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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

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I would really like to know how and why some of my fellow Brits have absorbed the whole "if none of us were any different (language/culture/identity) we would all understand each other better and it would be great" like my bro has said before that he thinks it would be better if only one language exists (I don't think he cares which one) I'm just ?????????? But we can try to understand each other without being the same?????

It's a dominant culture thing. A well-meaning, left-leaning one, but a dominant culture thing. This is a view held by people who don't feel any particular connection to their own culture or language, because it's dominant - it's 'default' and therefore universal and unremarkable.

This means they can't relate to the idea of belonging to your own cultural unit/sub-group. BUT:

It also goes hand in hand with being well-meaning, and left-leaning. They come from a dominant culture - meaning, one that gets imposed on others a lot, which they don't like. So they reject the notion of borders and nationhood and that, because to them, that's a negative, right wing, oppressive concept. It's in the name of nationalism that all the oppression happens; so nations are bad, right? Drawing divisions is bad, right? Dividing ourselves rather than all getting along is bad, right?

(Most famous example of this, by the way, is the song "Imagine". John Lennon was, for all his many and varied flaws, a well-intentioned man, who fell in love with an Asian woman and got subsequently FLOODED with racist abuse for it (as did Yoko Ono). He wrote "Imagine" partly as a response to that. No religion, no borders, no nations... no divisions to hate each other over. Just harmony and love.)

Seems nice, doesn't it?

But it ignores what everyone in a non-dominant culture knows and understands - that there's a difference between division and diversity, and that a single centralised authority ruling over all is Bad, Actually. People's needs go unnoticed. If you belong to a marginalised outgroup of some form, nationalism can have a great many positive benefits, because it's defending your culture and right to exist and giving you a voice that is otherwise lost. Why should we have a single homogenous culture? It'll never happen, regardless - that's not how humans work. Culture is literally the shared set of norms and values in a group. That will always adapt and change wherever there's a mass of people. And that is a good thing, because different perspectives are a good thing.

In fact, with regards to language, I always think a three-tier structure is what we need. I'm actually not against the concept of a lingua Franca, be it Esperanto or anything else. It would indeed be highly useful to have a global language for communication. But specifically for global communication - within a nation/cultural group/etc, you have the one(s) that's native to you and helps define you as a people, and then at a local level you have your dialect that unites you as neighbours. To me, for a healthy society, you need all three of those. (I have similar thoughts about currencies and economies but that is irrelevant here.)

Anyway, those are my personal thoughts, obvs

#asks #linguistics

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archivalofsins · 7 months

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Common Amane Innocent talk because no I won't shut up about her and nobody can fucking make me. Look at all the prisoners wielding weapons in the new minigram that they all have access to within the prison!

Scissors something everyone canonically has access to due to Amane's voice drama.

A fucking icepick?!

Why the hell is this here? Oh, the minigrams aren't canon, some will say. They aren't canon to the timeline we're in currently. However, the prisoners are still the prisoners, and they are still in Milgram. Also, Es has confirmed there is a supply closet with an unknown amount of items in it in Amane's second voice drama. All of these are things that would commonly be found in a supply closet or a toolbox that would also commonly be found in a supply closet. Explaining how they managed to fix the sprinklers and make sandbags when the water malfunctioned in that one minigram.

Literally, everyone here, including Shidou, has access to everyday tools that could be used as weapons. Which is fucking wild considering Mu is shown to kill someone with a box cutter that is shown to be a common everyday school supply she carries in her bag. Like everyone is literally screwed this intermission and voting anyone guilty twice in the hopes of getting them restrained could very well lead to that prisoners death.

It's important to think about both Amane and Mikoto's cases seriously.

Restraint doesn't just mean they can not hurt others but that they can not defend themselves as well. Something that is necessary for both of them as they've both had their safety threatened by Kotoko,

20/06/18

Amane: Thank you very much for teaching me. ……but, though I realise it’s strange me saying this after I asked you, I must admit it’s kind of unexpected. You give off the impression of someone who wouldn’t want to get involved in things like this.

Kotoko: ……well, you’re not wrong. I’m surrounded by people who could all be murderers, so I don’t plan on going out of my way to talk and make friends. I can’t let my guard down. But I like ambitious people like you. If you want to study more, then I’m happy to teach.

Amane: I see…… You look scary at first impression, but I quite like the way you treat everyone equally regardless of whether they’re older or younger than you. You don’t just treat me like a child or anything like that.

Kotoko: Treat you like a child? Hah, you’ve got to be kidding. Back when I was your age, I was already the person I am today. I don’t have any plans to let you get away with something just “because you’re a child.” ……remember that. There, I’ve finished marking. 83%. How do I put it… Even though you act like this, it’s not like you’re super brilliant at studying or anything, huh.

22/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Mikoto: Ah, Koto-chan. It’s been a while. Both of us have kinda split off from the group, but how’ve things been? A lot’s happened, but fr now let’s try to get along. I mean, it’s your birthday today, right? I got the feeling nobody else was going to do anything, so I came to celebrate.

Kotoko: ……how carefree. It doesn’t matter, a villain like you won’t be forgiven next time either. And when that time comes, it’ll be the end for you. I’ll make sure of it myself.

Mikoto: Ahh?? Just try and do it, you nutjob. I’ll crush anyone who hurts me…… You’re gonna be totally beaten at your own game……!

[TN: The word “me” here uses first person pronoun “boku”.]

Kotoko: Hm. The border between the two is getting a lot vaguer. Your entire existence is a crime. And I will see you’re punished for it. That is what Milgram, and Es, and I have chosen.

And, they are surrounded by multiple people who have been implied to have killed individuals their age. From the beginning of Milgram.

From Shidou saying it's fitting that a child would be the one to judge him in his first voice drama, seeing Haruka's statements on not being good with children Amane's age turning into I'm no longer afraid of children along with being visually shown his victim was a little girl. Combined with his statements regarding Amane in his first voice drama, it is implied that his victim was around or Amane's age. Kotoko jumps a guy who doesn't seem much younger or older than Mikoto and is shown attacking people older than herself. Everyone here has killed, and they all have access to weapons.

So, I find it very interesting to see who's treated as a threat and not by the fandom.

#milgram #amane momose #mikoto kayano

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 9 months

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Hello @anotherhumaninthisworld! I recently got into a debate with one of my classmates during our history class. My classmate accepts that the Thermidorians committed atrocities and quote, "Killed a bunch of people but so did Robespierre so they're both horrible". My classmate also says that "Since Robespierre justified the use of terror, he was a horrible person." He also states that Robespierre and the Jacobins committed unnecessary violence, that Robespierre's actions were similar to Hitler's, Robespierre and the radicals had created a totalitarian empire, and that the beheading of Louis XVI was unnecessary violence. He also states that Robespierre's beheading was ironic considering the thousands of people he had executed. He also says that Napoleon was better than Robespierre, and that Robespierre got corrupted during the Revolution. While I know many of these are Thermidorian Propaganda and outright false information, he also has skepticism towards Tumblr or anything else that doesn't state Robespierre was a dictator for resources. He says, quote "How did you know that he didn't commit unnecessary violence and wasn't a dictator?" Are there any primary sources or any historical evidence that can justify my counterargument? I apologize for such a long ask, and thank you so much for what you do here on Tumblr. ❤️

If you’re trying to debunk your classmate’s claims, then it’s a bit hard for me to offer any good primary sources/historical evidence, because most of his statements are subjective. Whether or not Robespierre was a horrible person for justifying the use of terror, Napoleon was better than him and the Jacobins committed unneccessary violence are all are based on our own personal sentiment, because there exists no way to objectively measure horribleness, goodness and usefulness. ”Robespierre’s actions were similar to Hitler’s” is in its turn a claim so vague that it’s probably true to some extent (both men killed in the name of a bigger cause?), but you could replace Hitler with almost any other leader and say the very same thing. All of this is not to say any of these statements are especially nuanced, but I don’t think they can be fully debunked as much as they can be elaborated on (is for example your friend aware that France was under the burden of not just being at war with most of Europe, but also uprisings and civil wars within its own borders by the time the jacobins used violence and Robespierre justified using terror, which, while not excusing their actions, at least contextualizes them?) The best resources for providing nuance and context I don’t think would be primary sources, which function the best when we talk about less broad questions, but instead secondary sources, AKA, books on the revolution written by historians. Which books are the most useful can of course be debated and we did discuss which ones we thought best for beginners on here in this post. Though if your classmate is automatically going to dismiss anything that doesn’t agree with his claims (even if it’s a book written by a professional) I’m afraid I don’t really know what to do here…

When it comes to the claim that Robespierre got corrupted during the Revolution, I have to ask what it is he’s referring to here. If what he means is that Robespierre got corrupted by money, then my answer would be that I, along with all historians I’ve so far looked at, have yet to find any proof of this having happened. And if that sounds like a weak counter argument, remember that the burden of proof always lies with the accuser. One does not assume that something exists until proven false, it’s the opposite way around. Do we know for sure Robespierre never took any bribes? No. Is it reasonable to assume he didn’t until proven otherwise? Yes. So maybe instead of trying to find evidence that Robespierre wasn’t corrupt (or rather absence of evidence), you should instead challange your classmate to hand you evidence that he was indeed corrupt. If what he means is that Robespierre got corrupted by power, then we’re back to the first section — this is not something that can be factually proven or disproven, because we don’t know what was going on in someone’s head 200 years ago.

As for the final question — ”How did you know that he didn't commit unnecessary violence and wasn't a dictator?" — you could bring up the fact that Robespierre never had an official dictator title, he was a member of a non-hierarchal twelve man committee that in its turn was part of a government body made up of approximately 750 people. To prove this, you could show your classmate the following decree founding said committee, dated April 6 1793, three months before Robespierre joined it:

1. There will be formed, by roll call, a Committee of Public Safety, composed of nine members of the National Convention.

2. This committee will deliberate in secret; it will be responsible for monitoring and accelerating the action of the administration entrusted to the provisional executive council, whose decrees it may even suspend when it believes them to be contrary to the national interest, on the condition of informing without delay the Convention.

3. It is authorized to take, in urgent circumstances, general external and internal defense measures; and its decrees, signed by the majority of its deliberative members, which cannot be less than two thirds, will be executed without delay by the provisional executive council. It may in no case issue arrest warrants, except against his executing agents, with the responsibility of reporting without delay to the Convention.

4. Every week it will write a general report on its operations and the situation of the Republic.

5. A register of all its deliberations will be kept.

6. The national treasury will remain independent from the committee, and subject to the immediate supervision of the Convention, following the method established by the decree.

This decree clearly shows the powers of the committee were not limitless, even if it should also be admitted said powers would be expanded upon over the following months, with the committee gaining the right to everything from issuing arrest warrants to conducting foreign policy. That said, all of its members still had to be monthly reelected by the Convention, which had the power to dismiss one if it saw fit. The committee’s work and Robespierre’s own share in it can be studied rather well through the twelve volume work Recueil des Actes du Comité de Salut Public, so that’s another primary source you could recommend for your classmate.

To your classmate’s defence, it should also be admitted that Robespierre at the time of ”the terror” was a highly (the most?) influencial politician, way more famous than the rest of his collegues, to the extent that the average Frenchman seems to have viewed Robespierre’s power as greater than it theoretically was supposed to be already before his death. It can also be proven Robespierre had people he had listed as ”good patriots” at the head of several important revolutionary institutions, something which we’re unable to do for his collegues. But power is still a tricky thing to measure so to say all these attributes add up to the powers of an unofficial dictator is still dubious. If your classmate won’t take some random tumblr user’s word for it (which I can understand), here are some historians and biographers (none of which I would call bias in Robespierre’s favor) saying the exact same thing:

Robespierre: first modern dictator (1931) by Ralph Korngold

Fatal Purity: Robespierre and the French Revolution (200) by Ruth Scurr

Robespierre Dictateur ? (2014) by Guillaume Mazeau

Robespierre (2014) by Hervé Leuwers

If your classmate insists this must only be a very small minority of historians, I would once again suggest he gives you the names of those arguing that Robespierre was indeed a dictator. And if he can’t do that, perhaps ask him why then he can still be so sure over this?

For the part about committing violence, I will admit, like I already wrote here, that, through primary sources, it can be proven that Robespierre did oversee and sanction state sponsored violence, even if, strictly and linguistically speaking, he never committed it himself (he could for example not personally order for a person to be executed). Whether or not said violence was unneccesary or not does again boil down to our personal opinions. This is a subjective question and therefore, in my view, not one that is worth arguing over.

And thank you 💚

#robespierre #maximilien robespierre #ask #analyzing statements that are unscientific but also so vague you’re left saying:#”well he’s sort of right if you look at in strictly this way” sure gave me a headache…#like what did i even write here…

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iridescentis · 1 year

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The Life Gods AU

This is basically like a full description of like the main pieces of my AU just so I have something to reference, I’m probably going to go back and edit this every now and then but it’ll just be here so I have some context to whatever I write for this (also so I can just get all of this out of my brain) So here we go!

The Life Gods AU is a version of the life series where the winner of each season/game becomes a God and is given the responsibility of writing the rules of the next game. God Grian wrote the rules of Last Life, God Scott wrote the rules of Double Life and God Pearl wrote the rules of Limited Life.

God Grian was given the first instructions by an unidentified voice, which told him what he was there to do and how he was supposed to do it. He then relayed that information to Scott and then to Pearl as they arrived. Nobody else has been given further instructions, but Pearl suspects that Grian is lying to them or at least hiding something from them since they haven’t heard anything.

None of the Life Gods know what will happen if they refuse to continue the cycle or break the rules.

The Gods

Each god is a preservation of their victorious self: Grian is his Third Life self, Scott is his Last Life self and so on. They retain all the memories of their previous games perfectly but do not receive the memories of their mortal selves who play further games. Grian’s powers are yellow, Scott’s are aqua, Pearl’s are red, and Martyn’s are green.

The powers they have are very vague, and they don’t know what extent they can be used for other than creating games.

The Players

The players are quite self explanatory, they are the characters we see playing the game. The gods still have mortal selves who continue to play the games, and nobody knows what will happen if one of them wins again. The mortals retain very blurry memories of their past lives – think how you recall your childhood; you see some images and you know which people wronged you, but you don’t really care to hold a grudge because it was so long ago. There isn’t much else to them, other than that they usually can’t hear spectators talking and do not know of the existence of their godly selves.

Spectators

Obviously, we all know that when the players permadie, they go into spectator mode and watch the remaining events unfurl from that perspective, often alongside their fellow dead players. That’s basically what spectators are – dead players. While the game is still running, spectators are able to roam within the borders wherever they want, floating through both air and ground. Spectators are entirely invisible to players and almost entirely transparent to other spectators, and shouldn’t can’t communicate with players. However, spectators can hear each other, and often communicate by following each other’s voices. Once the game is over and the winner has become a god, the gods transfer the spectators into their dormant room where they are put to sleep until the next game is ready to be played. To do this, the gods have to all be thinking of every single player at the same time, otherwise forgotten players can be left behind. Any spectators left in the overworld when the world is erased are freed and can roam through worlds as they please. In very rare circumstances, spectators who somehow refuse to be put to sleep and manage to escape the room can find themselves the same fate.

The Escaped

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for spectators to be lost, forgotten or to escape, releasing them into an in-between void that can be used to travel among servers and amass new levels of power, or to be found floating around the outskirts and be brought in. This refers to Lizzie, Mumbo, Ren and partially Skizzleman. Mumbo was found wondering lost in the void and so God Grian found him and brought him in as a player but lost him again pretty quickly. Lizzie was also found and lost this way, but across her void travels she learnt the ability to possess players from her new friend Gem, and the two of them briefly made an appearance without being caught. Skizzleman was briefly lost in the void, but he never ventured out, so he was easily brought back in. The one exception is Ren.

Ren is so far the only spectator who refused to be contained and escaped the games as a spectator and has been in control of himself ever since, despite still being in spectator form.

General Story So Far

When Pearl arrived, her original motivation was to destroy and put an end to the games. However, she was eventually talked down and created her game, Limited Life. She still stands by her beliefs that the games should be stopped but she hasn’t got enough power or information to go about doing that.

Then we have Martyn. Martyn, much like Pearl, immediately refused to be part of this cycle of games and pledged to never create another game, which Pearl is supporting. However, there is still a lot that he hasn’t let on – the fact he knew he was being spectated before the gods told him what spectators were? Or the fact that said spectator wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place, let alone communicate with a player?

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callofdooty · 1 year

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A Place To Get Away From All The Cold

A prompt fill I actually completed for Whumpuary 2023 - I did have a few others, but chances are I won't get them out by the end of the month. It's a miracle this one even got finished in time HAHA

For Whumpuary Prompts Hypothermia and "Stay with me"

Fandom: Call of Duty (Call of Duty: Ghosts)

Summary: Keegan ends up hypothermic and he goes through the five stages of grief from being cared for.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (Lots of cursing)

Relationships: Keegan P. Russ & Everyone, Implied Keegan/Ajax (Can be read as platonic or romantic)

Warnings/labels: Fluff & Angst, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts as Found Family, Self-Hatred, Inaccuracies in most fields, Hypothermia Whump,

Can also be read on ao3 here!

The point is, Keegan liked to at least believe he was pretty durable, as Elias once said. Operation Sand Viper taught him many things, and that just so happened to be one of them. Sure, he came out of it feeling like he was made of glass - weathered down, one wrong move away from shattering irreversibly - but looking back it’s… a reassurance. A sign that he could get through anything. They survived. Fifteen against hundreds.

Keegan has been through a lot of shit throughout his life. That’s no secret; not to anyone that spends 5 minutes within his presence and especially not to the people that have known him for much more than 5 minutes. He’s “impossibly tough” (thanks Rorke) and “disturbingly durable” (thanks Elias) both of which are products of him going through the various personal layers of Hell a little too early in his life.

Keegan was a survivor, a hardened soldier. He'd looked death in the face and he'd won.

Which is why it’s nothing short of mortifying to be in this situation. Hazy, confused and fucking cold. His shivers were bordering on violent, it’s a miracle his chattering teeth hadn’t bitten through his tongue yet. Simple things felt far too difficult; his usually sharp mind was well and truly dulled by the biting chill creeping through him. Of all the things, how the fuck was this the thing that overwhelmed him? Had him struggling to comprehend anything beyond the tremors barrelling through his body?

And the worst part? Rorke is the one bearing witness to his most pathetic display yet. He would’ve preferred anyone else, in all honesty. Even Merrick. Even Elias. Because while Merrick probably would’ve poked fun at his expense, and Elias would have - no doubt - gone into full “fatherly” mode, they wouldn’t really judge him for it. Or at least, Keegan didn’t think they would.

But Rorke? He’s... Well. Keegan wasn’t exactly sure what to make of him. The man was his captain; impressive, reliable but also downright terrifying. Keegan didn’t want to say he was a hardass per se, especially considering some of the other superior officers he’d met in his lifetime; but he definitely didn’t have the same tact that Elias did.

Rorke took shit very seriously, he expected the best - and only the best - out of them at all times. So him seeing Keegan at his worst? Seeing Keegan crumble over some chilly temperatures? Yeah, not exactly what Keegan would call ideal.

This was so stupid. So fucking embarrassing. Why did Rorke have to be the one to get a front row seat to this shit? If the abyss looked him dead in the eyes and threatened to banish him to an eternity of nothing right now, he would take it up on the offer in a heartbeat.

Actually, with the way he felt, the abyss might actually be here to do just that.

Fuck he was tired.

What was he thinking about again…?

There’s a light pressure on his wrist, right on his pulse point and then a faint muttering of expletives.

“Christ kid, you’re freezing.”

He sure is.

His eyes flutter open just barely, it almost surprises him how heavy his eyelids feel. Should they feel this heavy? He doesn’t think they should. Was opening his eyes always this hard?

“Y’seein’ me, Keegan?” Technically, yes he was. It's a little hard to focus but he can identify him well enough. He can’t even nod his head in reply, but the slight tilt must’ve been good enough. “Good. Stay with me, now.” the pressure on his wrist stays for a bit, until finally the captain moves to help him sit up.

There’s something almost funny about the way Rorke handles him. Almost like he’s trying to be gentle, though Keegan’s not sure he’d ever quite attribute such a word to Rorke of all people. It’s made quickly unfunny, however, when Rorke's jacket is gingerly shoved onto him, as well as the hat he was wearing. He was wearing his captain's jacket and beanie. Because he was beaten out by the weather.

At this rate he couldn't tell if the embarrassment or the bone-deep chill was more exhausting.

"We need to get you out of here. Think y'can stand?"

In Keegan’s defence, he did try. He tried his very fucking damndest to get his shaky legs to cooperate, but Rorke wasn’t having it, making him sit right back down after only a few seconds of watching him struggle. The apology he uttered under his breath barely caught Keegan’s notice before he was being (carefully) heaved up into Rorke’s arms.

If he didn’t wish for certain death before, he certainly did now.

Rorke seems to understand, and rumbles an apology again. Keegan just hopes he didn't unknowingly pull a face to garner such a reaction.

"Sorry, kid. It'll be faster this way anyway."

Perhaps luckily for him, the entire jourmey doesn’t exactly register in his memory. In fact, he’s pretty sure he ended up passing out at one point; one moment he’s staring blearily up at Rorke, and the next he’s suddenly coming-to in a helo, already curled into Ajax’s side with a comforting arm wrapped around his waist. No more biting winds to gnaw at him, but he still felt more akin to a popsicle than a person.

There's some muttering around him that he doesn't have the energy to decipher. A hand settles on the nape of his neck, and he follows it to a sympathetic-looking Merrick. The look in his eyes is nothing short of soft, and Keegan would've bashfully ducked out of its path, had the dumb bastard not opened his mouth to ruin it all.

“Not doin’ so hot, huh?” That fucking–

“‘Sshole.” Keegan grumbles, pressing closer to Ajax. Rorke’s chortling loudly from somewhere, which only furthers his annoyance. Ajax swats Merrick's side with the same hand he had around Keegan, though he was failing to hide his amusement.

"He just came back around, man, give him a break." The chiding only gets an indignant scoff out of Merrick before he shuffles up, now pressing Keegan between them as he threw his arm around him in a mirror of Ajax's. Surprisingly, it's kind of comfortable. A steady, warm presence on either side of him, protective in a sense. He could almost fall back asleep if it wasn't for Rorke's distant order to keep him awake.

Great.

"You okay?" Ajax asks more quietly now. There's not exactly room for a private conversation in this situation, but it's as close as they could get. Out of all the Ghosts, Ajax seemed to understand him the most; was always considerate of the fact that Keegan hated drawing attention to himself or got overwhelmed when too many people were focused on him. He'd lowered his voice, made a moment just for the two of them so he'd feel more comfortable to talk. Ajax was one of the few people to ever accomodate for him. It had his stomach flipping a little. No one had ever known him the way Ajax knew him.

"'m tired..." he mutters lowly, burying his face further into the other's shoulder with a sigh. Ajax's thumb starts to run up and down where it rested on his waist; a small gesture but it's soothing all the same.

"We'll be back and through medical before you know it," Right. Medical. He caught his frustrated huff before it could leave, burying his face more into Ajax's shoulder. Sleep is all he wanted right now, but that's the last thing he was going to get. He's allowed to be a little miffed about it, he thinks, but there's no need to get huffy to Ajax about it.

"Wanna play I Spy?" The sudden joking remark has Keegan grinning sleepily, unable to hold back the chuff of laughter that preceeded it.

"God no, please." He pleads in response, "Anything but that."

"I'm sure a refined gentleman of your tastes must prefer 20 Questions," Merrick supplies, joining in on the conversation now that it wasn't hushed.

"More like the Quiet Game." The resulting snort that gets out of Ajax is every bit worth it.

"He's saving 20 Questions for the medical team."

"Right, right, so you just played a real long game of I Spy with Rorke, yeah?"

"Oh my god,"

"You having fun over there boys?" Elias calls softly. Their heads snap up to look at him, startled out of their joking pretty quickly. Well. The other two had quick movements. Keegan could barely lift his head, but he still managed to look at Elias. All he does is give them a fond smile. "Good to see you more alert, Keegan. Had us worried for a while there."

Oh god, don't make him think about that. If there was one thing he was lacking, it was the mental energy he'd need to deal with everything that's happened in the past... However long. He's not exactly sure how long he was out for. Surely not more than a couple hours.

"Thank you, sir," he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Definitely... doing better now."

"Honestly kinda scared the shit out of me when Rorke carried you in." Ajax's brow creases, "Think that goes for all of us."

"I've never seen Rorke or Elias fuss over someone like that before." Merrick mutters quietly. He can tell it's Merrick's attempt at sparing Keegan a little of embarrassment, but he still feels his figurative hackles raise about it.

Jesus fucking Christ. Can they please not destroy the last of his dignity? A shaky sigh left him, frustration building in his chest. "Not my finest moment."

"We all have our moments Keegan." Elias placates him, voice firm and strong but in no way demeaning or condescending. It's one of the things he appreciates about him; preferring to strictly build others up, rather than burn them down and rely on the slim chance that they can find a phoenix in the ashes. "There's no shame in that." He's too tired (and too smart) to argue with that; though he still feels terrible, still sits uncomfortably with guilt and an unhealthy dash of self-hatred, there's no point to really put up a fight about it. He fucked up. It happens. And he'll just have to prove himself later.

'Turn the sting of survival into fuel for bettering yourself.' As Rorke had once told him. Fuck ups are dangerous, but getting through one intact almost always guarantees that you'll be improving. (Especially when you're on Rorke and Elias' team.)

He gives a small nod and rests himself against Ajax's shoulder again.

"Don't lose your head thinking about it now. We'll go through it once you're in the state to do so. Alright?"

"Yes, sir." Defeated. For now. He's sure this'll come back to haunt him for a while, but for now he'll try and let it rest, idly listening to the conversations that sprung up between his teamamtes, though it mostly ended up as background noise. As Ajax's head comes to rest on top of his (more comforting contact that he soaks up like a sponge) he starts going back into his own thoughts.

...He needs to figure out the least awkward way to give the hat and jacket back.

#keegan p russ #call of duty ghosts #hypothermia whump #elias walker #alex ajax johnson #gabriel rorke #thomas merrick #whump #fluff and angst #hurt/comfort #whumpuary2023 #whumpuaryno3 #self hatred #imagining the ghosts as found family is simultaneously self care and self destruction #found family

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myalchod · 1 year

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AU where Rose Harvey is both alive and well and still with Ben post-Aster Dell 😌

But is it really an AU? Is it really? I guess we'll never know. Thanks, showrunners. 😒

1. She knows there are things he saw during his time in Rosalind’s battalion that she won’t ever be able to understand, because she's been a soldier but the battalion was a different thing entirely. They'd always talked in the past, though, sharing as much as they could; that promise had been in their wedding vows, codifying something she'd always thought they were in perfect accord on ... but the man who comes back from the war is not the man who swore to always open his heart to her. (She is not sure if the woman he finds waiting is the same, either, though she does not examine that thought too closely.)

2. They had talked about having children when the war was over. Her pregnancy in its final years is unplanned, the failure you never think will happen to you of all people, and she thinks long and hard before deciding to keep it. The why is more complicated, a thing she isn't entirely sure she understands sometimes, but once she decides that is that, and she does not know if he is relieved or resentful when she leaves the front lines.

3. She has made herself a home and a life by the time he comes back, battered and bruised but with the truest wounds inside. There is space for herself and the son who clings to her leg and looks at him with uncomprehending eyes and the infant who does not know hands that had once been warm and steady and always so ready to reach. He tries to fit into it, and she tries to make space for him too, and for a few years it very nearly works. But their home is full of ghosts and secrets and unspoken wounds, hers as well as the multitudes that have followed him back, and by the end their fracturing feels all but inevitable.

4. “I’m your wife!” she all but screams at him, when he says that he can’t explain things to her for what feels like the hundredth, thousandth, millionth time. It would be easier, she thinks, if he were to explode in response and they could give vent to all that remains unspoken, but he only looks at her like some sad kicked animal and that just makes her more irritated in turn. How dare he, when she keeps reaching and reaching and he only withdraws into his secrets and into himself? She knows he is hurt, but what is she to do about it when he won’t let her in? (What is she to do when she has her own wounds and pain and scars and it feels like he doesn’t even see them? What is she to do when she shares a house and a family and a life with a stranger?)

5. “I still love the man I married,” is what she tells him when he finds her packing a bag, “but that's not the person I see in front of me — and I have to take care of myself, Ben. No one else here will do it.” (He has Farah and Saul, both as changed as he is, bound together in their shared secrets. She has no one within Alfea’s borders and she needs someone to turn to, someone who can help her find her footing again. She can’t wait any longer.) “I love you,” he says, like it can solve things, but she can see that he believes it as little as she does right now, no matter what they both might want. (She doesn't tell him that there are days when she looks in the mirror and doesn't recognise herself either. She may not have seen the same parts of the war that he did, but it left her no less changed.)

6. Distance helps. She has to be Rose before she can be anything else — before she can support anyone else — and without having to worry about what she is for others, she can for once focus on herself first of all. She hopes he can learn the same lesson, though she is doubtful when he remains trapped by a past he cannot seem to let go of. But, however much they both do or do not change, the space makes things easier for her, and for now, it’s what she needs.

7. There was a time when he had meant home to her, and she had been the same to him. She hopes, despite all that has happened, that some day she will be able to find her way back home again, whatever that ends up meaning.

[ ask me another ] [ all answers ]

#fate the winx saga #ftws #ben harvey #rose harvey #ben x rose #au headcanon meme #au: canon divergence #or rather:#maybe au because who the fuck knows what rose's status in canon is #yet another showrunner fail #don't ask me what this is #because as usual i don't even know #asked and answered #charis writes

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mental-illness-bingo · 1 year

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Content Warning: Venting about ableism against ADHD and Autism in a book; mentions of emotional abuse, repeated mentions of elitism within the autism community, "corrective" surgery for mental health disorders, demonizing of medication, encouraging young adults to refuse their medication etc. Note that I haven't finished the book yet, but I intend to, so I suppose it could get better, but what it's done already is abhorrent, and I'm grossed out.

Book in question: The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily by Laura Creedle

This. Book. Is. Killing. Me.

I saw this recommended as a "really good book about autism and ADHD" from someone but I *really* hate it so far (I'm on Chapter 27, about 2/3 way through the book) and it's honestly just blatantly ableist in so many ways. I do not know if Laura Creedle is autistic or has ADHD, but if so? Internalized ableism everywhere. If not then yet another neurotypical asshat who wrote an ableist ass book.

Context: Lily is diagnosed with ADHD and Abelard is diagnosed with "Asperger's".

And let's start there. This book was written in 2017, years after the switch from that N*zi doctor's name to Autism Spectrum Disorder. This is problem #1, and the reason is not that they use that word for it. I can and have enjoyed books while suspending my disbelief around the fact that they maybe didn't know because a significant number of people still don't in 2023.

However, Abelard is the poster child for elitism. He is this super smart kid who just so happens to have trouble with verbal conversation, being late, and sometimes being touched. He is worse than the savant trope because he is literally talked about like a genius. He is inhumanly good at chess, robotics, old literature, video games, just everything he touches, really. In fact, despite him supposedly having serious communication difficulties, when he is texting, he is suddenly able to communicate just like anyone else, with occasional long pauses between texts being the only issue he shows.

And his sole meltdown that has been shown is honestly so toxic and borders abusive to Lily. She is late to their date due to her ADHD, something any of us with it can relate to, and Abelard knows about her ADHD in advance as well as having had seen her symptoms multiple times in person. There is 0 way he didn't know about her having ADHD. Anyway, she's a little late (I think 20 minutes or something but I can't remember tbh with you) and he is visibly angry with her, and she immediately apologizes, explaining that her ADHD causes her issues being on time. Rather than be understanding of his girlfriend's disorder the way she has tried to be with his, he pretty much ignores her. His mother babies him about it, working on setting up everything for him and getting them into the movie wherein he seems to relax (but only after forcing his mother to go get popcorn right this instant because they're watching a movie and he needs popcorn). Then, after a bit, his father is trying to explain the movie to Lily and its history and Abe does NOT like people talking during movies. He yells at his dad, who continues to try and talk, and then has the meltdown in question. Lily tries to touch him to help comfort him and realizes immediately she shouldn't have when he makes a noise as though he is in pain. He begins slamming his head off the table, which is reasonably off putting to Lily, and she asks his father for help. His father mentions his mom would usually be here and that Lily "shouldn't have been late", basically accusing her of causing the meltdown even though he kept pushing when his son told him they were watching a movie. Lily panics and exits to the kitchen because she feels helpless and upset that she can't do anything for him.

All of this is relatively understandable behavior, I guess. I don't really love that he yelled at his father and mother both in this scene for normal things because it paints autistic people as unreasonable and irrational, but it is true that sometimes meltdowns are caused by people continually doing normal things that happen to really get under our skin. His parents should know his triggers and avoid pushing them because they are his parents. Lily, on the other hand, is a child and one with her own neurodivergent struggle, and should never in any way have been strapped with the blame both because it is not her job to tiptoe around a boy she has been dating for a few days with triggers no one warned her about, and because the issue at hand is a symptom of her own disorder and is equally as in her control as Abelard's reaction to her being late is in his.

BUT THEN while panicking in the kitchen, Lily breaks something on accident as she often does and tries to leave and Abe's mom makes a whole thing out of it. She becomes physically intimidating to Lily, smashing a glass on purpose to "help" the situation, which obviously makes Lily uncomfortable, and half-threatens her to go back into her son's room even though she wants to go. Throughout the entire next scene Lily mentions in her narration wanting to go home and while I think it's important that Lily learns coping skills outside of running away, it is equally within her right to be too stressed by Abe's reaction to her being late and choose to break up with him. Lily is not required to stay with Abe just because she's the only girl he has brought home, and intimidating her into staying is disgusting.

To Abe's credit, he mentions that his mother used his sob story to make Lily stay. Then he loses 100% of that credit in the most entitled scene I've read in a long time where Lily is pressured to not only stay in that house and in that relationship, but also promise to NEVER be late again even though it is a symptom of her own disorder. She mentions that this seems to be the only way to make him happy and that "promising to try harder is not enough". So, more or less, she is in a relationship where she cannot ever show symptoms of her disorder without him giving her the silent treatment, yelling at everyone around him, and smashing his head into a table.

No one ever mentions at any time during this or after that Abelard also should be learning positive coping skills or teaching her how to help with his meltdowns or anything like that. She should just be expected to never show a symptom of her own disorder so that he doesn't react in a very toxic/honestly kind of abusive way. Cannot stress enough that he does not treat her kindly again until she promises she will literally never be late ever again. Not try - NEVER late again.

Abe strongarms multiple people like this throughout the book. His mother with the popcorn, his father with talking during a movie, his robotics teacher where he literally stands there and repeats "I invited my girlfriend to robotics" over and over again until, despite safety concerns, the teacher gives up and allows Lily to stay if she signs a waiver (which she doesn't read and is not the legal age to sign anyway), and Lily when he wants to tell her something but tells her she is not allowed to speak until he has finished then gets visibly angry (as noted by Lily) when she answers a question he asked her out loud. His meltdowns are used as a threat of sorts to the people around him and a manner of controlling them. It is worth noting I have only in my entire life met one autistic person who did this and surprise surprise, they were abusive and had a history of using meltdown threats to R word multiple people. That is not autistic behavior. It is abuse being hidden behind the excuse of autism, and it's gross in every context, including this book.

So, onto Lily's ADHD. Lily is constantly breaking things, constantly late, runs out of any even slightly uncomfortable situation, does not care about the emotions of her mother or her sister, and is overall a really gross ADHD stereotype. But that's okay! Why? Because she will be fixed via corrective surgery. Yes, you read that right. But let's go into why medication didn't work for her first.

Lily lists throughout the book her hatred of her current and all past medications, of which there is a number she lost count of. Because the author treats this ADHD character like a goldfish who was just given access to a human body for the first time and therefore cannot remember anything (or walk two steps without smashing something valuable), that number could still be relatively small. The book doesn't treat it as a small number though, so we're going to assume she's tried most ADHD medications, and is currently taking an antidepressant as a manner of treating ADHD which is so far in the past as far as treatment goes that I don't even know which medication they're talking about.

The typical antidepressants (SSRI's) are not used to treat ADHD at all to my knowledge, and SSNRI's are only really used if every other form of ADHD medication has failed you and even then are rarely used as far as anyone I know with ADHD. Why? Because there are actual medications that help ADHD, and a good amount of them. Realistically, the concept that 0 of them worked for Lily is statistically improbable. The only antidepressant really used to treat ADHD actively is Bupropion, but the emotional blunting the surgeon Lily sees says is a side effect of her medication is not a side effect associated with Bupropion. In fact, Wellbutrin/Bupropion is often used for people either in combination with or as a replacement for other antidepressants to counteract the emotional blunting they cause.

The demonizing of medication in this book is dangerous. Lily hates every medication because all of them have stripped her of her ability to feel anything positive. The book does not mention any other ADHD character that tolerates medication well, or even speak about it as though it is just not working for her. It does not explain that if Lily went to the doctor and told them her side effects, that they would *immediately* taper and remove a medication that is causing emotional blunting and sui thoughts. The book doesn't mention that this is an abnormal side effect - in fact it's says it's a common side effect of antidepressants. It also treats medication as some sort of weird muzzle that is put on people with ADHD so their loved ones (in this case Lily's mom, sister, and teachers) can tolerate them. The book does not mention any positive effects of any medication for ADHD at all. I hate to think how many kids were made afraid of or resentful of their meds by this book.

The book details specific ways to avoid taking your medication, and even how to hide it so you can (tw sui mention) take them all with vodka to hurt yourself. This is not something Lily attempts in the book, but was just thinking about, and therefore did NOT need to be described in detail. The book even acts like sui watch is stupid and unnecessary, and does not detail the dangers if Lily were to take all of these medications at once with alcohol. So basically they wrote in a non-precautionary sui method for kids with ADHD that also involves months or years of medication non-compliance. Great. /sarcasm

But like I said, that's not the worst of it. What upset me enough to write this whole rant is the next part. Lily's mother finally giving up on the neurologists (which... weird because everyone I know with ADHD was treated by a psychiatrist not ever a neurologist), and going to a literal brain surgeon for some sort of electrodes to be placed in her brain that is supposed to permanently change how her synapses fire.

This is the ableist buffet, and for a while Lily feels the same and by a while I mean 2-4 pages. Then she decides that she will see the doctor if her Mom does something for her, and forgets all about the upset of having her mother feel the need to cure her.

In fact, when Lily meets the doctor, it takes him almost no time to convince her that she not only needs but also wants the corrective surgery, spouting about how she could go to college right now if she does it, when college would not have even been an option before.

It is gross on every single level and I looked up this surgery and ITS FAKE ITS NOT EVEN REAL. This author literally made up a fake corrective surgery for ADHD, I wanna puke.

I literally do not even want to read this for the story anymore I just have to know how much worse it can possibly get. If it's bad maybe I'll reblog and add on to this.

Edit: HOW could I possibly forget Lily's Dad? A total deadbeat who cheated on her mother and ran off to Portland, who was only able to interact with his daughter while actively drinking when he still lived with them, who is constantly switching what he wants to do in his life to the point that he can't hold a job, and who refuses to talk to let alone see either of his daughters in the years since he's been gone because he "can't keep a phone". And why is he like this? As the books tells you very explicitly about 2/3 of the way in, he is like this because he also has ADHD. Lovely. He had this apparently entirely inspired, amazing, never-been-done idea for his dissertation in college. But then he more or less got bored and overwhelmed with the idea so he just dropped it, left college and his family, and ran away to Portland. All because he has ADHD, because the author thinks that's what this disorder is - an inability to have any responsibility or finish anything ever no matter what it is or how important. The author treats ADHD like it's a lobotomy and I hate it here.

Maybe don't read The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily.

Edit: see reblog. It got so much worse, not better.

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kangaracha · 4 months

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NEVERMORE: MONSTERS & MOVEMENTS

the governmental and musical powers of the clé

Read the full version here.

Read NEVERMORE | Content List

STRAY KIDS & THE SIX

Throughout all of the Clé's living history, two forces have always been present; two groups, locked in eternal battle for control of the music of the Clé. They are called one at a time periodically, when the Miroh or the Clé itself gets bored or stagnant and needs to be moved again; each time another comes, it signifies the end of the reign of the former. The only time this has not happened was most recently, when The Six strove to stop the turnover of their reign and extend it past its ending point, spiralling the Clé into an era of blank, faceless art and soulless music, and eventually into time being frozen itself.

THE ISEKAI

The Isekai are the supporters of The Six, a nameless and faceless army that stands behind them. They are near-mythological within the Clé, particularly in Miroh - whether they are real people, or summoned into being out of someone's imagination, the regular people of the city cannot decide. The Isekai are responsible for a number of tasks across the Clé, from peacekeeping to the keeping of the ghosts in Injeon, to overseeing Geomijul and District 9, and whenever someone crosses The Six, they are there.

THE DOKKAEBI

A rebel organisation created in Miroh and Levanter, by a group of people enamoured with the hidden tales of the Clé before The Six came. Their purpose is to remove everyone from power and let the Clé itself become its own governing body again, even if this means a return to a more difficult and nomadic lifestyle in an ever-changing world, fighting against the tight control of The Six which keeps the Clé stable and allows life to run as it would in a 'normal' world outside of its borders.

The dokkaebi are viewed more as a nuisance than anything else by The Six, leading to them being named after a race of mythical, mischievous goblins. They were defeated in the past, when most of them were caught and the rest scattered across the Clé, forming small cells or living in isolation to avoid further punishment, which remains as their current state at the beginning of Nevermore.

SORIKKUN

Sorikkun is the superpower of the Clé, a word to describe people who have the ability to read or manipulate the world in some way. It manifests in many different ways, and sometimes isn't even noticed by the person who wields it; it is just a part of life, something that makes them stand out from the crowd a little more than others. It is tied to artistry, affecting musicians and artists and creators of different pieces of culture, those who already affect the world and the people around them with the skills they have.

GLITCHES

Glitches, simply, are people who cannot fit into the crowd. They are a type of sorikkun that is more common than the others. Where everything in the Clé moves to a rhythm, like a charmed snake or a sailor hearing a siren call, they move against it, creating their own burst of melody over the top of it. They are cursed to be individual and other, to float between worlds without ever being held by one, as no door can close to them, no ground can trick them into staying - and under the rule of The Six, they are cursed to be outsiders too, looked down upon and shunned as criminals by a society that no longer understands what their gift is for.

#stray kids #skzcu #nevermore #roo writes

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joeys-piano · 1 month

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Tagged by @voxofthevoid, who usually tags me in writing games when I feel a sort of way with my writing. It's happened twice so far, not including this time, so I feel something. I hope you don't mind the whiplash because I'm going off of my most recent works, and I've written for 5 different fandoms in the past 6 months.

Soft tagging: @fellshish, @sid3buns, @boinin, @kryptalia, @chenqing9, @heymacareyna

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

To the Marrow, To the Bone | Blue Lock

“Guys like us…” Isagi pauses, and then he swallows. “The only thing that makes it better is to win the game, and prove them wrong.” And to show them, he doesn’t say that but it’s evident at his mouth. Him pressing edges of a broken nail against his lips now to cool the sting, him pulling away as he’s out of bed to feel the world beneath his feet. “And there’s no other option – ”

But that’s not true.

He thinks one of his ribs has shrunken in, like a ball and chain for a smaller heart than the one fighting inside his chest. Because he breathes in—all he smells is a brand new football from a shelf. And it’s on his clothes, on his bed, on his pillow, within the padding, on the heavy lurch of him trying to walk, and irrefutably in his mouth. He can swipe it across his lips. It’s in his organs, blood and bones. It’s the cover box to a thousand puzzles pieced together when he’s on the pitch. Because in Blue Lock, you start in the middle. But in Ichinan you start at the edge, and once the border is in you build the next one as you meander towards the centre.

Where the Book Ends, It’s Hard to Say | OHSHC

And so it goes that every fairytale had a beginning, middle, and end.

The doors had opened; the doors were closed. The guests arrived; the guests were home. The play was had; the play was done. The hosts were princes, and now there were none.

As Fire Tempers Steel, So Too Does The Cloth | Blue Eye Samurai

Safer still was a battered inn, battered safekeep, a single room, about as wide as one tatami if someone lied to you about the length.

Behind the checkpoint to old Kyoto, these sprung up as the shrines do. Twenty steps in—there’s an inn. Upon thirty others—then there’s two. One could pilgrim the forty stations of rickety rooftops above their heads before every stray line turns to one. Old Kyoto, there at the end. If you can manage it: sunken floorboards, nothing softer than your flesh, a row of strangers sent to rooms where even two of you was just too much, and there is no guarantee you’ll survive here after a single meal off the bone, a missing coin or two, someone fights, pray the sutra: and survive the night. Yet safer still was to wake up with a stranger inside your breath, tongue for tongue trying to bite you before they lose you for a ghost; but even easier was to wake up beneath a cedar or its limb.

Buoyancy | Link Click

“I’m taller.”

“So you are.”

“And so are you.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Cheng Xiaoshi narrows his eyes. “We’ll be in and out before it rains.”

“Then after you,” Lu Guang tells him. There’s enough room to move around him. “Hold the umbrella.”

He lets go. But the touch of him still remains: the trace of his outline fades to nothing just as silently as he walks, but still is the warmest spot on his elbow—as far as Xiaoshi would’ve noticed.

Sasaki and Ogasawara Discover Friendship is a Beautiful Thing | Sasaki to Miyano

“So spill it. What are they like?”

“Cute.”

He considers. “Anything else?”

“Oh, the height difference.”

“Just call ’em short, man!”

Sasaki laughs. “That’s weird, huh?”

“Unbelievable…”

“Big wooooooorrrd, ’gasawara.”

“So y’think they’re cute – ”

“I know they’re cute.”

“ – and you’re into shorties.”

“Am I that tall?”

They’re about the same height while sitting down. And who gives a fuck, but he indulges him.

“So you’re Godzilla and have a crush on ’em.” He finishes the chickens without him choking, sparing the soggy ones into a corner for Sasaki to nibble on. “And like ’em so much you don’t wanna hurt ’em.” Between the nibbling, Sasaki nods. “So what else?”

Hostel | Trigun

He is a cruel man, Nicolas, to love the worst of him, Needle Noggin. And to say the worst of him is still as beautiful as this fucked up little world.

#joey speaks #tagged #tag game #I don't write as much dialogue anymore but I'm loving the sass that's coming through

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atlasscrumpit · 2 years

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Marc - Friends on the inside

Life was lonely, you weren't alone that was for sure but you were lonely.

You worked as a 'maid' inside a small village.

Well, a cult village run by the one and only Arthur. But you didn't really have anywhere else to go.

If you left this place you would be in danger. At least here you could get food and money and you thanked the gods that your scales had balanced and Arthur didn't kill you.

Another thing that made your life hard and another reason Arthur liked you was because you were mute. A long time ago you had an accident and it was either lose your voice or your life.

"Y/N, lovely to see you." You heard a voice say while you were hanging out the washing.

You turned around and smiled seeing Arthur. You waved at him making him smile.

"Are you having a good morning?" He asked as you nodded and hung out the last piece of clothing.

"I would like to talk to you about something. Join me for a walk?" He asked as you placed the basket down and nodded following behind him.

"Everyone within this village, as you would know, has tattoos on their wrists to unite us all. Would you be willing to do the same?" He asked as you thought for a bit.

To be honest you didn't really want to, but you were scared to say no.

"You can say no if you want, there's no pressure." He said as you stopped and looked at him.

'Can I have time to think about it?' You signed making him smile and nod.

"Of course you can, Y/N. You just let me know whenever you're ready." He said as you smiled and nodded, signing 'thank you' to him.

"Come join everyone for breakfast, dear."

After breakfast you helped clean up the tables before deciding to go for a walk around the village.

You often what would happen when Arthur succeeded in freeing Ammit, you knew you would be safe but so many others wouldn't be.

You sighed and sat down on a small bench just on the border of the village.

You were deep in thought when you saw a pair of men's shoes stop in front of you.

"It's not really safe around here." He said in an American accent as you looked up at him.

"Do you live here?" He asked as you nodded a little.

He glanced down at your wrist.

"No tattoo?" He asked making you feel uncomfortable.

Yet still you looked up at him and shook your head.

You slowly and cautiously stood up and backed away a bit.

"It's okay, I'm not here to cause any trouble. I'm just trying to get information on Arthur. I'm sure you know him." He said as you kept your head downcast and nodded.

"Are you able to talk?" He asked making you look up again and shake your head.

"I know sign language if you need to say anything." He offered as you nodded.

'Why are you here?' You asked as he smiled a little.

"Arthur isn't a good man and a lot of people are going to die if he succeeds. I serve Khonshu." He said as your eyes widened and you stepped back a bit.

'You're the moon knight.' You replied as he nodded.

"You don't need to be scared, I know Arthur has probably told you many things but I promise I won't hurt you. Are you follower of Ammit?" He asked as you glanced around to make sure there were no prying eyes or ears.

Once you were sure you were alone you shook your head.

"Why don't you leave?" He asked as you wrapped your arms around yourself and sighed.

'I'm not safe in the real world, here I can at least be fed and have a job.' You replied making him nod once more.

"Maybe we can help each other out. I can get you out of here and keep you safe, and in exchange you can help me get inside information on Arthur." He said as you glanced around once more, paranoid someone was listenin9gk.

Maybe you were insane but you looked will be into his eyes and nodded.

"Good, I'm Marc. What's your name?" He asked before you signed your name making him nod.

"Well, Y/N I'm looking forward to working with you. Just get whatever information you can get and write it down, I'll visit you each night." He said as you nodded and held out your hand for him to shake.

"I'll see you soon, Y/N."

You did your usual jobs around the village but made sure to stay around Arthur when he would have 'meetings.'

You kept a notebook with you at all times and would write down everything you would hear.

When you would get back to your room you would write it out again so you could give it to Marc.

You secured it in a letter and put it under your pillow before sleeping.

You woke up a few hours later feeling someone shake you softly.

You rubbed your eyes and opened them to see it was Marc in the moon knight costume.

You reached under your pillow and handed him the letter as he nodded.

"Thank you, Y/N. I'll see you same time tomorrow."

You continued on for about two weeks, giving Marc the information he needed.

But you knew eventually it would come to an end.

Marc came into your room like he normally did, but he found your bed empty.

He immediately knew Arthur had found out about his scheme.

He went back outside and entered into the main hall where he saw you gagged and tied to a chair with Arthur and two guards behind you.

"Let her go, she hasn't go anything to do with this." He growled as Arthur chuckled.

"I suppose the scales can be wrong sometimes. Y/N's were balanced, but yet here she is betraying me." Arthur said as you bowed your head and felt tears in your eyes.

"It's okay, Y/N. We have a deal and I won't go back on it." Marc said as you looked up at him.

"I really wish I didn't have to do this." Arthur said as you felt the barrel of a gun press to your skull. You closed your eyes and cried silently.

Marc acted quickly and killed both guards. You got up still tied to the chair and knocked Arthur over.

You also fell to the ground and Marc ran over to untie you.

You got up and he was about to kill Arthur before you stopped him and shook your head.

But Marc couldn't leave without anything, he slashed Arthur's leg open before grabbing you in his arms and running away.

You'd made it back to Marc's apartment and you sat on one of his couches trying to think.

"Did he hurt you?" Marc asked as the suit retracted.

You looked up and shook your head. You couldn't help but let tears fall from your eyes.

Marc leant down in front of you and looked at you.

"You did well, Y/N. You can stay here, I'll keep you safe. Or I should say we will." He said as you nodded.

'Arthur told me you have dissociative identity disorder.' You signed as he nodded and smiled.

"Well, Steven and Jake will be glad to keep you safe too." He said reaching forward to hold your cheek gently.

You smiled, leaning into his hand.

You hadn't felt affection in a long time.

And Marc hadn't felt attached to someone in a long time. Maybe it was Steven rubbing off on him but he just wanted to wrap you up and give you a cup of tea.

"You're safe now."

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marvel #mcu #Marc Spector x reader #Moon knight x reader #Ammit #Arthur harrow #Khonshu

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chickenparm · 2 years

Note

... OK fine that last one wasn't a real prompt

Pagan Min pretending to be completely oblivious to the EFFECT he has on Reader while teasing her/them mercilessly?

OH BOY OH MAN i've never written pagan before so i don't know how much justice i'm about to do, but god willing i'll do my best for you. also this is like 1k words cause i don't think i could squeeze all i want in just 500 oops

---

Paul himself had been very frank with you. More candid than he’d ever been, as few as those times speaking with one another had been.

“He’s very particular. You understand? Do exactly as he says, as he wants, and you’ll be fine.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but an uneasiness settles in your bones as the minutes pass, and you’re left alone in the kitchens, waiting for Pagan Min to make his appearance and potential demands.

You’re under absolutely no illusions that Paul would protect you if something were to go wrong. While you have a particular set of skills that he enjoys and values, they’re not something that can’t be found in any number of other people. You just happened to be convenient and within arm’s reach.

Listening carefully for any sound of footsteps, you let yourself relax enough to inch toward the only source of warmth in the room - the lit fire. Holding your hands close enough that the heat borders just on the edge of crisping your edges, you take a moment to gather yourself back into some semblance of composure.

“It’s just Pagan Min.” Turning your palms toward yourself to warm the backs of your fingers, you exercise a futile attempt at self comforting. “He’s just a man. A stylish man, but just a man.”

“Style is subjective; all in the eyes of the beholder.”

Your blood freezes all over again, the chilled air is no match for the drop in temperature that comes with his arrival.

“If we’re going to be trading compliments, I’m a fan of the… shabby-chic aesthetic that you’re maintaining here.” Footsteps that are no longer silent round the long table in the center of the room. Effortlessly, he rounds a corner that you often stumble over in your hastiness. From the corner of your eye, you spot pink.

“Pagan Min. Stylish man, ruthless tyrant, and apparently now some form of gorgon, considering you refuse to look at me.”

He doesn’t get to finish tsking at you before you snap your head in his direction and take in a sight you’ve only ever gotten to witness on static-filled television screens. There’s boundless amusement and not much else, and while you’ve never been good at reading people, even you can tell that the lack of further emotion is deliberate. A mask.

Dark eyes flit through the room, taking in the prep table, the shelving, the stove and oven that you’re leaning dangerously close to. And for a moment, the smallest bolt of shame shoots through you before you realize that you’ve never had control over your workspace. Nor have you had any pride.

With a gloved hand plucking at his lower lip absently, Pagan seems to take mental notes of anything and everything. From the peeling plaster to the dented wok, nothing escapes his notice. It barely registers to you as you fall into a trance thanks to the pink of his lip. Even in the low light, it shines. You’re almost certain he’s wearing some type of balm to combat the chilly winds.

It snaps back into place as he pulls his hand away, and you frantically look down at his shoes in favor of being caught by his knowing eyes. Though, you understand well enough that he had to know what you were thinking. The way your shoulders hunch speak a thousand words.

Pagan’s shoes are shined, unsullied, and more than likely new. Suddenly, they’re the most interesting in the world for the span of time it takes him to snap his fingers and regain your attention all over again. As if he’d ever lost it.

“Skittish little thing, aren’t you?”

That gloved hand glides along the well-worn tabletop before it plants firmly and supports his leaning weight. One ankle crosses over the other and all at once he’s smooth lines that are accentuated by a cocked hip and the light of the fire dancing across impossibly high cheekbones. You’re enraptured, and by the way his eyes wander over your shoulder, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

You’re not sure which you’d prefer.

Abandoning your personal space, Pagan rounds the table again in favor of moving across the room to where he’d been staring over your shoulder. It’s obvious where he’s headed, considering not much is over there beyond a few covered bowls kept close to the open window to keep them fresh for dinner later this evening.

Methodically, he checks each bowl one by one, examining what’s there before covering them exactly how’d you had them before his meddling, then moving to the next. One in particular catches his eye as he lifts the fabric covering it.

Turned away, you can’t see his expression, but a pleased sound leaves him - low, gravelly, straight to somewhere you desperately didn’t want to encourage at a time like this. You’ve heard fear can enhance these sorts of things, but this is too much. Too inappropriate.

But even his excitement is making your very bones vibrate at a harmonic resonance, like you want to share in it for just a moment. With all your willpower, you refuse yourself the honor. It’s not your place, and while Paul had said to only do as Pagan instructed, you had a feeling that there was something unspoken there about not wanting to sprawl across this table-top and make every attempt at seduction.

Any shoring of your perverse feelings is swept away when he sweeps his index finger through the contents of the bowl and brings it to his lips. Again he hums, through his nose but it comes from deep in his chest. His satisfaction is undeniable, and you’re frantically cataloging the two back-to-back sounds you’ve been gifted, however undeliberate they might have been.

His jaw works as his tongue cleans the digit thoroughly of the filling you’d be using that evening. There’s a wet sound as he pulls it from his lips, then turns to you with a knife-like smile, almost sly in nature. “This rangoon will be something to die for.”

#pagan min #fc4 #far cry 4 #drabble #request #pagan min x reader

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jacensolodjo · 2 years

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First gen Russian American here….. would you have any advice on how I can help?? I know it’s useless to sit around and feel guilty. I hate the war and Putin, but I don’t want to feel like the sin-eater for all this. It feels stupid to say stuff like “I’m one of the good ones, though!”

Slava Ukraini <3

The only advice I can offer is what I offer everyone because it really is within most peoples' ability. Even if I do agonize about not being able to do more due to distance/physical ability/budgeting. It has been an almost sacred duty of the diaspora to record and redistribute information. No matter which side of the border one's family is from.

As I've said, one of the huge problems with people (read: Russians) I come into contact with (second hand or otherwise) regardless of where they live or how far removed from the Motherland they are tends to be they keep quiet. No one is going around demanding Russians give their opinion on the war at first blush, but it can be telling if we've seen people talk about everything else politics but are suspiciously silent about this. As the saying goes, remaining silent is support for the oppressor and has never once helped the oppressed.

People too often underestimate what word of mouth can do. Ukrainian diaspora newspapers and rallies and fundraising brought attention to the Holodomor and helped big time ending it before it could happen for longer than a year. Every Holocaust museum in the world emphasizes that we must know what happened then so we can know the signs so we don't repeat it. Words can stop a war just as easily as a weapon.

I won't blow smoke up your ass about how thankful people will be. And yes, I will say as nicely as possible that guilt is not the best elevator pitch nor do you want to fall into the trap of trying to apologize for your group identity or separate yourself from it as all it then does is focus more on you and your feelings rather than bringing attention to the injustice itself. All you can do is be sincere, and know you're sincere and you should exercise your freedom to record and amplify our voices, not talk over. In this situation, we're the marginalized and you, regardless of your own opinions on things or where you actually live, are part of the oppressor group. This is not a slur, nor an insult. It is simply a fact same as it is a fact that I can't be anything BUT a Ukrainian-American as these are immutable properties.

But in some cases, non-Ukr voices especially Russian can have a stronger effect than when we try to speak about it. That is the power and the flaw, a la Captain Janeway's words, of oppressor vs oppressed. Which is thus how we get to history is written by the winners. I will say that you also need to be sure to read the room and people are well within their rights to prefer to have a space that is for Ukrainians only. If they know there’s a Russian there it can get uncomfortable if not borderline-triggering as they may end up waiting for some pro-war outburst or some such thing as some do pretend to be sympathetic but then later their true colors show, as it is what has happened to numerous families who have russian branches wherein that branch of the family suddenly starts flinging propaganda in their ukr family branch’s faces.

But yeah. Essentially: do far more listening than talking. Redistribute/Reblog/Retweet what we say (after doing the proper fact checking of course as there are some folks who may say the right thing for like the first paragraph and then just go off the fucking rails counting on people to just not have the time to read thru carefully). Use your privilege for good rather than evil or apathy. And this all goes for everyone. But yes, if you're able you should donate or at least boost info on various charities such as the fundraiser for the Ukrainian Army as well as HIAS which helps predominantly Jewish refugees but extends to non-Jews as well.

#war in ukraine related #the wolf howls #old wolf howls at shadows #текст

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unvergangliche · 7 months

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unvergänglich.

WHY ? THEY BEGIN TO OVERFLOW . . .

[ˈʊnfɛrˌgɛŋlɪç; ˌʊnfɛrˈgɛŋlɪç] adj . everlasting, unfadying, undying.

independent frieren from sousou no frieren / frieren: beyond journey's end. penned by lily 25+ / selective, small, and attempting to be spoiler free.

RULES .

mun is over 25 / minors and non rp-blogs do not interact.

any spoilers will be tagged 'frieren spoilers' . mun has finished the manga as it updates as of now , so she'll default her verse to early main storyline and once more active, divide it into the story arcs thus far !

manga psd made by me, please do not steal, coloring psd made by animangacaps , while any other graphics on this blog were made by me as the manga ones were . border header by petra-rals , divider by @cafekitsune !

standard procedure, no info-modding or god-modding, frieren is a legendary mage of immense power and knowledge presently over one thousand years old. she is incredibly dangerous, incredibly lazy, but at the end of the day she is unbelievably powerful. proceed with caution if you're set on fighting her, as i tend to avoid fight threads, the odds are unlikely anyway given her lazy nature but still. she is incredibly wise and silly at the same time , callous and surprisingly thoughtful ( sometimes) and as her ‘time’ moves so much slower than other people, my writing aims to reflect that.

this rule of my boundaries set also applies to drama , callouts , and vague-posting. alongside homophobia / transphobia / racism and any form of unkind , inhumane conduct or bigotry will not be tolerated here. kindness will, but immaturity and cruel behavior will not.

while not unkillable, all fight scenes or conflict i'd like to plot out with you via primarily dms / my inbox as for now my ims are broken ! frieren can lose in a fight, as mentioned by frieren herself that in her lifespan she's lost at least eleven times , that said, with her hunger for more spells and grimoires, she will only increase in knowledge .

as i continue exploring frieren, which is a very low key blog, expect slow replies please, and be patient as i will be with you, this is a very easygoing paced space! :) ! that said i will never pressure you into replies, so please go at your own pace too ! in terms of writing length, i tend to match my partner but have no real expectation of length or quantity as long as my passion is matched and i have something to work with. i am perfectly fine winging it and plotting just as much.

at some point, i will be adding verses ex: wha, clamp, mahoyome, ex, series not part of her canon . as of now i am only writing within her own universe , so please be patient with me as i explore her unique character .

as far as ‘ shipping ‘ goes, the likelihood is nonexistent due to how frieren processes time, her own near immortal lifespan, and frieren herself. i feel sousou no frieren also is more heavy on the emphasis of the bonds of platonic and familial carry many of her new and old relationships. if it happens romantically (?), it's gonna be v rare, v plotted, and another 50 years long, and the only 'ship' i really see would ship is frieren / himmel . tl;dr: it's not the focus.

i do not reflect nor represent frieren , we are two different people, one fictional with her own set of actions and mindsets i don't echo as a person mun and muse are separate packages , my only goal is to write my own insight and thoughts from my vantage point to the best of my ability to do frieren justice in my own way.

i can't really think of anything else right now, but thanks a ton for reading ! can't wait to interact with you .

HEY , CAN I REMEMBER JUST FOR TODAY ?

#𝐏𝐒𝐀. | now is all there is.#𝐎𝐎𝐂. | all the time in the world.

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 2 years

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No Shortage of Sordid

Janus blamed himself.

He knew better than anyone in the house how dangerous it was, having him around. Not because he might hurt one of them, but because he was valuable. And there were hunters out there who made a living on the argument that, no matter how much human a monster might have in them, monsters were monsters.

(or: when Janus is kidnapped by poachers, his new family stops at nothing to bring him back home.)

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Ambush

Word Count: 6652

Warnings: Kidnapping, Captivity, Blood and Violence, Depictions of Injury, Human Trafficking (they’re magical creatures, so kind of?), Angst (with a happy ending)

AO3 Link: [here]

The teeth of a werewolf could be sold for 50 to 75 gold pieces each. The claws, if taken from a healthy wolf, could net about 200. The eyes were difficult to harvest and even more difficult to sell, but the right customer would be willing to pay upwards of 500 per eye. A full pelt, removed with care, would have many offers within the 2000 to 3000 range.

And a fresh, still-beating wolf's heart?

Well. If you survived long enough to sell it, you would never have to work again.

Janus blamed himself.

He knew better than anyone in the house how dangerous it was, having him around. Not because he might hurt one of them- the wolf only stole control away from the man when you tried to suppress it, and he and the wolf had come to an agreement years ago- but because he was valuable. And there were hunters out there who made a living on the argument that, no matter how much human a monster might have in them, monsters were monsters.

The town was far away from any of the major cities, sitting just within the kingdom’s borders, and backed by a vast, fey-touched forest. The people here were wary but not nosy. They knew to look the other way when they saw something strange. To leave it alone, and hope whatever it was, it would simply pass them by. Janus understood why this strange family that Roman and Remus had amassed lived here, of all places. People left them alone.

They left Janus alone, too, once the novelty of a new face had worn off.

And Janus got complacent.

“I’m so excited for apple season,” Patton giggled. He shook his basket, which contained a positively ridiculous amount of apples from the market, and gave Janus a wide smile. “I’m gonna make so many pies! Oh, and I hope you like fresh apple cider.” “I’ve almost exclusively eaten raw meat for the last twenty years,” Janus mused. “I will like anything you make, Patton.”

“I’m just so excited to have someone else around who likes sweets as much as I do!”

Janus glanced pointedly down at the three sacks of sugar he was carrying. “I can see that,” he laughed.

And then the arrow struck, and Patton screamed.

[continue on AO3]

#kye does bad things happen bingo #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #kye writes

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michaelmilligan · 2 years

Text

Endversetober Day 18: Supplies

(explanation post) (compilation post)

For some reason, Adam had thought that archangels could just turn back time whenever they wanted, or at least send messages back to change the timeline by themselves, using nothing but their own powers.

He'd been wrong.

There were actually a bunch of things they needed to do the latter, including the tear of a unicorn and papyrus made from Egyptian paper plant. They'd just gotten the former and were now on route to getting the latter.

Adam had been mostly silent since they'd witnessed the angelic devastation, but now he spoke up.

I can't believe you punched that unicorn.

Where usually, there would have been a storm of a sigh knocking Adam over, now there was just a breeze, rustling around him sombrely.

I HAD TO MAKE IT CRY SOMEHOW. WHAT ELSE SHOULD I HAVE DONE?

I don't know. Tell it that its dad never loved it?

Michael seemed to think about it. AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER?

Adam sighed, now. I don't understand all these ingredients, anyway. Like. Egyptian papyrus? Okay, does that mean this thing has only ever worked since Egypt existed? Does it have to be from within the confines of what is Egypt today, or does it depend on what was considered to be Egyptian lands at some specific point in time?

IT'S COMPLICATED, Michael said curtly.

Great. Just great.

But surprisingly, Michael then offered more information, all by himself: THESE KINDS OF THINGS WORK NOT BECAUSE YOU USE SPECIFIC INGREDIENTS, BUT BECAUSE THE THINGS YOU USE HAVE A SPECIFIC MEANING. AND MEANING IS POWER, OR AT LEAST CAN BE USED IN THAT WAY.

Awesome. That didn't clear up anything.

So it doesn't actually matter if it's from Egypt? Adam asked tiredly.

OF COURSE IT MATTERS. THE EGYPTIAN EMPIRE STILL HOLDS MUCH MEANING, EVEN IF IT NO LONGER EXISTS INT HE WAY IT USED TO – OR NEVER ACTUALLY EXISTED THAT WAY.

Never actually- are you telling me Ancient Egypt is a myth? Who built those pyramids then, aliens?

ONCE AGAIN, YOU MISUNDERSTAND ME. EGYPT HAS EXISTED IN A VARIETY OF FORMS OVER A SUBSTANTIAL PERIOD OF TIME. AT LEAST SUBSTANTIAL FOR HUMANITY. BUT THE WAY IT HOLDS MEANING NOWADAYS ONLY HAS MARGINALLY TO DO WITH WHERE ITS BORDERS WHERE OR WHAT THE CIVILIZATION WAS ACTUALLY LIKE.

THE DEFINITION OF THINGS, EVEN COUNTRIES, SHIFTS OVER TIME. THE PERCEPTION OF PLACES AND CULTURES IS ALSO NEVER STATIC. WHAT MATTERS IS THAT WHEN THE INGREDIENTS ARE USED, THEY ARE CONSIDERED TO BE MYSTICAL AND POWERFUL BY A GOOD NUMBER OF PEOPLE.

IT WOULDN'T HAVE TO BE PAPYRUS FROM EGYPT, REALLY. WE MIGHT AS WELL USE AN OLD WRITING IMPLEMENT FROM CHINA. OR A SLATE OF STONE AND A CHISEL FROM AROUND MOUNT SINAI.

So why aren't we using those?

They had been tracking along a river for a while now, and finally Michael stopped next to what looked at first glance like tall weeds, but were probably the paper plants they needed. With ease, Michael pulled a few of the plants out from the muddy ground, roots and all.

THIS IS EASIER. MAKING PAPYRUS ISN'T ALL THAT DIFFICULT, AND INGREDIENTS WORK BEST IF THEY'RE HANDCRAFTED.

That made an odd and somewhat inexplicable kind of sense.

For a while, Adam just watched as Michael cut the plants into thin stripes, lay them out to form a sheet on dry ground, and pressed them.

It's peaceful here, Adam eventually remarked, bored of the wind and the sound of Michael working being the only things he heard.

IT MIGHT SEEM LIKE THAT, BUT THERE'S A TOWN JUST A FEW MILES FROM HERE THAT WAS RAVAGED LAST NIGHT. THEY SEEM TO HAVE BURNED OUT EVERY LAST ZOMBIE, BUT ALSO EVERY OTHER SIGN OF LIFE.

Why are they doing this? Adam wondered, a hushed whisper against Michael's still eerily quiet grace.

I DON'T KNOW, Michael said, picking up his make-shift sheet to soak it in the river. ANGER. HATRED. THEY SEEM TO BE IN A FRENZY, MAYBE BECAUSE... He trailed off.

Because what? Adam asked anxiously.

THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY, BEFORE THESE ATTACKS STARTED HAPPENING... DEAN DIED. SOME ANGELS SAW IT.

Who?

… YOUR BROTHER. DEAN WINCHESTER.

Oh, right. That guy.

Once upon a time, Adam had wished for siblings. But if their stubbornness was what brought about the zombie apocalypse, just because they didn't want to let an archangel hitch-hike in their body for a couple days... Maybe it was better that he'd never met them.

Granted, it may be a little unfair to blame that Dean guy for the fact that the angels had apparently decided to make this timeline his own personal hell. But it wasn't like he'd given them much choice, what with him denying God's plan and everything.

So, Adam said, pulling himself out of his musings. How long does that have to soak?

Michael looked down at the papyrus in the water. ONLY ABOUT A DAY. MAYBE A LITTLE MORE.

A whole day? Ugh, I'm gonna shoot myself.

YOU'RE BEING OVERLY DRAMATIC. AND YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A GUN.

Well, I wish I did.

I'LL MAKE SURE YOU WON'T GET ONE.

Meanie.

ME- DID YOU JUST CALL ME- OH, COME ON. YOU THREATENED TO KILL YOURSELF!

Oh, so what now? 'Friends don't let friends shoot themselves in the face'?

… FRIENDS?

The obvious confusion in Michael's voice made Adam huff and turn his attention back to the papyrus. If we're just gonna wait here, I'm gonna sing for a bit, he threatened.

KNOCK YOURSELF OUT.

Oh, I can knock myself out, but not shoot myself?

… DON'T PUSH IT, KID.

Despite himself, Adam laughed. And promptly started singing: So no one told you life was gonna be this way~

At the same time, in another place, three people stumbled into a camp that had recently lost its leader and many of its best soldiers. To say it was in disarray would have been the understatement of the century, though the newcomers couldn't know this yet.

There was a kid among them, maybe nineteen years old, and shaking like a brittle leaf in the wind. The older woman who looked much like him and would turn out to be his mother was holding a shotgun, determination on her face. The older guy who was with them also carried a weapon, though he seemed a bit more weary.

When the provisional leader of Camp Chitaqua stepped forward to greet them, the guy nodded at them.

“I'm Rufus,” he said, then gestured to his compatriots. “These are Linda and Kevin. We heard you guys were holding out here, and we want in.”

#Endversetober #Midam #Quick writing

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