so she will in fact eventually get around to it ;-;)

oh she’s autistic have i said that. the fish tanks absolutely become a spin. she has a few we know of from canon - math and computers, obviously, but also history (gbg) and the uk’s rivers (from gooseberry; i think it was just the uk maybe it was europe’s rivers. or the world’s! i don’t remember). she also loves trivia like she knows a fair amount about quite a lot of things + loves accumulating random info

lowkey also. giving her a kitty. i think tosh should have a lil fuzzy kitty to keep her company 

well this is smth from my owandy verse but i think it should happen anyway. so it kind of kicks off bc gwen mixes up a blind date (it was gonna be tosh & andy and then owen & a friend of hers, but shes an adhd icon n bungles the invites <3)... tosh ends up with gwen’s friend, who’s straight, but they hit it off and she invites tosh to have drinks or maybe come to a bookclub meet or something with some friends of hers?? point is, tosh makes some casual friends. maybe meets a pretty girl there or smth 👁️ but mainly i want tosh to have girl friends like i think she grew up very lonely i want her to have some normalcy

also sometimes i like tosh x andy maybe they have a little meet cute at a torchwood crime scene or smth fshdkfd. i think they’d be cute and he’d treat her well. she'd babble abt tech stuff and he wouldnt understand a damn word but he'd listen very intently

i also like tosh x ianto for similar reasons. i think it’d be a kind of friends to lovers sitch... they should just be close in general tbh, platonically or not yanno, and in my owandy verse i like the idea of smth kicking off between them i just think theyd be so sweet

she’s a very sleepy drunk and also a lightweight. if the team goes out to drink she’ll get two glasses of smth moderately fruity and then fall asleep against someone’s shoulder it’s very cute (this is just cuz i like the idea of a sleepy tosh 🥺 my baby my baby shes so precious to meee)

[maschotch]

Your post about the big bad arcs - as well as being dragged out too long and having the unsub be way overpowered, i think a lot of the later ones were missing stakes. For as bad as it was to go with 'fridge the wife for manpain' in the Foyet arc, characters that were important to the team/audience and that we were emotionally invested in died in both the Foyet and Doyle arcs. We actually got to see some damage done in a way that really came too close to home for the team.

But then every time after that? Nobody who isn't a sideplot separate to a big bad dies (Carolyn - now that was some truly unnecessary kill a woman for manpain, and Maeve - same again and not really related to the repilcator) and of them they are all people we only just meet. We see them for a couple episodes and then they die. That's all they're there for. But when it comes to the big overarching cases? We get a couple injuries maybe but they never kill off anyone of major significance and I don't know if it's just my rewatch brain talking, but you can kinda tell (a beautiful disaster - they revealed that savannah was stable way too soon to get really tense and morgan never felt like he was truly going to die - in derek we'd just seen him beat up like 6 guys while under the effects of torture. one little guy hurting him after that did not seem as likely)

To their credit (:/) they did try to up the stakes with strauss (a character you weren't as sympathetic for as they'd only just stopped trying to make her the bad guy and bc they picked rossi of all people to try and help humanise her w a relationship?? But also manpain fridging again :/) and at the backend of the mr scratch arc with stephen walker, but there they still went with the newest guy you were probably least attached to as opposed to a higher stakes option (I'd've quite liked them to have killed Rossi there tbh)

((Sorry if this was semi incoherent, I woke up saw the post wrote this and will now go back to sleep. Also tl;dr: as well as being dragged out and not formulated as well and ott, they didn't recapture the same stakes in later seasons as letting you think - even briefly - that Prentiss had died from being staked))

yeah unfortunately plot armor for most long-running network programs is pretty thick akjshdg. honestly id argue that the only reason we felt like there were stakes for the doyle arc (bc i mean come on were they really about to kill emily prentiss ajdshlg) was because of what happened in the foyet arc. that being said?? even then it felt very?? watered down? like they definitely couldve, shouldve done more with it. i still feel like it shouldve been a more brutal, drawn out death just considering foyet's mo. but they didnt bc she was still a prominent side character.

scratch nearly got there with walker. like if they wanted to kill him, fine, but did they have to do it the most boring way possible? how many times has hotch been in a car accident? how come literally everyone was pretty much perfectly fine and capable of walking the next day but ONE GUY got super fucked up? it felt cheap. like they were just trying to get rid of him. idk what the deal was with the actor, but idk it just felt really disrespectful to the character to not even have him be on a full season and have him be the first team member to die. especially since absolutely no one seemed to care that he died other than penelope and emily for like two minutes. a bau team member died. this should've been excruciating for them. but they just kept on like it was nothing bc :) spencer's back and thats all that matters. we call that #racism in media

i feel like reid's prison arc should've felt like it had stakes? like by all means it should have and i guess they did a pretty good job making it seem like this was tough for him. but it was such a shitty idea for a plot and we all knew nothing was really gonna happen, so there was no reason to really care. maybe if i was a #reidgirl i would've cared more but i literally didnt give a shit about him or that arc

even with stuff like injuries... people can get hurt as much as they want and its fine bc two episodes from now they'll be completely 100% okay and ablebodied. except that one time reid got shot in the leg bc the actor needed crutches for like ten episodes. like.. how many characters have gotten shot in the torso and been completely fine? elle... penelope.... jj..... emily got staked with like a big ass piece of wood.... morgan was fucking crucified and had acid poured over his chest or something..... oh yeah hotch was stabbed like seven times.... but its fine they're okay they can run around just fine after all that. i get its a tv show or whatever but it wouldve been nice to see some repercussions from injuries. we never even see hotch take the meds we know he has to take bc its how they caught foyet. we call that #ableism in media

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

We’re Outsiders

This is a re-upload, or a throwback (originally written back in 2018). I hope you guys enjoy it too! I’ve edited it a little bit as well, since it’s original posting on the ye old @calumh-excess.

Calum’s used to being the on the fringe and used to be the one that fucks it all up. Cookie’s always used to being on the outside. Happens most of the time and completely out of her control.  Together, they remind each other it’s okay to be on the outside--all you need sometimes is a shot.

Greaser!AU. Black OC.

CW: Deals with racism (some mentions of racially charged words), mentions of violence.

Enjoy my masterlist!

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No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go. 

_____________________________________

Calum’s used to the dark. Most nights it’s just him out too late, past the time the street lights turn on. He likes it, driving down streets in the blinking of the streetlights as he glides over asphalt. The roads lined with trees and houses. The roads are lined with life that moves all around him, but are not bothered by him. That brings him peace. He’s so often the outsider. He’s the one that everyone stares at, with soft whispers. He knows what they’re saying is never good. He’s built that reputation for himself, with his slicked back hair, cuffed jeans and leather jacket. He’s done it to himself, being other and further ostracizing himself.

It’s not the life he chose for himself. His parents kicked him out and he had nowhere else to go. So Ashton, a guy from the south side that Calum had grown comfortable with, offered his house. It kept him in the same school for his last year and off the streets, so he took it. His friend group expanded, but now he was getting himself in more trouble than usual. Originally not a Prep and not a Greaser, Calum had managed to keep under the radar for the first year of high school. But now that he was living with Ashton, a prominent Greaser and hanging with the likes of Michael and Luke. Calum made a new name for himself.

Calum’s parents weren’t a fan of his interest in boxing. Calum took to amateur boxing as a way to finally feel like someone.  His stature made it easy for him to lie about his age in the beginning of it at barely fifteen and no one cared enough to double check. Calum knew he’d never really go anywhere ultimately. He knew he’d wind up somewhere local, knew he’d end up in overalls in the car shop, changing tires and oil. After coming home too many times, coming home bloody, his parents had had enough. 

Now with the Greasers, it was becoming evident Calum wasn’t just some quiet guy in the corner. His interest was saving his ass. When people wanted to pin them into corners, get into their faces, he always had a backup plan in his pocket. Fighting wasn’t his first resort, not initially. He’d try to talk a situation down. It doesn’t last long for anyone trying to pick a fight. Just about any and every fight ended with Calum standing, sometimes wavering just a little over some poor boy’s sweater vest and plaid shirt, covered in blood droplets, his fists put up in front of his face.

“Maybe sometimes, I just ought to run away from a fight,” Calum huffs to himself as his bike putters to a halt in front of the diner. “And I ought to gas this up more often too.”

He knew before he got the school to tutor that he needed to grab some gas. But he definitely thought he’d make it to the station closer to the city line. Tutoring felt like a saving grace. After work Calum spent a few hours at the school helping kids. It reminded him that he wasn’t all bad. It made him realize there was still humanity to him.  

The kids he tutored normally never cared about school. They were too busy trying to survive, not wanting to be the next Black body to wash up into a river or hanging like strange fruit from a tree. But they needed school, even though Calum empathized with them, he knew they needed the basics. They needed to write, do basic addition, needed to read just a little bit. So that’s how he worked with them. He’d level with them, You can’t take that girl out on a date if you don’t know how to count how much cash you have and how much it’s gonna cost you. And you definitely can’t be cool daddy-o, if you not reading well. 

The thing about kids is that they always asked; they knew he was trying to survive too in a world that seemed like it was always trying to kill them. If he came back with a black eye, or a busted lip, they asked him if his addition got him out of that fight. Calum would try not to encourage this kind of behavior, but he had to admit, the joke would be funny. Calum would reply nearly the same way, “Yeah, I added one fist plus two fists and put his candy ass flat. I’ll try subtraction next time.”

Right now though, Calum’s gotta focus on getting gas. He passes this diner all the time. He’s just never stopped here. It’s a silent understanding that this is a Blacks only establishment. He’s given a few kids rides after tutoring here. The parking lot is always full of Black people hanging around the doors and in cars, laughing as they part from their full meals. Just a couple minutes past here by vehicle is his own town, mostly white, some Blacks sprinkled into the mix. City’s split into thirds. There’s the northern side, the southern quarter and the Western side. The Black part of town neighbors right on the edge of this town. He knows it’s done strategically. The edges have become blended over time. But it’s not by a lot. The divisions aren’t invisible. 

Because of winter’s grip even though it’s only closing in on evening, the darkness keeps most people in their own homes. Booths are empty. A couple tables hold people sitting. The hostess looks up from wiping down counters, smiling. She looks vaguely familiar, he thinks, as she leans against the dry part of the counter.  “What can I do ya for?”

“Gas. And maybe a shake too,” Calum counters.

Her grin widens. “I can help with the shake.”

Calum goes onto to explain, “Bike’s empty.  I reckon I should pay more attention.”

He watches the way her full flips twist up, her coily hair pinned back and a dainty little white flower headband tied around the middle. She raps her fingers against the counter. “Charlie boy!” she hollers turning to the kitchen.

“He in the back gettin’ ready leave,” comes a booming voice.

“He got his gas can still in his car?” There’s a shout in return and she turns back around, voice returning to her normal sweet tone. “Give me just a second.”

Calum nods, sliding onto the barstool. She slips from the counters, running into the kitchen. He notes the lack of a skirt. Her pants are tight around her thighs and hitting her just below the knees. Wait a second, he knows those leopard print pants anywhere. Her father was the one that had a crossed burned in their front yard a couple years back. It was the only time they seemed to be targeted, but rocks were thrown their windows too.

Calum sat next to her in English in tenth grade. The last year they had together before her family moved. He heard rumors that her family owned this place. But he wasn’t sure how true those were. She was always nice to him in school. “It ain’t no white boy!” she huffs, the doors sway close behind her.

A dark skinned man, bald too, stares Calum down, lips pressed together. After a silent moment, the man speaks. His voice deep and gruff. “He da one fix Ma car. Why you ain’t tell me it was him?” It’s a playful scoff from the man as he bumps her with elbow. “I’ll be back.”

Calum recognizes him. The man scared the shit out of Calum when he walked into the car shop. He looked mean, but it was just the years wearing down his brow line. He has to put on a mean face because it keeps everyone from bothering him, as he explained to Calum. “Thank you,” Calum says, sliding down and fishing out his wallet from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, keep dat. Keep it,” the man waves his hand, turning away from him.

“At least something?” Cal asks. “For the trouble?” He holds out a five dollar bill.

“If you think it I can’t spare a couple bucks,” the man starts.

The girl cuts him off. “Charlie just go get the damn gas. Ain’t no one trying to say anything or start anything. Just go.”

Calum continues to hold out the bill even as the man disappears into the back. She slides behind the counter and Calum pushes the bill towards her. “Make sure he gets that.”

“You do realize he’s gonna raise hell. He’s too proud.”

“Please.” Calum continues to hold her gaze and all the time he’s trying to pull her name to the top of his brain. Was it Deborah? She had a nickname that she went by. Calum feels his tongue curling, but everything to the comes to the tip of it feels wrong. 

With a sigh, she nods and slips the bill into the pocket of her apron. “I’ll make sure he gets it. Charlie not mean, just hardheaded. As I’m sure you know, Calum.”

He lets a small laugh escape him. “Yeah, yeah I do. Wait, you remember my name?”

She winks at him. “Course I do. I remember everyone’s name. Still want that shake?” Truth be told, she didn’t always remember everyone’s name. But she remembered his, couldn’t forget it really. 

“Surprise me,” he grins. 

She smiles with a shake of her head. She doesn’t go far, around the wall that separates the kitchen from the back of the counter seating. Her conversation with the cook is short. Calum leans into the counter. 

When she turns back around, she notices his the silver chain around his neck as he plays with it. He looks like his mind is far away. She takes in his appearance, the golden skin, the bruises probably days old due to the coloration fading. He really hadn’t changed all that much since the last time she saw him. Maybe he got a little bit more handsome. Maybe it was a change in the cut of his jaw or the chub to his cheeks had slimmed just a hair. But it was still very much Calum in front of her. 

“Been in trouble?” she asks, gently rubbing her fingers over the bruises along the back of his knuckles. Her eyes linger on the one on the top of his cheek. Her cousin had told her that he seemed to be on the straight for now, but his healing body says something different. 

Calum tries to recover from the shiver running down his spine. His voice is shaky as he speaks. “I’ve been trouble.”

“Cats scared of you know, huh?” Calum hears the teasing lilt to her tone, trying to keep the subject light. He shrugs at her question in response. “I’m not. I seen you fight. You ain’t so big and bad.”

It was once. She wasn’t even sure what it was over, just happened to be turning the corner to the building to walk home and behind the school a group had gathered, Calum at the center. He was breathing heavy, fists clenched. It was he was the calm eye to the hurricane of people hollering and shouting at the fighting match happening. 

“Miss stealing your English notes,” he offers. That’s not what he wants to be known for, that’s not what he wants to be remembered by as the guy that could fight. “And those tiny hearts as periods,” he chuckles. The first time he saw it, he wasn’t sure if it was a heart or not. But as he skimmed over her notes more, the clear it became that those oddly large periods were really hearts in disguise.

Totally a sore subject, so she won’t be prodding that bull anymore. “Everyone here hates ‘em.”

Calum shakes his head, a grin splitting his lips. “They were kinda cute. Hope you ain’t do it for all the cats needing your notes?”

“That’s just the way I write,” she laughs. “But for you, maybe for you they were a little bigger than most.”  

“Don’t do that to me, doll,” Calum laughs. “Don’t go getting my hopes up.”

“I ain’t trying to do that. By no means.” They laugh, gazes falling from each other after a moment. He didn’t know this about her. The side that liked to dish out the jabs. They didn’t ever really interact a whole lot in class, or after school when he’d return her notes. But he likes this. He likes their back and forth. 

“Did you know you used to tutor my cousin?” Calum tilts his head to the side, trying to go through the catalog of his kids. He’s trying to place her face with those that he knows. But he’s coming up short. She continues on though. “You remember Elijah? Always bettin’ somebody?”

As the grin overtakes his face, Calum laughs. “Yes, yeah, I remember that kid. Always squeezin’ me for fifty cent!”

She laughs, nodding. “That’s Elijah. He’s kept his grades up. Not all A’s. But he’s doing good. He never stopped talking about all the bets y’all made. He could bash ears about you.”

“He was a good kid. Tell ‘im I said hi, will ya?”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Cookie!” a voice bellows. That’s it! That’s the nickname. At the back of his brain, he kept trying to pull it to the surface. But just couldn’t for the life of him. She spins around, grabbing the plate and glass in the window. It’s a slice of pie as far as Calum can tell and a shake. She grabs some silverware and then slides the plate and glass in front of Calum.

“No need for you to be waitin’ and be starvin’.”

“Tell me, Cookie,” he grins as the nickname slides off his tongue, “care to split this slice with me? I remember what my momma taught me about eating dessert before dinner.”

She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Hmm,” she considers, fingers tapping at her chin. “You can get away with the nickname. This time,” she adds on, watching Calum’s brows shooting up on his face. “You’re not the only one that can dish out a knuckle sandwich.”

Calum taps the heels of his boots together, the soft thuds echoing in the quiet air of the dinner. “I’m shakin’ in my boots.”

“You better be.”

They talk about their lives, Calum working at the shop and her finishing up school though it feels like for sure she’s spending too much time at the diner. She does it mostly to help out since her parents are short staffed at the moment. Tiny pieces are cut between laughs and shy glances up from between lashes. Without even realizing the last fork clinks against the empty plate as Charlie walks back into the diner, through the front doors. “That your bike out front?”

“Yes, sir,” Calum answer, sliding off the stool.

“C’mon, and I’ll fill her up.” 

“Thank you again for helpin’ me.”

“You good people. Don’t sweat it.” He doesn’t wait around before stepping back into the dark of the now thickly settled in night. 

“How much do I owe you?” He turns to Cookie and nods towards the half finished shake. She waves a hand before pulling out his five from earlier.

“Let’s just say it’s on the house.” Calum goes to speak and she shakes her head. “He won’t take the money. I’ll use it to cover the bill and give him extra on his tip,” she whispers. “Believe me, I’ve got things all worked out over here.”

It’s a fair enough system and Calum hurriedly slips into his jacket before his boots click against the floor. Charlie doesn’t seem like the kind of man to keep waiting. And Calum definitely doesn’t want to find out the hard way. But as his feet carry him closer and closer to the door, his gut keeps jumping. He doesn’t want to let this be the last time he sees Cookie. 

And maybe it’s just the late night and the first time a girl looked at him that didn’t throw herself at him. Sure, Cookie flirted and he flirted back. But girls had two modes with him, they either ran away from him or they were just looking for a good time. Calum normally didn’t have anything against that. But that’s not what he wanted. He wanted someone he could laugh with, someone that saw behind the bruises. 

With one hand still holding the door open, Calum turns just a bit. “Cookie,” he starts, turning around. He might be pushing it just a little with the nickname. But the way she smiles lets him know that maybe she likes it too. “Mind if I see you again?”

“My English notes are always available. You know where to find me.” It ends with a nod. The bright smile that makes Calum’s stomach knot up again. 

“I’ll see ya ‘round, doll.”

__________________________________________

The dinner rush seems like it’s never going to end. The second she thinks she can keep up with her tables, someone’s asking for a refill on the drink, or needing extra condiments, or more napkins. But finally, she can see through the windows again. The parking lot doesn’t look like a party of it’s own. Cookie exhales, plopping down into the barstool. If her hair weren’t already pinned back, it would’ve fallen into her face. It’s only Friday. Tomorrow will be much worse. However, right now, she can take a deep breathe. She can take a moment for herself. Cookie presses her forehead into the cool counter. 

The door chimes again. God, not someone else. Not another patron. However, no matter how much she wants to disappear into the ethos, she swallows the complaints back down and pops up off the stool. “Booth or table?” she asks, automatically reaching for some menus.

“Tellin’ me the counter’s not free?” Calum grins.

She places a menu down, gesturing with a sweeping motion to the spot she once sat. “All for you.”

Calum shrugs out of his coat, draping it over the seat next to him. He chews on his bottom lip. She’s grinning up at him and he knows it’s not the same grin everyone gets. Her eyes twinkle too though he can tell she’s tired. “Full of gas today?”

It’s been a week since he had to drop in after running out. He didn’t expect her to drop it. She probably would never drop it either. “All the to the tip top,” he exhales with a tuft of laughter. She’s leaning into the end of the counter, the little part that starts to turn into the two doors that tell customers to keep out. 

“Charlie Boy says thanks for the tip.” A table across from her flags her down and they lock gazes for a second. The exchange of acknowledgement nods. “I’ll be right back to get your drink.”

Calum nods, watching her rush away. It’s a skirt today but the blue matches the decor inside and he concludes it’s the uniform. Why she wasn’t wearing on that fated Wednesday he’s not sure. But he liked that. Like that she didn’t always try to fit in. 

Calum looks over the menu and everything looks to die for. But he’s not really ordering anything, didn’t even intend to. He only came by to see her. Money was getting tighter thanks to repairs needed for the house, but it’s nothing that he and Ashton can’t scrap the money together for. Though, Calum was sure Ashton was going to flip a lid if he had to pulled more money for his car funds. 

Cookie darts around the counter, grabbing the coffee pot and smiles when she notices Calum watching her. “Didn’t forget. Promise I’m coming back.”

“No rush. You workin’.”

 When she finally gets settled again, Calum leans his elbows onto the table and rests his chin on the flat of his knuckles. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Besides working my ass off here?”

“Cookie what I tell you about all that swearin’!” The voice is distinct but he can’t place who it belongs too. The whole diner is still pretty packed and with all the waitress in the same uniform, it’s almost like a blur happening around him.

She rolls her eyes, reaches into the pocket of her apron and drops a nickel into the tip jar. “I swore yesterday and never put my two pennies in. I’m just covering myself for the next one,” she explains with a small laugh.

“Besides workin’, what are your plans?”

She shrugs. “Don’t get off until 9. I should probably get some homework done.”

“Would you be interested in catchin’ a movie?”

“Askin’ for passion pit?” At first Calum thinks she’s serious. He didn’t think his reputation was going down like that. He was a gentleman. A fighter of course, but always a gentleman. He goes to defend himself and how he’d treat her like a lady until he sees the grin on her face.

“Oh, just keep yankin’ my leg, huh? So you dig?”

She nods. “My only question, where?”

“I’m not sure of places around here, besides I have a bike. Not really drive in material. But there’s one not too far just across the west line.”

He can feel the hesitation on her. He prays she doesn’t say no. He figured that one would be close enough to her old neighborhood, it won’t put her too far into dangerous spot. The North side of town is no place for her. Nor is any spot  for him to be casually. He knows that. He’s not blind to the looks Black people get in groceries stores or walking down streets. He’s not blind to the news or the lack of news surrounding disappearances.

“How far across the line?”

“Minute. Two max. Close to your old neighborhood.”

She bites onto her lip, looking up to the ceiling. “I haven’t been on that side in a while. I know those people are cool with you. South siders are thick as thieves. I’m just, nervous. But I’ll go. If it gets too bad, we gotta go. No one’s gonna burn a cross, but, I just, I’m worried.”

Calum nods. “Of course. If ya want, we could go to the one over here.”

“You’ll get nasty looks too.” 

“Don’t mean you gotta sacrifice yourself.”

Her laughter is sad and heavy as it falls from her throat. She opens her mouth to say something. She wants to joke that sometimes her entire existence feels like a sacrifice, that somehow her mere existence felt inherently politicized and a form of rebellion. She doesn’t let it cross her lips though. Instead, she swallows it back down and shakes her head. “Now, what’s cookin’ good lookin’? What can I do ya for?”

Calum reaches out for her hand. The touch is light, makes her insides tingle too, if she’s honest. “You already did it. See you tomorrow, Cookie.”

“I apologize if my father’s a bummer tomorrow. Keeps a tight ship. I’ll still be able to go. But that ain’t to say you won’t have to fight for it.”

Calum nods before taking his hands back and sliding into the jacket. He’ll keep that in mind. “I’ll break out my loafers,” he grins. “Get ‘em spit shined too.”

Her laughter follows Calum out the door and through his entire ride back to the house. When Calum walks in, Ashton immediately note the grin on his friend’s lip. “What you got up to?”

Calum shakes his head, pulling his jacket off. “Nothing.”

“Nothing surely looks like a hell of a lot like something. You cheesin’ too damn hard. That girl?”

“She’s nice.”

“Just be careful.” Ashton doesn’t miss the questioning glance of his friend. He holds his hands up. “Look, don’t shoot. I’m just saying, this town ain’t too fond of people like her. She moved for a reason.”

“You fond of people like her? They folks just like us.”

“I’m not saying that, and you know it.” Ashton retorts, his gaze firm and mouth twisted down into a scowl. Ashton knows he’s not like the rest of the town. But he doesn’t want to see his friend washed up and bloated from the river. “But you gotta be careful with her. The world’s inherently against her. And you could get caught in the middle.”

Calum understands the sentiment, but sees no issues. He’s not naive to think the world’s just gonna open their arms. But people aren’t that bad. He doesn’t believe that, even if it felt like he was constantly fighting. He had to believe that there are good people out there. If not, the rest of his life would be hard and full of more scraps. “I can handle if I get caught in the middle.”

“But do you want to handle getting caught in the middle?”

“C’mon, man, do you hear yourself? I like her. She’s nice. She don’t look at my bruises and think she has to run away from me.”

“That’s awesome. You know I’m rootin’ for y’all. But you are in just as much danger as she is. And you already got plenty of people who don’t like you. It’s all they need. They’d only need a reason.”

Calum knows Ashton is right. He knows that anyone that didn’t already like him would really like him now. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a chance. That doesn’t mean Calum can just run away.

“I like her.” It’s final as it falls from his lips.

He brushes shoulders with Ashton as he heads to his room. It’s not meant to be mean, Ashton just can’t bare the thought of something happening. The world can’t be all bad. But it can and very much did get pretty bad. An hour or two later, as Calum just starts to feel the grip of sleep, there’s a knock on his door. He snaps awake and walks to the door.

Ashton’s holding out a cookie, from the pack they bought last week from groceries. “It’s the last one. I didn’t want to take it without asking.”

Calum wipes at his face one last time, leaning into the molding of the door. His stomach growls and he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything yet. He takes hold of the chocolate chip cookie and chuckles. “Her nickname is Cookie, ya know?” He says taking a bite of the treat.

“Well, Daddy-O, you’ll be callin’ her baby real soon.”

Calum throws a weak, half-hearted punch to Ashton’s gut. “Fuck off,” he laughs.

Ashton curls up, blocking most of the blow. He laughs too. The tension from earlier disappears. Calum understands Ashton’s concerns, but he can handle himself. One date isn’t going to end the world. He knows it won’t make the world a less spiteful place, but he can’t let that predict every move he makes. He hasn’t let it yet and he can’t start now.

__________________________________

The diner’s parking lot is shockingly full when Calum walks his bike to a stop. He kicks down stand and straddles the bike before getting his leg around. He’s mindful not put the collar of his leather jacket back down. He didn’t put too much gel in his hair either. Good impressions. That’s what he’s gotta make right now. Though, one look at him immediately gives away his affiliation, but he tries to tone it back down. Calum even threw on one of his scarcely worn button up shirts. When he walks inside, he notices Cookie untying her apron. There’s a man, a little taller, with a neat short cropped cut, and a face just like hers, though he’s a tad lighter in complexion.

She smiles at Calum and he returns the gesture, exhaling as he walks over. He’s not used to having to meet the parents up front. But this isn’t his house, these aren’t his rules. He’ll still play the game though. Calum extends his hand. “How are you, sir?”

Her father shakes his hand, grip firm and eyes sharp. “I’m good, son. How are you?”

“I’m well.”

The quick once up and down is almost too fast to catch, but Calum knows the tactic well. “I don’t judge, son. I don’t. The world’s full of it already. Just treat her right, tonight.”

“Of course, sir. Is there any time I should have her back by?”

“As long as no one’s coming through my door at ungodly hours, I’m not too concerned.”

Cookie sighs, head falling on her neck as the sigh shrinks her shoulder. “He means midnight at the latest. I’ll save ya the time of walking through that maze of a riddle.”

With that, she leads him out of the diner. Calum can feel the eyes on him. Some whistle as they leave. Nothing menacing, all good teasing love. He laughs as Cookie groans in their departure. 

Calum doesn’t miss the way his own body is warming though, the jitters almost making his teeth chatter. Her touch is so sure, but gentle against his hand. Cookie pauses at his bike and releases his hand, running her fingers gently over the handlebars. 

“So, a couple friends of mine wanna tag along, is that okay? I can shake ‘em if not,” Calum warns. 

She nods. “That’s fine.” There’s a moment where she’s gazing up at the skies and Calum’s watching her. “Honestly, I’m just glad to get away from the dinner even if it’s only for a couple hours. I graduate in June but I know where I’m going to wind up. I just need a way not to get stuck.”

Calum pulls out the helmet. “Well, let me unstick you.”

She huffs. “My hair is not going to fit into this.”

“You better make it fit, baby. Because I’m not leaving until it’s on your head.”

She cocks one of her hips out, the black blouse tied at her waist, paired with black pants too. Her red Keds tied perfectly around her feet. “Fine. But someone better have a mirror for me to fix this afterwards.”

“I’ve gotcha, doll.”

She wants to curse the way her heart flutters at the nickname ‘doll’ because there’s no good reason for her to almost melt at the way it curls off Calum’s tongue. But she does. Especially with the tiny shy smile he always pairs it with. It gets her every time and if she could curse him so it didn’t, she would. 

He slides onto the bike first and she slips on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. Her hold is strong, even a little tense when he first takes off. But a few seconds later, after being on the road, she loosens her grip. The wind is great across her face. She’s only been a bike once before. She’s not necessarily the angel most people think her out to be and she enjoys the secondary persona. It gives her a break from her reality, that she will always be bashed because of her skin color. She will always be at a disadvantage, it feels. But it doesn’t means she can’t have her fun along the way. 

As the stop at a light, she watches with blurred vision as the red light burns into her retina. Soon it turns orange, and she’s staring out of her bedroom window watching white clothed bodies lighting fire to a cross. All she can think about is how she covers her younger sister’s and brother’s eyes, tries to keep them preoccupied. But they still asked her why them. What did they do wrong? And the answer unfortunate truth is nothing but exists. She doesn’t tell them that, she instead tells them that some people are just mean and don’t understand the harm in their beliefs. She doesn’t have the heart to shatter their worlds. She doesn’t have the heart to use words like racist, and evil. They’re too young still. But they know for sure. They know about it, they just don’t have the words.

“Hey,” Calum says, gently, hands wrapping around hers around his waist.

She blinks and realizes they’re parked. “Sorry, just thinking.” Her arms slip from around him and she pulls the helmet off gently. The bright bulbs on the front of the building let her know it’s the theater. The spaces are a little empty, but there are some cars. Most people have probably opted for the drive in since the weather is starting to finally break.  She pushes off the seat. He watches her, quickly wiping at her face. Why the tears now? The worst time possible. 

“Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I’m okay.”

“It don’t look like nothin’.”

“I-I’m okay.”

“We can skip the flick,” he offers, gingerly reaching out and resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s no big deal.”

“Your friends would surely be disappointed.”

“They won’t be.”

“I just. I wish I could shake them. I can’t get that image out of my head sometimes. All of those men in my front yard. My sister and brother being scared. It’s not easy.”

He’s at a lost for words. He doesn’t know what’s that like and he probably will never. It’s not to say that he hasn’t gotten his fair share, nor Ashton. Ashton caught a lot of heat taking Cal in, but when everyone you know can keep up in a fight, people tend not to say much. But her family was prominent, and typically non-violent. “I know there’s probably not a lot I can say or do right now,” Calum starts, gently taking her chin between his fingers and tiling her head back. “But whatever you need, let me help.”

He swims in her vision for a moment and Cookie wishes she could just get over it. She wishes she could just take a sponge and wash it from memory. But it’s right there, right behind her eyelids some nights. Shutting her eyes for a moment, she lets the few tears falls, but she nods gently. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he breathes, “of course.” Calum pulls her in for just a moment, letting her compose herself.  Cookie wishes she hadn’t, the smell of him now and the hint of nicotine is pressing into the hairs of her nose. She never wants to breathe out. 

It takes a moment longer before she nods into his chest and they head inside. Ashton said he’d cover the tickets, if Calum covered a bit more on the groceries. So it works out. Inside, fingers threaded through each others, Calum spots, Ashton, Luke and Michael, leaning against the wall. A circle of Preps are eyeing them but their attention is immediately shifted when she and Calum walk in. Calum holds a little tighter to her hand. He prays they don’t start anything.

As they walks closer to his friends, Calum notices more people are watching them. Not just Preps, but everyone in the room. “Thought we scared you and your Daddy out of this town!” someone shouts.

Her grip tightens in response, but she doesn’t drop her gaze from the three boys in front of her, Calum’s friends. This is what she’s used to, at any march, at any speaking event. This is normal for her. It doesn’t hurt any less. It doesn’t stop making her heart jolt at every insult, but she can hide the flinches, she can hold back her tongue. For a moment.

“You know you don’t belong here!”

She’s waiting for one of them to use the word. She just need the lips to curl into the start of n sound and she can pounce. She’d rather not start a scene here, on the wrong side of town. But god, does she only need one reason, she only needs one of them to set her off. “Either cut the gas, or you’re gonna have a problem,” Calum warns, a single ring adorned digit signaling out the offender.

“Oh, she can’t talk, huh?” Joseph is always one to try and start any fire he can. It was like he almost got off on the humiliation. 

“Drop dead,” Cookie hisses. “No one wants anything to do with you. Won’t no one thinking about you for two seconds, so now you gotta make yourself known.”

“Fream speaks!”

God, she wanted not to give in. She wanted to walk away. “I do. But you got a lot to say. So keep running your mouth, half way to a bruisin’ as it is.”

Calum looks back to her. He didn’t expect that from her, but something hits his chest. It’s a strange excitement and the adrenaline before a fight. Part of it definitely disbelief. Not Cookie, he hasn’t pegged her as the type. But maybe he had been more wrong about her than he thought. Maybe all the teasing and flirty wasn’t just her playing games. While Calum would rather not have a fight, he sure as hell wouldn’t leave her to a fight alone. “The lady spoke,” he grins, turning back to Joseph. “Shut it or we dance.”

Joseph, who once was surrounded by his posse, notices that only on a couple of his original boys still stand. No one really wants to get into a fight with Calum. And everyone can see the other three circling in close too. The odds are heavily on their favor and Joseph would definitely be the laugh of the town. “You’re not worth it anyway,” Joseph finally mutters. Though Calum can see the way he’s holding something in the back of his mouth.

Calum pushes her back behind him, just in time too before the spit lands on the floor at her feet. His hands are in fists before he realizes and he surges forward. Grabbing the collar of Joseph’s shirt, Calum lifts him from the ground. He can’t even get the word out before Joseph releases an ‘Oof’ doubling from a blow. Calum looks to his left to see her fist at her side. “Try me again,” she hisses. “Put him down and let him try me again. Just because my dad’s nonviolent, don’t mean I am all the time.”

Calum drops the boy from his grasp. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Ashton, Luke, and Michael who have been keeping to the back, watching, waiting for anyone to step in, finally move in towards them. Luke takes hold of Calum’s bicep. “Let’s go. We can’t afford any heat right now.” Luke’s taking in Cookie and the crowd. It can go south real fast for them. 

Calum nods and reaches out, running his fingers from the top of her vein along her wrist to her fingers. Cookie’s hand unfolds and he intertwines their fingers. She takes a step back and while Joseph is still recovering, she spits on his shoes. “Need better aim next time!”

The five of them shuffle out of the theater, quickly, knowing any attendant that happened to see the heated argument could be dialing for the cops. Outside, Calum pushes her closer to Michael. Most people don’t suspect him. He’s good in a fight, but not overtly identifiable. “Ride with Michael.” Folks definitely saw Calum and Cookie walk in together. She can’t be on his bike, not with him. If he gets caught and pushed around by the cops, it’s fine. But if she’s caught with him, that’s bad news.

“Sorry for ruining our date,” she calls out to him.

Calum slips on the helmet, grinning. “You didn’t ruin it, Cookie. You made it a hell of a night. Michael, goose it. Got it? Burn fucking rubber.”

Michael nods with a grin. “You know how to pick ‘em, Cal.”

Cookie slides into the passenger seat of Michael’s car. And true to Calum’s instruction, Michael blares down the backroads. He laughs about halfway through the journey. “Got a solid jab,” he offers.

“Thanks. Dad taught me.”

“Cal boxes. You know that?”

“Heard something like it.”

“Yeah,” he hiccups as they bounce a deep hole in the road. “Maybe he knew deep down you could fight too.”

Soon they pull into the driveway of a decently upkeep house. The outside doesn’t have a lot done to it and she knows that the inside might be a little sparse too. But everyone does what they need to in order to survive. One car is already there. But not too soon after they climb out of the car, she can hear the rumble of Calum’s bike. She pauses near the front steps, one hand on the railing and watches him. The tires kick up dust and rocks as he swerves into the driveway. He continues on around the house, slowly creeping by. Soon the deep rumble ceases and instead she can hear the crunch of feet against the gravel and dirt.

Calum pulls the helmet up as he rounds the house. “No heat, as far as I could tell.” Everyone exhales. He walks up to her, grin on his cheeks, curls perfectly disheveled from the quick tug up from his helmet. “Jets and a mean jab, got it all don’t you?”

“I shouldn’t have. I just hate his guts. I’m sorry.”

With a shake of his head, Calum takes her hand. “You’re fine. He deserved it anyway.” Her hand trembles in his. “C’mon,” he urges, taking her into the house. 

The decor isn’t as sparse as she thought it would be, the couch has a couple blankets draped over the back of it with end pillows. The cherry wood dining room table has four chairs that match and a small bowl in the center some fruit sits in it. There’s a big shelf with records on it, some books.

The walls a little bare minus some old photos. “It’s not a lot. But we get by,” Calum whispers.

She shakes her head. “Reminds me of the old house. Even the new one we have isn’t too packed. Half the time, money’s going to the diner. The other half, the time’s going there too. Just never seems worth trying to unearth everything.” 

Calum soothes the skin of her hand with his hand. He never considered that, that her life on the outside looked one way. But on the inside it’s way different. It makes sense why she has so many hours at the diner. “What can I do ya for?” he grins.

She laughs. “That’s my line. You can’t go stealing that.”

“Too bad, doll. Looks like I just did. So what can I do ya for?”

“Honestly, at this point a smoke would be nice. But water will do.”

Almost way too sheepishly, Calum reached into his jacket pocket and dangles the pack between his fingers. “I try not to smoke often. It’s not a habit I’m proud of, but if you want one,” he trails off with a shrug. 

It’s tempting. It’s very tempting. Her statement was mostly a joke. But she keeps eying it. So, Calum places the helmet on the couch and hands her the packet. He slips out of his jacket, finding the lighter. She knows she shouldn’t give in. She hasn’t had one in a few weeks. Mostly because her dad would kill her. “I’ll go get us some drinks. Then we can step outside.”

“So we’ve met,” Michael starts, cutting through the awkward silence as Calum shuffles into the kitchen. “I’m Michael.” He points to the blonde to his right. “That’s Luke. Watch out for his limbs.” He then motions to a brunette. “That’s Ashton. Calum and him live together here. I live a few houses down and Luke lives like a street over.”

She smiles at them, still playing at the carton top. “Sorry about missing the movie again.”

“You were way more entertainin’,” Luke laughs. “Besides, we hadn’t gotten tickets just yet, so win-win.”

Ashton’s stare freezes her. It’s somewhere teetering on the edge of the disappointment. “Scold me,” she starts. “You won’t be any worse than my father.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned,” Ashton answers truthfully. He’s impressed because he’s only never heard about her, seen her through others eyes. They all call her quiet, reserved, put together. He’s never really laid his own eyes on her. But now, she didn’t really go off the deep end until provoked. He can give her that. She didn’t throw the first punch. Though she made damn sure that she threw the last one though.

Ashton’s concerned because what does this mean for the rest of them. They already have enough of a target on their back. He doesn’t want to make her out to be a villain, but his world’s not easy on her and it won’t be easy on them if they associate with her. “This isn’t against you, it’s just, we’re already so…”

“Alienated. Greasers are low down, dirty, get into fights all the time. You guys are the scary people everyone should run from. And I’m the shit stain on this here great country. We’re both outsiders. I’m just further out of the circle than you. I get it.”

“But you’re sweet, got a little rattle snake in you, but you’re good people,” Ashton counters.He doesn’t want to discredit her by any means. 

“I’m never going to have the best of both worlds. So you best decide now what world you want.”

Ashton watches Calum from the kitchen doorway, a beer in one hand and a coke in the other. “You ever think we could actually fit in Ash? Because if so, you’re a dip stick, the biggest one I’ve ever seen. If you thought just because I wasn’t Black, that you’d somehow could still skate into the white agenda, you were wrong. You can’t choose me and then accept her,” Calum counters. “Won’t ever work.:

“We’re outsiders, we live on the outskirts of town. We weren’t eva’ gonna fit in,” Michael says.

“But do we always have to be behind?” Ashton questions.

She places the pack down on the coffee table. “We will always be behind. And until you accept that, you’re never going to make it forward.”

It makes sense. They were always going to be pushed to the outskirts. They could never make it in. The door wouldn’t open for them. Ashton’s known this, but it was easier to be on the outside and still be white. He could still see the door, could still knock on it. She can’t even get a glance at it. “The world’s never gonna be fair to you,” Ashton sighs. “But the least I can do is be fair to you.”

“I hope it will be one day. Today’s just not the day.”

Ashton stands from the kitchen table, “Care for a beer? Coke? Water?”

“Coke’s fine, thanks.”

“You heard the lady, get her a coke,” he grins as Calum. He can be fair to her. The inside wasn’t meant for them anyhow. What would he gain? Status that all relied on following prescribed rules that meant nothing? That was his whole thing. Following who’s rules? Why follow them? What be the reason for it for him to break one and face backlash? It’s pointless that’s what it is.

“Bring that,” Calum urges, nodding to the pack. She grabs it and follows behind Calum to the back of the house. He points out bathrooms and bedroom. She pokes her head into Calum’s. Lots of posters cover the walls of various musicians. 

“If I ain’t know better I’d say you might be into music.”

“Just a little,” Calum laughs. 

“Too busy boxing now, huh?” She lands a few fake punches to his torso and Calum bows every so slightly at them. Their laughter is soft. 

“I’m trying to keep it clean, legal.”

They settle onto the top step of the back porch and Calum sets the Coke near her feet. She hands him the pack. He taps it twice to his palm before pulling out a cigarette.

“Most people run when they know I fight, but not you.”

“Ain’t most people. And you ain’t the only one that can fight.” 

He shakes his head, lips wrapped around the butt of the nicotine filled paper. Cookie’s got him there. She watches him flick the lighter and the way the flames lick at the paper. She watches the cut of his jaw, the way his hair falls in different directions around head now. “Shouldn’t grease it back so much,” she mutters, hand reaching up to play in it. She stops herself, asking him silently.

He nods. “Go ahead.” The cloud billows from his nose and mouth as he speaks. She drags her nails over his scalp, letting her fingers graze the soft strands. He holds the cigarette out to her. He grins when she hesitates. “I’m willing to share one. But if you’re afraid of cooties, I understand. I did get the shot though.”

She laughs, slapping his arm and takes the paper between her fingers before inhaling the nicotine. “Earlier,” she starts, passing the burning paper back to Calum, “that red light made me think of the cross in my front yard. I’ve got a brother and sister. Both younger than me. I’m terrified for them. They’re going to have same shitty world that I had. We march, we protest and we die. For what?”

“So the world’s not so shitty for them,” Calum exhales.”Maybe, hopefully.”

“Easier said than done.”

“No one said life was easy. Because if so, they’re a goddamn liar.” Calum holds out the cigarette for her, but she shakes her head, going for the bottle at her feet. “I’m sorry about Ashton. He means well. Just a worrier. Thought I had talked sense into him earlier.”

“I’m not upset.” It’s silent, the crickets sounding from the bushes. Calum thinks about all the hate she sees on a daily. How does she do it? He figures it’s not without trouble. They’re all burdened. No one in life gets through it untouched. Everyone has scars.

Calum’s comforted by the silence between them and before he’s realizing he’s talking. The words are just coming out of his mouth. “My parents kicked me out. I wasn’t always here. I mean, I was always other. I was always a fighter though I never liked it. I was always different. But I wasn’t always labeled different, outside.”

“You get by though.”

Calum nods, letting her take the last hit of the cigarette. “Car shop is good cash. How I got my bike. Tutor helps a little. Nearly dropped out, but Ash footed a lot of the expenses. I had to repeat a year, which ain’t the prettiest thing to admit. It took me a while to find a place to stay, wasn’t going to school all too often.”

“I bet that makes the kids feel better. The ones you tutor.” She figured Calum was older, figured that they had meet in English class by some repeat or calculation but she wasn’t sure. 

“It does. They know it’s okay if things take them a bit longer.”

“Thanks. For coming to our side. For helping out. It helps more than you might now.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” There’s another pause. He watches the smoke float from her lips. “Can I see you again? Maybe actually have an actual date?”

“Telling me sharing a cigarette on your back porch isn’t a date?”

“Exactly,” Calum laughs. He hasn’t even touched his beer. He doesn’t really want it. He brought it just in case she didn’t want the fizzy drink. He’s not too upset about it. One of the other boys will take it no doubt.

They sit outside, way after all the nicotine is inhaled. She rests her head onto Calum’s shoulder. “I vote next date is food. Because every time I see you you not eating!”

“I eat I swear to it!”

“Picnic, my place. You’ll have to excuse the anklebiters if they’re around.”

“Next time, your place. I’ll excuse the anklebiters. If they’re around.” 

The ride back to her house isn’t long. Feels much shorter this time around. The redlight doesn’t shock her system. The wind on her face is welcomed as it blows back Calum’s scent too. He pulls into the driveway and walks her up to the door. 

“Thanks for tonight. Even though it didn’t turn out like we planned.”

Calum shrugs. He enjoys the way it turned out. “Clearly it well enough for me to get a second date.”

“Calum, if I didn’t know better I would say you’re trying to get jacketed.”

He laughs. “I know I want to see you again.” It’s direct and skirts around the going steady tease. Truth be told, he’s not sure about that. But he doesn’t want to completely ruin his chances with her.

The door creaks open a little. “Good night, Calum.”

“Good night, Cookie.” She steps into the house, sending him a small wave. He waves back and waits for the door to close. He had plenty of time, he thinks at his own place to kiss her. Or make some sort of move. But maybe it was better that they just talked, that they spilt guts to each other that they hadn’t let others see just yet. 

Calum starts down the porch when the front door creaks open again. He’s not sure what’s wrong but before he can turn around fully to ask, lips are pressed gently to his cheek. 

“You missed,” Calum teases. Cookie, still bent over, pushes into his cheek and Calum turns to face her completely. Her lips are soft against his and holy hell--it’s happening. Their shared breath is the slight sweet of her Coke and the bitterness of nicotine. 

“Ain’t miss that time,” Cookie teases. Her lips brush against her as she speaks and they linger for what feels like an eternity, lips just centimeters from each other and breathing in the other’s exhales. 

“Wasn’t a footballer, but you’re gunning for that jacket,” Calum whispers. 

“I think I look good in leather,” she hums, brushing her nose over his. 

“Bet you look gorgeous in it.” It leaves him in an exhale. Her chuckle is soft before she straightening back up. She slips into the dark of the house, waving one last time to Calum. 

His boots nearly trip him as he heads down to his bike. Calum can still feel teh ghost of her lips on his. Her nails are still pressing into the flesh of his cheek to keep his head straight. Not like with a kiss like that he wouldn’t have followed her anyway she wanted him to go. 

He’s gonna get in deep with her; he can feel it. And he doesn’t even care. 

[og-danny-dorito]

A Few Tommy Shelby Headcanons

why did i decide to make this? good ass question cause idk myself

S F W:

- OK just to start it off, hes probably bisexual

- hear me out okay

- the dude has varied taste in women, obviously. the only distinct traits i could find between them all were short hair and formless figures. this doesn't necessarily mean that he's bisexual, but at the time there was a lot of social stigma around anything that wasn't heterosexual and so I'm fairly certain whatever attraction to men he has has been pushed down

- and pansexual is also very possible but i'd think that he'd get a little confused with gender fluidity or something like that and historically that sort of thing wasn't not all that prominent, especially in England in the 1930s where racism was still a normal thing

- what he probably does is that anytime he sees that a man is like relatively attractive his brain auto-corrects into harsh criticism and sudden scorn for the person for like no reason to cope with his gay feelings

- so you already know he's a stubborn baby man

- he doesn't admit a lot of things, like that he thinks you look nice or that he's happy to see you because his pride gets in the way a lot of the time

- the only time he really does admit anything outwardly is behind closed doors when you're both probably in bed and relaxed, not really thinking of anything. you'd probably hear him say something along the lines of “im a lucky man” or “dont leave me like the rest of them did”

- yeah, his self confidence is extremely low. of course he knows that he's a damn good businessman and a great leader, but he has doubts more often than not that cause him to loose sight of himself

- usually he drinks when this sort of thing happens because he can't help but feel ashamed to admit his feeling. it's a coping mechanism that he uses for pretty much everything, really

- he can't talk about himself very openly, so you'll either have to sit down and drink with him or urge him to speak about what's on his mind because that shit ain't healthy in more ways than one. (you personally can probably think of a million different solutions, those just seem like the most likely)

- speaking of which, he doesn't sleep much either. he can function on barely any sleep at all, but the issue is that before having to get into bed with someone he probably ends up falling asleep at his desk or on a couch or something. he's not sure how the blanket got there while he was sleeping, but he appreciates it regardless

- tommy probably enjoys someone who's confident in themselves or at least carries and air of being confident. people that he's pretty sure could stomp him into oblivion are hot, he can't help it. of course he also likes people who are the quiet type of scary as well. he can't ever figure out what's going on in their head, and it creates a sense of comfort in ignorance but unease in it as well

- i will elaborate on his secret masochism in my nsfw headcanons that i might make later (maybe idk yet)

- his favorite thing to do in his past time is read, honestly. it's a good way to detach from business and a good way to spend time with someone

- he probably likes historical fiction the most. maybe horror too, but he likes all things history. especially if they're about the Great War because honestly he wants to point out the flaws in some of the accounts he was part of

- if it's fine with you he'd rather just read and sleep all day or maybe bake something together if you've got enough time

- he gets frustrated with things that waste his time though so you'll have to probably do it on your own while he grumbles and watches

- if you were any sort of lgbtq+, he'd be that much more protective of you. same goes if you're a woman because in his mind woman=weaker. it's not necessarily true, but he feels an obligation to be protective of a woman. you're probably much stronger than him or at least seem like it, so not unless you tell him to stop treating you like a piece of glass he'll keep an arm around you at all times. a man he'd probably feel less protective of honestly just because he respects pride and dignity, but that doesn't mean he doesn't let up on the protection

- man or woman or anything like that, once you mean something to him you're going to have his boys’ eyes on you everywhere. it's a dangerous life he leads, and while he doesn't really want you to be involved in it to the point of keeping you in constant danger, it can't really be helped. expect to be kept under close inspection within his area and slightly closer inspection out of it

- is very hesitant to let you become a part of business affairs. even being at the meetings makes you a witness, therefore if one of the lower members snitches you might be in danger if your name is spilled. it's very unlikely he'll try to get you into business affairs unless you're trained and well-educated in that sort of thing

- this includes accounting, contract knowledge, and maybe even basic law knowledge amongst other things

- he may want you to come along for business events like parties or something, but if you're after grace there's close to no chance that he's introducing you as his significant other or bringing you at all. if you do come along though, he may introduce you as a whore. if you're a dude though you'll just be a friend coming along with him

- speaking of which, he has really bad PTSD. from the multiple things that's have happened to lead him to the present, it's not unlikely that he'll wake up with frequent nightmares and be triggered by things such as loud noises that are too sudden or someone screaming because they're in pain or something like that. and after the whole grace incident combined with john’s death he's probably even more of a mess

- this of course leads him to drinking quite often. it's no time unlikely for him to get intoxicated nearly every day of the week, and often times he doesn't say a word about it during and after. in fact, now that he has you around he's even more adamant to not talk about it. but he can't really help but talk once he feels safe doing so

- what if you leave him? would you have doubts because he's mentally damaged? what would happen if you did leave? these questions cause anxiety obviously

- but tommy has always paid attention to the little things. for instance, if you see him drunk and happen to sit next to him quietly while talking about something that has nothing to do with it, he'll definitely remember it the next day. the fact that it takes his mind off of whatever he's mourning about is something he really appreciates because he knows he wouldn't be able to do it himself

- he's never been one to have loose lips, but when he's intoxicated he may or may not just spill to you right there. you could be saying something like “- and then she knocked him the fuck out. It wasn't weird to watch cause she-” and he’ll just look you dead in the eye and say “I thought about France again today.”

- it's very likely you'll hear about his past lovers more than once and honestly Tommy is hesitant to talk about it. he may be insensitive sometimes but he's not an idiot, so he knows it may make you uncomfortable

- just listening to him makes all the difference to him. he hasn't felt like someone cared about what he's had to say without being a Shelby for a long time, and you just caring enough to sit and hear what he says means more than any big success in the business or good news from some merchant overseas

- he, in turn, is very good at listening. in fact, he's so good at it that all of that skill got drained from giving advice cause he's horrible at that. his way of handling things isn't great so when he tells you to shoot the guy at work who’s been bothering you in the hand as a “warning”  to the others, don't do it cause

- ok now for random headcanons that are not deep and depressing

- probably likes animals, but honestly if he had to keep one in the house he'd prefer a cat just because they're less strenuous and take less effort to handle. while he's not working he'd like one of them curled up in his lap and purring as he keep some one hand on the pen and the other on it’s head. he'd probably name the cat “Mitten” or “Button” ok let's all be honest with ourselves

- lowkey loves to wear your sweaters or something like that. he'll definitely deny any claims suggesting so, but you know damn we'll he still stealing your clothes whenever he can, feminine or masculine. honestly just having it feel like you're around him all the time by simply wearing your clothes makes him feel really comfortable, especially if you're bigger than him or wear clothes that are bigger than him. it makes him feel safe

- probably also likes it when you in turn wear his clothes. he won't say it out loud but he likes it when he notices that his shirt is missing only to see you groggily fixing yourself coffee/tee/literally anything else in it at like 8AM in the kitchen

- likes the color blue a lot, but red looks really nice on people in formal clothes. if you show up in a red dress or suit or whatever he's definitely going to be fucking you on the table later and that's just the facts

- he gets jealous very easily but never says anything about it. you can tell because he suddenly gets about 10x clingier and literally holds you close to him at all times to make a point. may also stare down anyone that looks in your general direction for good measure

- he gives his s/o flowers all the time, whether he's in person or not. he likes to pamper you to the point where you look like a monarch, but like alfie he fully understands if you're more simplistic and prefer to stay low-profile cause he does too

- guns are sexy and if you can use one or any other weapon that's hot and that's all i'm gonna say about that

- physical appearance doesn't matter to him all that much, but his favorite part of the human body is probably the hands. he likes to see hands that have been through some shit, like scars on them and maybe a little dirt or something from work

- he's always been fascinated by writers and people who can create something from nothing. in fact that sortof imagination is always something's he’s envied and wanted for himself, but he's not hopeless at it. he's very good at making up stories and detecting flaws in plot or logic in the storyline. so if you ever need someone to proof-read for something you missed he's the guy to go to. also he knows publishers all over so if you're having trouble he can hook you up with someone to get your stuff known

- kindof emotionally closed off but he can't help but want to talk when you're around. you're inviting in more ways than one, so he eventually ends up spilling no matter what's wrong

- once it's been established that you're close, the whole family may or may not watch you closely for several weeks trying to figure out whether you're good enough or not. arthur will most likely watch you from afar and give you death glares as a warning and john will defenitely flirt with you to see if you're going to cheat on his brother. finn is probably going to try to make friends with you, but aunt polly will interrogate you because that's what she does. ada will try to get the most information on you from everywhere she can and so and so forth until they finally decide that if tommy picked you you can't be all that bad

- they warm up to you quickly, to put it simply, but tommy will most likely have to shoo them off

- in conclusion, tommy shelby isn't an easy lover, but it's worth the struggle at the end of the day. it's been a while since he's felt someone cared about him, and regardless of the circumstance you bet your ass that once he's grown fond of you there's little to no getting out of it by that point. you're his lifeline, his world, and he plans to grow old with you or at least keep you next to him until he withers away and dies

[saintheartwing]

Powers of X #6: What the Actual Fuck, Hickman?!

This is all so nihilistic. It basically enforces my biggest issue with Hickman’s run, the idea that mutants and humans should live in harmony, which was basically the cornerstone of the X-Men and of Xavier’s dream, and now Hickman’s just tossed that all in the trash and said it doesn’t matter, it’ll never happen. You’ve made the villains, like Apocalypse, right. So there’s no stakes, because the characters aren’t truly in danger and can just come back, there’s no actually decent people to root for because all sides are awful, and the whole idea behind the X-Men at all, the cornerstone the series was built on, just got dumped in the trash.

So why should I keep reading if Hickman’s just said "Yeah, humanity’s never going to accept mutants at all, get used to it and get over it"? Well, NO is my answer. I’m not interested in such a downright misanthropic take. This is so damn depressing. There really is NOBODY likable or relatable here. I don’t care about the humans because evidently they’re never going to improve, and I don’t care about the mutants because they’re not interested in coexistence anymore. If neither side actually wants there to be real peace, then to quote Alice from "Through the Looking Glass", " Well! They were both very unpleasant characters "

And some might say ‘Well this is just separate but equal’. One, that is a terrible message to give! Two, the problem is that all the timelines show that mutants and humans always end UP fighting. After all, Xavier and Moira tried the same sort of nation of their own in life 5. A city only for mutants…aaaaand the humans came anyway to pick a fight. It seems a constant, that’s the problem. That’s why I say it’s nihilistic. The mutants will always lose because humans are always going to end up coming to wipe them out with machines or the like. So there’s literally no point at all. They can’t ever win and humans are always going to try to genocide them and it’s SEVERELY screwed up. The humans will inevitably come and they will have to fight and they will end up losing. The machines will inevitably rise, Sentinels will always be made and they will inevitably come to end mutants or mankind will be replaced by man/machine hybrids and will put everyone else in nature preserves.

This is so depressing. This is such a bleak way to start a run. I mean, Morrison started out with a genocide of mutants and even those first few issues didn’t feel this depressing at the end! They got all that out of the way in the first three books. Hickman, why should I care if you’ve shown me there’s no point to any of it? And don’t tell me “The mutants need this, humans are an existential threat to them”. Mutants have CONSTANTLY shown that they are an existential threat to humans, the whole "going to overtake humans thing" alone is proof of that. Iceman almost caused a second ice age, Xorn/Magneto killed 5000 people in NYC and wrecked it in a DAY, his "Ultimate X-Men" counterpart flooded the East Coast of the USA and froze over all of Latveria, killing everyone there, a body count in the millions, Professor X has the power to literally go into every single human being’s head, so does Jean Grey, and Apocalypse almost ended the world five times over. Onslaught came close too and killed off a ton of Earth’s heroes, they’re absolutely an existential threat!

And the reason the mistreatment of mutants is "Systemic”? Because of bad writing that makes no sense given how most humans don’t seem to mistrust the Avengers or other random superheroes, or at least didn’t until Civil War or they do something like Cap going Hydra. It’s poor, lazy writing that has humans behaving badly towards those with powers but only if they’re born with them? Oh but wait, we found out that that’s actually the fault of the sentient mold SUBLIME encouraging that hatred! Oh, and then there’s the whole "The Earth was made by the Celestials, humans were meant to inhabit their experiment, mutants accidentally got born by mistake and so to react to this, the Celestials programmed humans to forever distrust them, and coded it into their very beings".

Bad writing, bad writing, and never a status quo change. I’m sick of the constant misanthropy and acting like it makes sense for the majority of humans to be okay with genocide machines when most people in the USA are just fine with civil rights for minorities, LGBTQ people, immigrants, etc, etc in poll after poll, yet despite all this, there’s no mutant heads of state, no mutant celebrities or politicians or news network anchors or pundits, etc, etc.

If you’re gonna try and play up the oppressed minority angle, then have it actually reflect real life to some degree and include all of the above. But the writers always go to the stupidest straw men for humanity and I, for one, am sick of it. It’s so misanthropic towards humanity. And on top of that, the X-Men are pretty crappy representations of oppressed minorities. I mean, look at them. They look like movie stars. Their clothing is hot and awesome, the fashion wear of action heroes, they get to lounge about in a mansion whenever they feel like with an always willing teacher ready to listen, and a huge circle of friends with powers just like them and in the same exact boat. And what are they really? Perfect men and women punching people uglier than themselves who beat up a Holocaust survivor that bends metal every other year. And, if I can quote someone I’ve been getting into lately, “that’s when they’re not ruminating on whether mutant-on-mutant violence is the real problem, which in the context of the world built around them it actually basically has been for at least the last decade or so. And to boot, when bigots claim they’re dangerous to ‘normal humans’ to drive the racism allegory home, they’re unquestionably right – mutants are mind-shatteringly powerful and dangerous on a planetary and often even galactic scale, with about half of their most prominent public figures pledging to exterminate the entirety of humanity as a species on live television and nearly pulling it off.”

I gave this run a chance. I kept reading because I wanted to see if it was any good. The only thing I really like is Nimrod’s new design and personality.

Anyway, I’m done. I want to see what Hickman has to say about all this.

[calliecat93]

Top 5 Things I Disliked About RWBY Volume 1

(Top 5 Likes)

Welcome to the first installment of this little series of mine! So with Red vs Blue, I’ve done these ‘Top 5 Things I Like/Dislike/ posts regarding the recent seasons. So I thought ‘well, why not do it for RWBY to lead-up to Volume 7′! Sure, I thought of it at the last second and have to do two posts a day in order to be done by Saturday, but hey! it gives me something to do, so yay!

Anyways, here’s how these works. I’m going to release two posts a day. One for dislikes, one for likes. I want to say this about Dislike sin particular. As far as Volumes 1-5 go, the dislikes are things that I find weak about the volumes, but are NOT relevant to where RWBY is now. Volume 6 will have my relevant issues, but that’s about it. These are also gonna be nitpicky cause honestly, I have very few things that I dislike about each volume. Yes, including V5. Anything I bring up here I’ll do my best to explain, and same with Likes though obviously that’s gonna be more positive/happy. Dislikes are gonna be first cause I wanna get them out of the way.

Okay! Let's do this!

#5 - Chapter Runtimes

As of now, we RWBY fans are used to chapters bing about... 12-15 minutes on average, and longer than that on certain occasions. If it goes past 20 minutes, then we know that it’s a biiiig deal. Volume 1 though was... bizarre. Aside from Chapters 1, 8, 15, and 16 they ranged from about 6-8 minutes. Sometimes even four minutes. Now, this may not seem like that big a deal, especially since it is Volume 1 so they were still figuring the show out. So there's no reason to harp on them... but it is still an issue for this volume in particular and while I came into it after all the chapters were out and was able to just binge it in one go, it was a frequent complaint that I saw regarding it.

The issue is that many of the episodes would end up being two-parters when may of them would just be one episode nowadays. I’m gonna get to the Jaune Arc in another section, so let's take say... The Badge and the Burden for example. It’s a two-parter that I really like... but Part One is five and a half minutes, and Part 2 is seven minutes. Combined, they equal a total of around 12 1/2 minutes, reaching the current standard. I really feel that this could have improved pacing, especially for the Jaune arc since if it only went two episodes, IDT it would have annoyed as many people as it did. If you combined all the two-parters, V1 would ave a total of ten episodes. Now I assume that the episode order would have been cut down, so if they went with 12 then that gives them two episodes to do more things like showing more of Team RWBY growing as a team, showing more of how Beacon works, setting up things like Weiss’ racism towards Faunus and Blake’s Faunus status, etc. 

As I said though, this was the first volume. I think that they were trying to go with how they did Red vs Blue episodes since that was what they knew, and that format just didn’t work for RWBY. It was a critique that they listened to, and fixed accordingly in V2 and beyond. They were still finding their feet with the show and nowadays since you can just binge the volume, any pacing issues aren’t as big a deal. But I do feel like some things could have been better established or fleshed out had they gone with the current format here, so it is still something about the volume that I don’t care for. But it is certianly not an issue anymore.

#4 - Length of the Jaune Arc... Arc

Oh Jaune, the shit that you got for these four episodes...

So in V1, there are these two parts titled Jaunedice and Forever Fall. In it, Jaune is being bullied and struggling in his classes. Pyrrha offers to help, but Jaune refuses and we find out hat he cheated his way into Beacon. Cardin finds out, blackmails him, Jaune grows a backbone, Grimm fight, and Jaune finally accepts Pyrrha’s help. It’s more than that. We have Jaune opening up about how worthless he feels and how he hates being the Butt-Monkey that he had been made as over the course of the volume. He’s doubtful of his role as a leader, with Ruby giving him encouragement that later helps him stand up to Cardin. We see how caring Pyrrha is as she tries to convince Jaune to let her help him, how disappointed she is when he rejects her, and her using her power to help Jaune and give him a confidence boost. It’s a good story that especially helps with the bond between Jaune and Pyrrha and without this plot, the things that happen later wouldn’t have been nearly as impactful, especially during V3.

That being said, however, the issue here is that it’s four episodes long. In a 16 episode season where the runtime for each was under ten minutes. That meant that four weeks straight, instead of focusing on the actual main characters of having cool fights, people spent essnetially a month watching this ‘Jaune gets bullied’ storyline. Now I want to make this clear, I love Jaune. He's one of my favorite characters and I think that him hating being a fool and wanting to be a hero but having this kinda macho mindset about it makes him an interesting character. They subvert the ‘loser hero who becomes greater than everyone’ cliche by having Jaune have to man up, but he doesn't ever really become this ultra-badass hero. He has to learn to accept help and pays consequences for cheating his way into Beacon by having to actually work to prove his worth. 

Jaune had a very good character arc here... it’s just that the season’s structure makes it feel like he took the spotlight from other characters, especially Team RWBY. It being kind of a standard bullying story that isn’t out of place in any teen drama also didn’ make it very interesting, it just sets up more interesting things in later volumed. Even the Grimm fight at the end, compared to every other fight this volume, isn’t all that great and only serves to both reveal Pyrrha’s Semblance and to end the Cardin conflict. Had this been in the current format and just two episodes, it probably wouldn’t have annoyed as many people. ut as such, it’s just kinda... meh compared to the high fantasy that we get later and maybe gave aune a little too much attention. They do a much better job of giving Jaune time when prominent, but not letting it override other characters. But I will stills ay the arc is good character stuff for Jaune and Pyrrha, sets up Jaune training to become better, shows Pyrrha’s selfless nature, and without it, anything that happened later wouldn't have been nearly as impactful. So I don’t hate it, but it ain’t perfect.

#3 - Cardin Sucks

Okay, this is gonna be brief, but Cardin sucks. Okay yeah, I know that he’s supposed to suck, but he’s just... a bad character. He is a one-dimensional bully who exists solely to make Jaune miserable. After this arc, he has no prominence and in side stories like the manga or comics, they only use him to have a hate sink against other characters. He’s boring. He has no reason to be an asshole. We know nothing about him or why he’s that way. Which makes him utterly uninteresting, especially compared to later villains. Like say what you want about CInder or Adam, but at least they have actual motivations and impact. And it looks especially lame when you have Roman in this volume, who is one of the most beloved villains from the show because of how charismatic and fun he is. 

Sure Cardin's not supposed to be this great villain nor do I want him to be, and yes sucky people who suck just because are a thing. But Cardin just exists for the Jaune Arc... arc, which really with a couple of adjustments you could write him out completely. Like did we really need to have Jaune get blackmailed to make his arc work? There is nothing interesting about Cardin’s character. he’s just... a bully, and that’s it. I get it, he's made to be a hateful bully, but it also makes him a poor character and I just want him to vanish form all material because he’s not good for anything really.

#2 - Penny Fight

Let's get this out of the way before I say anything else. Monty was an incredibly talented animator who clearly had a love for his work and was incredibly creative and passionate. His fights were always amazing, this one included, and he gave us a show that I have loved for several years now. Even now, he is greatly missed but will always be remembered as an amazing animator, and as an amazing person. That being said though, Monty was not perfect and I think that this moment from the finale shows that sometimes he let his love for cool action scenes go too far.

Monty sometimes had a bad habit of making the characters more powerful than they really should be. This could look bad in stories where the characters would lose fights and people would get upset due to it. Like with how Adam was made out to be this badass... and we’ve ALL seen how people keep trying to use that argument for how Miles and Kerry ruined him, even though they didn’t. Then we have things like Penny. Now originally, Miles didn’t want the Penny Robot reveal to happen until V2. Now admittedly he and Kerry... kinda made it obvious that enny was at least not normal during her intro so everyone pretty much figured it out by the finale, but still, there was room for speculation. But Monty decided that he wanted a badass action sequence with Penny... and in doing so it gave the reveal away. And apparently, no one bothered to inform Miles and you can tell on the V1 Commentary that he was pretty surprised to see the sequence.

Monty was a great animator and he created a fantastic world. But like anyone, he had his flaws. I’m still annoyed at how that fight, as cool as it looked, gave the reveal away and went against the writer’s intention. I do not like it when stories get messed with just for coolness, and this is a prime example. IDT it annoyed people as much as the V2 finale where Monty definitely went overboard with cool action scenes. but this is still very much an example of the problems with doing that. V1 still is my least favorite finale for this and one other reason that we’ll go into in a bit. It’s not a big deal now and again, most people already figured the twist out due to the lack of subtlety. But it still pretty much ruined any build-up that it could have had, and that is a shame. Nevertheless, it was a very badass sequence by Monty and shows off just how crazy talented that the man truly was. Monty was a mad genius, and his memory still goes on even today. So for that, I can give it a little bit of slack.

I cannot give a much slack for Number One though...

#1. Weiss at the end Black and White was poorly done

To be honest, The Stray and Black and White is... not a strong finale. Yes, it brings up the Faunus oppression and introduced the White Fang as well as Sun. But the Faunus stuff had very little build-up. Sure, we had Cardin bullying Velvet... but it was Cardin, who bullied everyone so not a great example. Wiss worked better as, why this was her bitch phase, he wasn't a bad person and we saw her kinder side earlier. Plus she had a reason that wasn’t just racism and helped build-up to her problematic family life. But I find it hard to believe that Weiss hadn’t been showing her anti-Fuanus stances before The Stray, which is what it felt like so I feel like a better job could have been done regarding her.

Then we get to the ending of Black and White, and it feels... forced. Really forced. At the end, Weiss suddenly did a 180, telling Blake that she doesn't care that Blake is a Faunus, asks Blake to open up to her team more, and tries to hold back on any derogatory terms against Sun. It’s nice to see Weiss trying to be better, and later volumes very much show how much that she’s improved... but there is no build-up to her reaching this epiphany. Sure Ruby and Yang call her out on how horrible she’s acting towards Blake... but that was before they knew that she was a Faunus with Penny having to spell it out for them. Yeah, Yang makes a snide remark towards Weiss later about Weiss not caring which Weiss rebukes... but that’s it. We don’t see Weiss learn anything or see her view shift whatsoever over the course of these two episodes. I guess you can argue that the revelation is what made Weiss reconsider... but since she was calling Blake a criminal before the revelation, it kinda makes it hard for me to believe that. I guess it was meant to be implied, but even when I watched it the first time, I was baffled by it.

It just kinda cheapens the ending when Weiss did a 180 out of nowhere. Now Om glad that she had the revelation. As I said, later volumes show that she meant in with V2 having her stop Blake from closing up in Chapter 2 and get her to open up to them. V3 has her defend Velvet, a Faunus, and shows concern for her safety. V6 had her get pissed at Cordovin when she made a racist motion at Blake with murder clearly in her eyes. And I expect that V7 is going to show us more of this. it’s also clear that Weiss’ racism was due to a hateful mindset that she was raised into that she knows is wrong and had to grow out of. So I can see Weiss growing out of it in the finale and am happy for what we see later... but we don’t see her start to break out of it here. She says that she had 12 hours to think about it... and we’re just supposed to assume that she came to the conclusion because we were told that it happened. ‘Show don’t tell’ has been a frequent critique of the show, and sadly this is one of the best examples. Maybe if we saw Ruby and Yang call Weiss out after the Faunus revelation or saw Blake and Weiss interacting before Weiss’ racism became known it would have worked, but... no. We don’t. Again, it’s V1 so it’s not gonna be perfect and we do see that Weiss was genuine. I just wish that they did a better job of letting us experience that growth with her.

________________________________________________________________

Okay, Dislikes are done. Again, many if not all of these are no longer relevant to where RWBY is now. It’s just a little trip down memory lane. If anything, it really shows how much that everyone has improved over the years, which is a great thing. The good news is that now we can focus on the good things for VOlume 1. That post will go up later today... after I sleep. So thank you all for reading, and be on the lookout for the Top 5 Things I Liked About RWBY Volume 1~!

[general-du-vallon]

@oh-porthos did a post about wanting some Porthos centric fic recent and I WAS gonna reply direct but then... rant happened, and I didn’t want to derail or add to a post or idk fandom on tumblr has rules I don’t really understand sorry. Sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged but I felt it was unfair to do this without tagging you. 

so I trawled through some old tags and bookmarks and AO3 history and pulled out some stuff for Porthos fics :) he is the best and I love some of the fic written and I love the musketeers fandom but doing this kinda reminded me why I pretty much stopped reading fic at random. I have a LOT of fic that name-check Porthos, or Porthos is in, or seems to be about Porthos but... he’s not in it much.

Sometimes I don’t think people even know they’re doing it but there’s this penchant to have him be this big steady rock for other people to grab onto, to be there for other people and comfort them and be the ‘stable’ one and even fics about him sometimes turn into it just being him looking after other people. And that’s a huge thing in his character for sure but you can write about characters like that, who take good care of other people and are there for their friends and solid and sure, and still centre them and their inner life and their problems. Fandom as a whole has a problem with racism, and I kind try and stay out of it because I don’t like the wank and I love Muskies and I like my fandom and my little corner, but, fuck that.

BBC Musketeers had some truly IFFY writing and made some fucked up choices for their characters of colour, and we as a fandom never did much to correct that. It’s easy to fall for white characters, to care about their inner lives, and forget about characters of colour even having them. That’s what we as white fans (can’t talk for PoC) have been taught and confronting that sucks. BBC Musketeers fandom is racist, the fanfic is full of tropes and sometimes out-right just blatant racism and sometimes just he gets forgotten, and that’s not even considering Sylvie who exists across multiple minority intersections and gets shit from fandom.

Yeah, I love Porthos and love some of the fic and you guys are awesome and I will always dig through for my fave fics, but this did 100% remind me of why I mostly stopped reading fic and I follow AO3 tag for Porthos and I haven’t come across a fic that’s ACTUALLY ABOUT HIM in months, except one where he is captured and enslaved which oh my god, at least tag it?? anyway, here is some fic which I hope is not too racism-y or neglectful of Porthos, but I am white so I cannot make that decision 100% and I apologise if anything recced here is bad for people. In no particular order except the order I found them and without further ado:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/437002 - Fear No Evil series by Suzie Shooter. I like this writer. Not Porthos-centric per se, but Porthos is nice in this series and features more prominently than often in fics. I also like this spide one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378759

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013586 - again, all the characters are mains, but Porthos is great, and I love the whole series :) no sick Porthos but he’s lovely and they’re all lovely and Canadian Garrison is my friend and I love these stories so.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382492 - Writing Monsters likes Athos best, but I like Porthos, and this story is beeeaaaauuuuutiful.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116789/chapters/6753611 - I like MD Jensen, so. Porthos is nice and prominent in this one :) and they cry. Also this one with hangovers the porthos one is gooood: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613295

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9267722 - oh OH THIS FIC!!!! THIS IS THE BEST FIC!!! Read this one!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128804/chapters/6780734 - Porthos is sick in the first chapter of this one :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12479912 - this one is nice! Not sick fic but nice

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7525528 - this one is hilarious, I love this one

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180965 - this one is fun, lots of Porthos though it’s d’Artagnan POV

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2327249 - I have no idea when I read this, but it’s on a list somewhere and i just REread it and it’s adorable. Porthos has a plastercast in the first bit is that nearly sickfic?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361635 - this one is a cool au, I haven’t reread it in a while but I remember Porthos is great in it and gets quite good bits

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594486 - Porthos is sick in this one

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862289 - this one is very cool! Porthos is hurt not sick. Constance and Porthos are both badass and awesome I love this fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929816 - Porthos has bad dreams

http://hacash.tumblr.com/post/115214543083/fic-long-road-up-to-recovery - this one is one i found recently and is really really awesome! Porthos is injured maybe sick

[duaneodavila]

Journalist, Heal Thyself

Maggie Haberman is an excellent reporter, a big player in the big leagues of journalism as the White House correspondent for the New York Times. And like many in her position, and indeed like many who aren’t in her position but have just had enough of the constant onslaught of idiocy, she’s decided to take a twitter hiatus.

That’s cool. Many others have, and many of us take the occasional week or month off from the never-ending reminder that the average IQ is 100, and half of all twitter users are below that. But Haberman didn’t just log off. She wrote an op-ed.

The evening before, I had complained to a close friend that I hated being on Twitter. It was distorting discourse, I said. I couldn’t turn off the noise. She asked what was the worst that could happen if I stepped away from it.

There was nothing I could think of. And so just after 6 p.m. last Sunday, I did.

In the early days of twitter, it was fairly benign. People posted pics of dinner and made jokes, most anodyne but some that would become problematic years later as the warring tribes searched for reasons to attack. But the tenor has changed markedly since Trump, and Maggie being all Trump, all the time, was a natural target.

After nearly nine years and 187,000 tweets, I have used Twitter enough to know that it no longer works well for me.

That’s a lot of twits. I’ve been on twitter for ten years, and have about half as many. It may be because she’s used twitter as a delivery mechanism for breaking news, or felt compelled to engage with others, some worth her time and others just idiots of either the useful or annoying types.

Twitter has stopped being a place where I could learn things I didn’t know, glean information that was free from errors about a breaking news story or engage in a discussion and be reasonably confident that people’s criticisms were in good faith.

This is where Haberman’s rationale starts to break down. Twitter, like any medium, is merely a forum, a platform where there will be smart and dumb, honest and dishonest, good faith and bad. There are remarkably good things, funny jokes, interesting asides and fascinating discussions. And there’s tons of garbage. This was always the case. Even when it was less offensive, it was still largely dumb. After all, the twits come from people, and people aren’t nearly as fabulous as we should be. Not you, of course. You are totally fab. Other people.

The viciousness, toxic partisan anger, intellectual dishonesty, motive-questioning and sexism are at all-time highs, with no end in sight. It is a place where people who are understandably upset about any number of things go to feed their anger, where the underbelly of free speech is at its most bilious.

And here is where Maggie goes rouge. Viciousness? Check. Toxic partisan anger? Beyond belief. Intellectual dishonesty? Oh yeah. Motive-questioning? It’s become an art form in the hands of trolls. Sexism? Wait, how did that get into the same list as the others? Why not racism? Is Haberman a racist, or homophobe, or, god forbid, a xenophobe? See the problem?

Whether it’s at an all-time high may be debatable, as the shameless use of hyperbole is taken for granted, but it’s bad. And so what? If the pain of seeing the toxic combination of ignorance and outrage becomes too much, blink, shrug, scroll. But for Maggie, in particular, to complain about the ugliness and stupidity of people seems, well, disingenuous.

More recently, instead of engaging in thoughtful debates, I found myself spending an increasing amount of time explaining an errant word or a poorly phrased tweet, and coming off defensive as I did it. At other times, I watched as an offhand comment became tinder for a divisive national conversation.

On Twitter, everything is shrunk down to the same size, making it harder to discern what is a big deal and what is not. Tone often overshadows the actual news. All outrages appear equal. And that makes it harder for significant events — like Mr. Trump’s extraordinarily pliant performance with President Vladimir Putin of Russia — to break through.

Having read the New York Times for decades, including the past two years, this complaint cannot go unnoticed. There hasn’t been a day since Trump was the Republican candidate that the New York Times, the Paper of Record, hasn’t had at least two, if not more, editorials or op-eds that didn’t proclaim him “literally Hitler,” bringing the Apocalypse upon us, destroying everything that was good and holy.

Your paper, Maggie, gave it’s precious real estate to some of the most ridiculous, outrageous, baseless, and yes, utterly false, claims of the end of times. I’ve discussed a few of them here from time to time, but it could be a career vetting the inane op-eds. Have you ever read Michelle Goldberg’s columns? Poor Charles Blow has lost his mind. Or my favorite muse, Roxane Gay?

While I appreciate that as a reporter, you’re given assignments in your role as White House correspondent, but who has done more to elevate every burp and fart of this administration to prominence than you, Maggie?

On Twitter, everything is shrunk down to the same size, making it harder to discern what is a big deal and what is not. Tone often overshadows the actual news. All outrages appear equal. And that makes it harder for significant events — like Mr. Trump’s extraordinarily pliant performance with President Vladimir Putin of Russia — to break through.

As of this moment, you have over 880,000 followers on twitter. Have you ever twitted that something Trump did, said, twitted, was dumb but insignificant? The vast majority of things that have come from the White House fits that characterization, dumb but insignificant. Have you used your clout on twitter to calm down the outrage, to focus on things that truly matter and distinguish the wheat from the chafe? Or have you broadcast them all the same, feeding the outrage machine even as you hold yourself aloof from the vicious animals and the flaming nutjobs?

You want off twitter? So get off twitter. Log out and don’t look back, just like mere mortals might do. But you and your paper are integral to this cesspool. to feeding red meat to the starving mob. You bear responsibility for this disease of twitter, and yet you blame twitter and want to walk away from the mess you were integral in making?

You don’t owe anyone twits. You can twit or not, as you choose. You owe no one your twits. But since you chose to “explain” yourself, at least be honest about what you’re walking away from and your complicity in making it the cesspool it is.

Journalist, Heal Thyself republished via Simple Justice

[the-blog-of-anger-blog]

Racism - a favorite topic of tumblr SJWs everywhere.

But does anyone talk about how cyclical our attempts to stop racism are?

Like, we’ve learned through experience how to best eliminate racism from people and the answer is kinda stupid easy: stop trying to make differences that don’t exist. Different skin color? Fine. That exists. It’s when we start to glue possible differences together that we get stereotypes, and often incorrect/toxic ones.

The problem we have now in our society is we are now letting lives of ancestors, or even other people’s ancestors, affect our self-image and schools of thought. 

There is nothing wrong with history, in fact, I personally believe we don’t study history nearly enough or as extensively as we should. We study up on smaller, localized issues - which is fine - but then we stay in that bubble. We don’t grab any context of the world at that time. And as a result of staying in this tiny portion of the history of our world, we become increasingly self-centered without really realizing it.

The problem is that too many people are being instilled with and instill in others, this notion that nothing in the last 50-200 years has changed. The media is the biggest culprit of this, and I mean big. Why do this? Cause normal life and positivity don’t make headlines. It doesn’t matter how many good deeds are done every day, how many times people stand up for someone else and say “hey, that’s not right”, or how many times its totally not necessary because people in this day and age have figured out how to take a subway and sit beside a person of a different race.

Everyone made a massive deal of Charlottesville, which, yeah, it was bad. It’s horrible to be confronted with the fact that some people still think that way and try to make others suffer. You know what though? If that was supposed to be the biggest gathering of white supremacists in decades... that was actually pretty sad. They had around 200 people? Yet there are approximately 323.1 million people in the US. They are outnumbered. Racism is alive, but it is sick and dying.

But really, the dwindling number of racists in America should not be the priority. Goodness knows, they’re not nearly as likely to repopulate as they are to grow up so either way, it’s a dying breed. What we should be concerned about is how we’re reacting to racism in a way that’s making it worse. Here’s what we’re doing wrong and it starts with the kids.

I’m going to use the most prominent racial division between Black and White Americans here. 

Black parents: Now, remember, because we’re black, life is gonna be harder for you than the white kids in your class just like black people in the past. White people might treat you different, they might say things that’ll hurt you. That’s just how it is, alright? Someday it’ll get better, but for now, keep an eye on them.

White parents: Now, remember, because we’re white, we have a responsibility to undo what other white people in the past have done. So you have to treat those black kids in your class extra careful, cause we don’t wanna offend them. They could get hurt by the things you say. That’s just how it is, alright? Someday it’ll get better, but for now, keep an eye on them.

And the kids grow up. The black kid has a few bad experience with white people, they stand out starkly in their mind because their attention has been drawn to it. Insults about their skin color whirl around in their memory. Racism makes them feel sick to their stomach so much that they speak out against the unfair treatment.   Fine.

The white kid has a few bad experiences with black people, they stand out starkly in their mind. Insults about their skin color whirl around in their memory. But they know they’re not supposed to say anything. After all, they’re white. They’re supposed to be the bigger person and let go of bad experiences that others might find offensive if brought up. After all, they hear black people speaking out against the unfair treatment so they figure it’s just their problem to deal with.

Welcome to the brand new form of racism. It’s the “pity” racism. It’s the “you poor uncivilized dears, you need all the help you can get and all of the participation trophies we can hand you cause goodness knows because of your skin color you could never win on your own” and it doesn’t help. Both types of racism are now clashing horribly but nothing is getting better for non-white Americans. 

It’s a balance that society hasn’t been able to handle. Either the white population despises other ethnicities and wants them to fail, or they helicopter parent them so they’re often doomed fail. When there are “quotas” on the percentages that universities and businesses must fill on members of other races, it’s turning human beings into objects and numbers and it’s a problem. (for another post).

If Racism is sick and dying of the cancer that it is, pity-racism is the tumor and it’s gotta go. If you really want the world to not judge anyone based on skin color, you cannot make a double standard.