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volkswagonblues · 3 years

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a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks.

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim)

(note: #2: I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15.

From My Asakusa:

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master)

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine.

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this:

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology.

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

#Avatar The Last Airbender #zukka #atla fic #my fic #fire nation

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axwalker · 3 years

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If The World Was Ending: Even if he was wicked

Synopsis: When Bianca leaves her son without looking back, Drake has to live on the streets until he finds a home with Angelica Ortiz--Lexie’s grandmother and a foster mom. With the Ortiz, Drake finds a family and falls madly in love, until a tragic night changes everything, threatening the life Drake fought so hard to get.

To catch up (HERE)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Lexie O’Brien (MC) The Royal Romance.

A/N: This will be a very angsty, full of drama, small town romance.

Words: 4,120

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Lexie’s grandmother and mother.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, prison and a very entitled, “evil” Liam

Due to the several trigger warnings and some of the subjects I’ll be dealing with, I will only tag people who actively asked for it. If you want to be tagged in the following chapters --or untagged, please leave a comment.

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah.

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else.

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway.

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn.

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it.

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug.

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.”

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily.

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room.

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart.

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.”

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great.

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ”

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not.

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?”

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.”

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough.

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.”

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. “Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.”

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in.

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen.

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.”

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.”

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch.

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?”

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.”

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything.

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself.

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree.

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend.

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded.

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.”

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath.

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again.

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.”

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up.

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.”

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going."

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway."

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked.

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died.

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.”

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway."

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why.

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?”

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.”

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called.

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.”

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen.

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?”

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.”

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.”

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid.

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies.

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.”

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.”

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected.

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.”

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger.

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.”

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot.

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand.

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here.

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on.

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life.

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that.

Tagging:

@mskaneko

@burnsoslow

@kingliam2019

@kat-tia801

@petiteboheme

@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

@forallthatitsworth

@marshmallowsandfire

@marshmallowsaremyfavorite

@princessleac1

@lilacsandwhiskey

@lovingchoices14

@nomadics-stuff

#tw child neglect #tw child abandonment #tw children #tw child labor #axwalker writes #drake walker #drake walker fanfic #drake x mc #drake x lexie #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic

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scithemodestmermaid · 4 years

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i don’t think tlou2 is supposed to make me angry. at least, not in the way that i’m getting angry.

and now im going to rant about a game i’m only experiencing second-hand, but after this i’m done. i refuse to discuss this game or think about it any longer.

i’ve seen my share of emotionally manipulative videogames, but this is the first time i’ve ever seen an emotionally abusive videogame. like, it is blatantly tricking people into thinking and feeling certain things about characters, even when in-game evidence points to the contrary. “yes, abby does bad things, but she really is a good person!” “she inflicts as much pain as possible, feels no mercy for those she hurts or kills, and revels in the idea of slashing a pregnant woman’s neck.” “yeah, but ellie’s been going around killing dogs and people all for petty revenge!” “abby’s desire for petty revenge is what started this mess, and those dogs were obviously trained to attack people on command so ellie had no choice but to defend herself, and began to feel sincere regret when she realized that the people she was killing were, indeed, people. abby never feltt that.” “NO. You will feel SORRY for abby and you will DESPISE ellie.” this cycle just keeps going. the game tries to force you to feel what it wants you to feel. which is ironic, considering it wants to believe its high art. i mean, the whole point of art is that you come up with your own interpretations with what you’ve witnessed.

and where does druckmann get off complaining about sexual objectification of women in other games while also reveling in a woman having anal intercourse (which, I feel i should mention, the man involved is drunk and she’s sober. reverse the genders and suddenly you’ve got a controversy and a cancel party on your hands, I DESPISE THIS DOUBLE STANDARD), two women passionately kissing and laying together in their underwear, and ogling ellie’s naked and scarred back? and that whole “i didn’t want the violence to be sexy at all” statement is creepy on its own, but coupled with the fetishistic levels of constant realistic violence, lingering on shots of bloodied faces and groaning women (including not one, but TWO different cases of pregnant women getting beaten/killed) really reveals a lot about his heart don’t it? it’s a den of hypocrisy, and he’s not even aware of it.

oh, and ellie and dina’s relationship? terrible. i mentioned this in an earlier post, but there is no conflict between them. ellie says something, dina just agrees with it. legit, there’s a moment where ellie says she should’ve died and dina agrees. this is not a normal relationship. its even worse when you compare them to abby’s relationship with owen. they bicker. there’s conflict, minor as it is. so they know how to write a relationship, but they just didn’t do it in favor of making ellie and dina look like these two flawless angels in twu wuv. i’ve genuinely read fanfics that presented relationships more realistically.

and the part that pisses me off the most? the zombies in this franchise are bloody fantastic. the fungal infection spin is unique, and the designs are tragically and disgustingly beautiful. their sounds and movements are haunting reminders that once they, too, were human. so druckmann comes along, throws all that out the window, and all but ignores the zombies for his little high school special. it’s something i’ve seen time and time again: a franchise is only as good as its monsters. if you refuse to respect your monsters, your franchise will go down the drain.

and how...how...HOW...does tommy get shot in the back of the head and leave with only a limp and a bad eye? and you just...brush over that? just so druckmann can start a game back up that should’ve ended HOURS AGO? seriously, the leaks said that the game would end after abby beats the crap out of ellie and dina, and it SHOULD have ended there. it would have been a terrible, disgusting ending, but at least the game would’ve died quickly instead of this LONG AND DRAWN OUT AGONIZING DEATH OF INTEREST. and the moral is “revenge is bad and you should show mercy, unless you’re abby in which case you get to have revenge and be a violent bitch and get away scot-free. and actually, showing mercy is the quickest way to ruin your life and end up with nothing.”

this game feels like a movie. a movie that would’ve ended up on mst3k. i’m not talking a “manos” (where its hilariously bad all the way through) here. not even a “monster a go go” (where its hilariously bad until the ending, then its just a disappointment) sort of situation. no, i firmly believe this is “the sidehackers” of videogames. a sprawling bed of depression and violence, a reminder that the world is filled with darkness but forgetting to mention that there is still hope, and ignoring the ONE DAMN UNIQUE ASPECT IT HAS to just ruin the audiences’ lives with a story that has been told more respectfully thousands of times before.

best part though, i am learning what NOT to do with my game. i’ll have to be careful not to fall into these same pitfalls.

#well he succeeded in making me feel emootions but i 100% doubt theyre the ones he wanted me to feel

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rhysie-cakes314 · 6 years

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Day 12- Childhood Fear

Summary:

Sometimes, Tony just got these ideas. "We’ll each tell you a story about our childhood fears. That way,” he glanced around the room, and his eyes told them there was no getting out of this, “Peter doesn’t grow up thinking he shouldn’t talk about his feelings like some of us did.”

That's how a perfectly normal Goosebumps marathon became a night of stories and revelations that the eight year old Peter would cherish forever.

“Viewers beware, you’re in for a scare,” the voice played over the opening before Steve turned the TV off without warning.

“Alright, I think that’s enough Goosebumps for one day,” he told the room. Steve and Peter had been watching the show all day. Each of the others had come into the room at different points, and having been sucked in by one episode or another, settled in to join the marathon. Even Tony had eventually made his way sleepily from the lab. He was currently drooling on Steve’s left shoulder, fast asleep with his plate of pizza still sitting in his lab. Between his husband and his eight year old nestled into his lap, Steve was beginning to sweat.

“But we were just about to reach season four!” Clint whined from his spot on the floor. He was leaning against Phil’s legs against the armchair, and the SHIELD agent was mindlessly playing with his hair, eyes closed.

Tony startled awake at Clint’s outburst, and Steve could punch the archer, Tony needed to sleep. The genius reached down and took another bite of pizza as though he hadn’t just been asleep. “Wait, we stopped the show?” he asked, confused. Steve stifled a laugh.

“Peter here has bed soon,” Steve explained to everyone’s groans. “We wouldn’t want him to have nightmares, would we?” He looked down at the child pointedly, ruffling his hair.

Peter pushed his hand off as he sat up, looking like Steve had insulted his honour. “I wasn’t scared! Goosebumps are only scary to babies.” Natasha thought the pout and crossed arms made the kid look just like a mini Tony. It was adorable.

“I disagree, young Peter,” Thor spoke very seriously. “I thought Slappy was quite frightening.”

“But dummy’s can’t actually talk, it was clearly just a bot.” Peter explained.

Tony pointed at the child proudly, “That’s right, squirt. You want to make a Slappy bot?” Peter giggled as he nodded in excitement.

Thor poured the rest of the popcorn into his mouth. “The dummy was possessed by a malicious spirit,” he spoke while chewing, sending flecks flying. Tony wiped a fleck of popcorn off his face.

“I guess that’s kind of scary,” Peter admitted. Thor nodded. “I thought the cursed camera was scarier, so don’t feel bad about being scared.” The Avengers shared a look as they all stifled a laugh. Peter attempting to comfort the god of thunder because he thought Thor needed it was one of the cutest things in the world. Steve looked down when he felt his shirt being tugged. “Pops, what were all of you scared of when you were kids?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond that maybe they could talk about it tomorrow, Tony sabotaged him without thinking. “That’s a great idea! We’ll each tell you a story about our childhood fears. That way,” he glanced around the room, and his eyes told them there was no getting out of this, “Peter doesn’t grow up thinking he shouldn’t talk about his feelings like some of us did.”

While Steve agreed that they should always do what they could to make sure Peter didn’t succumb to toxic masculinity, it didn’t have to be right now. “It’s getting late,” he started, but Peter placed a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise.

“Pleeeaaseee!” Peter begged. “I promise I’ll go right to sleep after.”

“And I’ll make my special hot cocoa!” Natasha sing-songed.

The night was already out of his control. Steve shot Tony a glare. They would talk about this later. Just because Tony had no semblance of a sleep schedule did not mean that Peter should inherit the bad habit. “Alright,” Steve acquiesced. Natasha had already left the room to make cocoa. The woman refused to let any of them know what made hers taste so special, claiming it was a Russian family secret. Only Bruce was ever allowed in the room and that was only to help her top them with whipped cream.

Once everyone had cocoa in their hands and was settled into the couches, Clint jumped up. “Me first!” No one fought him on it. “When I was little, there was local legend about an evil witch named Natasha-”

“No lying Uncle Clint!” Peter cried out. Clint lunged forward to tickle Peter. His squeals filled the room. Steve snatched the mug of cocoa before it spilled, shooting a glare at Clint. Clint winked at him before stepping back towards the TV again.

“You’re too smart for your own good, kid. Fine, I’ll tell a real story, though the witch Natasha scares me as an adult.” He ducked the pillow thrown at him before continuing. His face grew more serious as he decided what he should talk about that wouldn’t be too dark for an eight year old. Not that they ever shielded Peter from much, but the kid could stand to mature a little before hearing some of their tragic backstories.

“For part of my childhood, I lived with a traveling circus/carnival. They called us carnies,” he explained. “My brother, Barney, and I worked as roustabouts at first. Since we were the only kids, a lot of the adults liked to tell us stories. I was more gullible than Barney. There was this story that everyone worked together to come up with, and they each told it to me in snippets like it was some sort of historical event no one quite remembered.

“Supposedly, there was a set of conjoined twins who used to be part of the crew. Their names were Riley and Kylie. The two women were polar opposites in personality, and their constant bickering became the source of their act. The problem was, Kylie didn’t want to be in a carnival. She wanted to get surgery to separate them, but Riley loved their lifestyle travelling around the country with nothing to tie them down. The doctors wouldn’t attempt anything without permission from both twins; it was a dangerous surgery that was rarely done anyway.

“Their bickering slowly became screaming matches that kept everyone awake at night. Kylie begged her sister to let her live her own life. Riley could come up with her own act, she didn’t need Kylie or to be a freak. She could be a trapeze artist or something, Kylie argued. Riley would scream that Kylie would never escape her, that they were born together and would stay together until the day they died.

“And it might have turned out that way if Kylie hadn’t fallen in love with the knife thrower. They sent each other love notes, Kylie only writing and reading while Riley slept. The affair was rife with tension because the man wanted sex, but there was an obvious obstacle.”

Peter snorted at the picture in his head. Sex still seemed gross to him, but it would be extra weird if your sister was attached to you.

Clint waggled his eyebrows at Peter, happy to know the boy was enjoying the story. “Together, the star-crossed lovers hatched a plan. Kylie started hinting to Riley that they should try mixing their act with some of the others, that maybe if Riley found a new partnership she’d like, they could finally agree on the surgery. Riley bought into it, happy enough to humour her sister if it meant they’d stop screaming at each other every night.

“The twins tried out a few things, including letting the knife-thrower use them as a target. The rehearsals went fine, the man never missed, and he always successfully surrounded them with knives without hitting them once. After weeks of this, the ringmaster okayed the act for the show. Kylie was thrilled, their plan would commence that night.

“In front of a live audience, Riley was murdered by knife after knife to her chest. Her screams became the talk of the town for years.” Clint heard Peter gasp softly. “With Riley dead, the doctors had no choice but to separate her from Kylie. The lovers did not get to celebrate their success for long, because the angry ghost of Riley showed up the very next night. The poor roustabout who found their bodies could barely tell who they were, they had been stabbed so many times.

“But that wasn’t the worst part! No, the rumour started that the vengeful spirit of the murdered twin still haunted the troupe and killed anybody who lied to their sibling.” Clint shuddered. “Barney held that over me for years. I couldn’t lie to him at all because I was terrified of being stabbed by a ghost!” Clint bowed theatrically.

Peter clapped until everyone gave polite applause. “That is scary, Uncle Clint! But you shouldn’t lie to people anyway,” he lectured sternly. Clint couldn’t possibly be expected not to laugh at that!

The eight year old only frowned deeper until Clint held his hands up in surrender. “You’re so very right, Peter, I’m sorry. My brother and I weren’t good kids.”

Mollified, Peter stood on Tony’s legs to announce who would be up next. “Aunt Tasha, you’re up!”

The assassin took Clint’s place in front of her family. She looked nervous for a moment, something none of them had ever seen on her. “So,” she started, voice sharp. She cleared her throat, softening her tone. “This is complicated, my kroshka,” she met Peter’s gaze seriously. He nodded for her to go on. Peter was a smart kid, raised by a genius, but he was only eight. Natasha barely understood her own childhood. “I’m not sure which of my childhood memories are real and which are false,” she explained gently.

Peter scooted his butt off the couch, surprising the the woman with a hug. “That’s okay Tasha,” he assured her. Natasha wasn’t sure when she had become so entangled in this family; she never imagined she’d love a child like she loved Peter Stark-Rogers. Having children had never been in her own plans, but she would give anything for this kid’s happiness. “Fears are real even if their source isn’t anyway.” He looked up at her. It was such a wise thing for a child to say, all of the Avengers looked a little taken aback. “But you don’t have to tell one if you don’t want to.”

The redhead leaned down, placing a kiss on Peter’s forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For you, my kroshka, I will.” Peter’s face brightened and he ran back to Tony’s lap, ignoring the squawk from his father.

“In that case, I’ll tell you one of the things I do remember.” Natasha tucked her hair behind her ears while she collected her thoughts. “Now, this isn’t real, but I remember it as though it were. The scientists that raised me made me believe that I spent years of my life training at a ballet studio.

“At this studio, I had an imaginary teacher, he name was Ms. Nida. Ms. Nida was very strict, and she scared me.” The corner of her lips twitched into a near smile, the false memories bittersweet. She sometimes wish they were real, because they were much nicer than her reality. “I know it may seem silly that I was afraid of a ballet instructor, but you know that look Steve gets when he’s angry at Tony?” She asked Peter.

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Pops has a scary angry face!”

Tony burst out laughing when Steve blushed, looking at his son, horrified. “Do I scare you?” he asked.

Peter shook his head. “No, I know you only get mad ‘cause you care. But if I didn’t know you, it’d be very scary!” Tony continued to laugh through the entire affair. Steve thought he enjoyed it a little too much.

Natasha waited for their attention to return before she went on. “Well Ms. Nida had a similar face when she got mad. And she could yell like an angry Tony.” It was Steve’s turn to chuckle when Peter shuddered. “So when we were learning our parts for Swan Lake, and I was having trouble remembering it, I tried to hide and skip lessons. I didn’t want her to yell at me. Ms. Nida knew all of the studio’s nooks and crannies, though. There was no way I was going to avoid her.

“She called out for me in each room as she searched. Her voice grew angrier with every yell. When she did find me, she slapped me over and over, and made me explain to the whole ballet troupe why they were going to be punished the next day; that it was all my fault. The embarrassment is what really frightened me in the end. I thought all of the other dancers would hate me. So my fear was of being hated.” Natasha finished, waiting patiently for Peter’s reaction.

For his part, the boy looked thoughtful for a moment. “But you’re not afraid of being hated now?”

She shook her head, smiling down at him. “I don’t like to be hated, but I don’t fear it. Some people won’t like you, kroshka, plain and simple. There’s nothing you’ll be able to do to avoid it so there’s no sense fearing it. All you can do is be yourself.”

“I know, there’s already kids at school who hate me,” he answered sadly.

“What!? Who are they? I will march down to that school-”

Steve cut him off. “Tony, you will do no such thing. People are allowed to not like Peter.”

Tony huffed. “Well they’re stupid, then. He’s perfect and brilliant and nice…” he tickled the kid in his lap, relishing in the giggles.

Steve watched them fondly. “Who’s next Peter?”

“Hmmm… You!” He pointed at Steve.

Steve smiled. “Well that’s easy. I was afraid-”

“No! You have to stand in front and tell it like a story!” Peter demanded, Tony nodding in agreement behind him. Steve sighed, moving to face the audience.

“Well, everyone knows that I wasn’t a healthy kid. I was constantly ill, too skinny, and had pretty bad asthma. It was just my mom and I, and we never had enough money, mostly because my medicine and doctor’s appointments cost so much. The obvious answer to your question, Peter, would be to say that I was afraid of dying, but it wasn’t that simple.

“I’ve never been afraid of dying. For one, my mother always taught me to believe in God, and I’ve never had trouble knowing that I’ll be in heaven after I die. Nothing could be scary about that. There were many winters when I would go to bed very aware that I may not wake up ever again.”

A harsh burst of air punched out of Tony at the same time that Peter let out a soft “oh.” Neither of them seemed to be aware of it as they watched Steve with rapt attention, waiting for more. It was easy to forget that Steve used to be so fragile. He just seemed invincible most of the time.

Steve gave them a sad smile. “That’s just how it was when a skinny poor kid got the flu back then. The flu vaccine didn’t even exist yet. I think I got my first one in the middle of the war,” he added as an afterthought. “Sometimes, being that sick and miserable, death sounded kind of nice. My body would finally stop suffering.” Steve met Peter’s tearful gaze and locked onto them. Peter had never been kept away from the reality of death and suffering. It was something Steve and Tony had agreed on before adopting the boy. He couldn’t have superheroes as parents and not be as prepared for the worst as one can be.

“What I was afraid of, was leaving my mother alone. She was so sad sometimes, lonely after my father died, and I had made it my mission in life to make her as happy as I could. She tried her best to put on a brave face whenever I got really sick, but she couldn’t hide the terror in her eyes. My mother couldn’t lose me, not if I could help it. That fear is probably the only thing that kept me alive through the worst of it. I would feel myself make the decision sometimes, the choice to not die. Because leaving her alone and sad was scarier than the pain of living.” His husband and son were both crying now, and Thor sniffed loudly.

Peter stood and faced his pops. Steve was prepared for a hug, but Peter didn’t hug him. Instead he grew very serious. “Thank you for staying alive. It was very brave.” He gave a firm nod, then sat back down. When had the night become this serious? Peter’s words surprised a small gasp from Steve. He had to clear his throat, decidedly not contributing more to tonight’s tears.

“You’re welcome. I love you.” They snuggled into the couch again, Peter forcing his dads to lean on each other to hold his tiny hands in the middle. He balanced himself on one leg from each of them. Without speaking, he pointed at Thor.

Thor beamed. “I would be honoured to tell a story, tiny Peter!” He stood so heroically, it was easy to forget he was in a t-shirt and sweats instead of his armour and cape. “It has been thousands of years since I was a child. Growing up as the son of the All-Father, I was raised as a warrior from birth. I was too strong to fear anything in Asgard or any of the nine-realms for that matter. No, I was too confident for my own good. What I did fear, was that I would not live up to my responsibilities.

“I knew from the beginning that someday, I must take over as king of Asgard. Frigga and Odin raised me well, and I knew that in theory I would be ready. But in practice, it was far too easy to fail. Technically, past the time when my body resembled a Midgardian child, I was certainly still a child in maturity and age, given Asgardian lifespans. In the 9th century AD, I was given my first task that resembled a practice run for being a king. I traveled to Midgard, and went by the name Donner. The All-Father had tasked me to promote the worship of Asgardians amongst the Norse-men. It seemed to be going splendidly, and my fear of leading and failing was fading.

“The fear was brought forth anew when I found out how the vikings used my name after I left. They slaughtered thousands of Christians in the name of the thunder god. I had never intended my followers to become so cruel. I must not have been clear enough in my leadership. It was an important wake-up call for me. The smallest mistake in handling a people could lead to disaster. That was probably what I would consider the end of my adolescence.”

The room was silent. No one was sure right away if Thor was finished. Peter finally broke the silence, “You don’t sound like you were ever a child.” His brow was furrowed in confusion. “I love you, Uncle Thor, but you’re weird.” It was definitely along the lines of what they were all thinking, but Peter had the bluntness of a child on his side.

Thor let out a boisterous guffaw. “You are not wrong, little one. The fears of an Asgardian prince are perhaps not like the fears of a Midgardian child. You may one day understand that they’re not too different either.” Steve noticed that Thor did that sometimes. He would say two conflicting things, but it sounded entirely true nonetheless. Steve supposed it came from the wisdom of his years. “With great power comes great responsibility,” the god summarized.

Peter looked filled with awe at the statement. He was so lucky to have so many cool aunts and uncles. Who else at school could say they had a god as an uncle? “Uncle Bruce, would you go next, please?”

Bruce stood in front of them all, fidgeting a little. Bruce didn’t talk about his childhood. Ever. They all had vague ideas about his history, but even Natasha hadn’t read about it in his SHIELD file. She normally valued knowing people over their privacy, but Bruce was so private and meek, it just felt wrong to pry. The scientist pulled his glasses off, wiped them with his shirt, put them back on. He glanced between Steve and Tony a few times before locking eyes with Tony. “Are you okay with me talking about my childhood with him?” he asked quietly.

Tony was the only one that knew. Bruce didn’t open up much, and had only shared small snippets with Tony in the strange twilight hours of long nights together in the lab. They came when the two were heavily sleep deprived, and usually after Tony had revealed something painful about his own childhood. Tony was deeply honoured to be in Bruce’s trust, but he still didn’t feel like he knew as much about Bruce as Bruce did about him.

The rest of the room watched them with baited breath. Even Peter seemed to pick up on the privacy of the moment and held his tongue. Tony held his best friend’s gaze. He had no issue with Peter hearing these things, his son had unfortunately heard worse. Wade Wilson’s past was pretty terrible, and the two of them seemed to attract all the children from broken homes at school. Tony liked to assume it was Peter’s amazing kindness that brought the saddest children to his side, seeking comfort. The kid’s heart was so pure and giving. Tony was only worried about Bruce. “Only if you’re okay to talk about it,” he answered eventually.

Another tense moment past before Bruce made up his mind. He sat down on the floor, smiling at Peter. “Is it alright if I sit while I tell my story, honey?” In response, Peter extricated himself from his parents’ laps and sat next to Bruce, locking their hands together. Peter gave him an encouraging smile. Bruce kept the tiny hand in his and his eyes on Peter’s through the whole story. It was so intimate, and Steve’s heart swelled. His family was so perfect.

“Well, I’m not sure how to start,” Bruce admitted quietly. “I guess I should start by tell you that not everyone should have children.” Peter nodded gravely. “My father was not a good man. At least, not while I knew him. My mother was far too good for him, and he knew it.” Bruce took a steadying breath. Peter’s hand in his gave him the strength to go on. He could do this.

“My mother, Rebecca, loved me very much. I was the center of her universe, and sometimes it made it easy to forget that my father was there on the sidelines. If we focused enough on each other, it was like we could enter our own little pretend world, where he didn’t harm us. We both feared him. If he came home smelling of booze, she would try to hide me away fast enough that only she would get a taste of his wrath, but it rarely worked.

“You see, Brian, that was his name, Brian thought he loved my mother. I’m not so sure he knew what love was. In truth, Brian loved to own her. She was his wife and that meant she was supposed to adore him. So when my mother loved me, showed me that love, he was furious. The jealousy consumed him more than his alcoholism. Brian hated me because in his eyes, I stole his wife’s attention from him. I don’t think Brian ever showed me a single ounce of kindness, only hate. He beat me bloody and told me how much he wished I had never been born, how much I didn’t deserve his Rebecca.”

“He was wrong,” Peter whispered without thinking.

Bruce smiled sadly. “Yes, he was. I luckily had my mother’s love and her cousin’s love to counter that hate. They made sure I knew that his hatred had never been my fault.” He sighed, and Steve thought he had never looked so old and worn. “Nevertheless, I feared him. One night, my mother and I packed up some bags, and were going to escape. Brian, in a drunken rage, he killed my mother.” Peter gasped. “I watched him beat her to death in the driveway, too afraid to do anything. He ended up in a mental facility and the last I ever saw him was when I testified against him in court. Brian was my only childhood fear, but I also never faced it. Peter, I,” he cut himself off. The room was deafeningly silent. “I don’t tell you this easily, and it’s not just to show how scared I was as a child.

“I was about your age when it happened. It’s okay to be afraid, but I never stopped, and that’s where I want you to be different. My unfaced fears became anxiety and fear of a lot of things around me. The only way I found comfort was not in my mother’s cousin who raised me after the murder, but in my imaginary friend ‘Hulk.’ Hulk was fearless and angry like I wished I was, and he could handle all of my fears for me. I depended on this figment of my imagination all the way into adulthood. So when the accident happened, and I got the Other Guy, it shouldn’t have surprised me. I made him.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck. They hugged, tight. No one had anything they could say to a revelation like that. Tony had no regrets in letting Bruce tell the tale, and Steve was glad for it. Peter had recently been more curious about the Other Guy and how that could be his Uncle Bruce at the same time. Neither of them felt capable of explaining the ideas of repressed anger that Bruce encompassed, but Bruce had explained it beautifully and in a way an eight year old could still understand. “I love you and the Other Guy, Uncle Bruce,” Peter spoke fiercely. He pulled back from the scientist’s arms, smiling at him brightly. “You are him and he is you. I love all of you.”

Everyone was sniffling at this point. How could they not? Peter stood there, clueless to how much they were all admiring him. “Uncle Phil!” he singsonged. It was so at odds with the mood of the room, that it broke the tension. Steve could feel them all shift, changing focus and allowing the stifling emotions to dissipate. “Your turn!”

Coulson spoke the same way he gave mission reports and debriefings. Clint was grinning at the man the entire time, snickering occasionally, and Phil was expertly ignoring the man. “I’m not nearly as interesting,” he started, all dry humour and sarcasm. “I was afraid of Bloody Mary as a kid. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.” Peter nodded in agreement. He and Wade had already tried to summon her several times before JARVIS explained that it was only an urban legend. “My older sister had me convinced that her friend at school had been killed by her. She even made a fake newspaper article and obituary. My whole family got in on it. I was terrified. I didn’t successfully make it through her name three times until I was sixteen. They haven’t let me live it down to this day.”

Peter clapped and laughed before a yawn overtook him. “Thank you guys, I loved it!” He looked at Steve. “I promised I’d go to bed, so, I gotta go.” The rascal even made it as far as the hallway before Steve caught up to him, scooping up the squealing bundle.

“I think you’re forgetting one of the people in the room.” He began walking back to the group, meeting Tony’s amused expression equally.

Peter shook his head. “Nope! Daddy’s not afraid of anything.”

Tony stretched with an exaggerated yawn. “You heard the kid, I have no fears!” His shit-eating grin was begging for a smack. Peter giggled gleefully, enjoying their little collaboration.

“Oh really?” Steve cocked a brow at Tony, smirking. “Fearless Tony Stark-Rogers never needs my comfort again, huh?”

Tony stuck his tongue out. “Yeah!”

“I don’t think so, mister,” Steve made sure to put on his stern Papa voice. “This was your idea, you can finish it up.”

Tony scrunched up his nose, never able to deny that voice. Steve knew it, too, and really, Tony should be glad that the man didn’t abuse the power. “Fine, fine. I’ll go.” He stood to face the crew. If only Peter weren’t here, he’d make something meaningless up. But everyone had been so honest, and his son deserved the truth from him. “I never had to worry about money, or being sickly, or believing in superstitions, or leading worlds for that matter.” Tony allowed time for the chuckles. He was nothing if not a showman. “Being born a Stark prodigy, normal childhood fears and wants were just not a consideration. I can relate to the abusive father bit, though I didn’t fear Howard. If anything, I pitied him.

At first, I thought I was afraid of alcohol. I thought maybe it was the reason my father could be so cruel. But even then, I wasn’t afraid of it. I merely hated my father for succumbing to it. If I could drink it as a four year old and not be so mean, then clearly my dad must just be weak.” He glanced over at the minibar against his will. “No, I didn’t fear alcohol either.”

Tony began pacing. “What kept me up at night and fed my nightmares, well it was far spookier.” He quirked a lopsided smile at his son. Peter was watching him carefully. He was enjoying the show, but he knew his dad well enough to know that Tony was only pretending to be blasé. His dad was going to tell him something important, and Peter would hang on every word like usual.

“I was afraid of myself.” Clint snorted, and Natasha smacked him. “Yeah, I know how it sounds, but I was. No matter how many times I went over the data, the only conclusion I could come to that could explain why I had no friends and not even my parents loved me was that I was wrong. Something was wrong with me. I shouldn’t exist, I must be an abomination. And it frightened me.

I was afraid that I could never be good either. If I was so utterly unloveable and wrong to begin with, how could I get better? I tried lots of ways to be different, to just be someone else other than the loathsome Anthony Edward Stark, but I always came back terrifyingly me.” He frowned, trying to think of the words to make this make more sense. “The way I saw it, I suppose, was that there was two of me. There was the one doing the thinking and the feeling, and there was the scary other that somehow always ruined it for me. And I didn’t know how to get rid of him.” He shrugged. “Whelp, time for bed!”

“What!?” Peter and Clint yelled in unison. “You can’t leave it there,” Clint continued. “There’s no resolution! What kind of story telling is that!?”

“Yeah!” Peter agreed enthusiastically.

Tony threw his hands up. “Well I don’t know! I don’t have a resolution. That was my childhood fear, I answered the question!”

Peter shook his head. “Fine, I’ll finish for you!” Peter stood in front of Tony, mimicking the man’s body language. He cleared his throat. Tony was thrilled to see where this was going. “So I kept trying to run away,” Peter tried to make his voice deep. Tony’s grin was so wide it hurt. They were all laughing silently, watching the scene unfold. Peter was so cute it was hard to remember the subject matter. “I got in trouble,” Peter gave up on doing the voice. “I made friends while pretending to be not Tony. All me new friends thought I was fun and all party, but I knew the real me. The scary other.” Tony suddenly felt kind of cold. Was he so transparent that an eight year old could read him like this? He had never wanted Peter to be the one teaching everyone else how to be. It was his job to teach Peter, but he often found himself learning more than teaching.

“It was only when I finally let some people meet the real me, and found that they didn’t run away screaming, that I began to face my fear. If Uncle Rhodey, I mean Rhodey, wasn’t scared of me, then why should I be scared of me. So then I realized I was actually awesome and cool, and I met Steve who was also awesome, and we fell in love and lived happily ever after!” Peter finished big, raising his fists in a victorious stance. Tony stood in shock behind him while the rest of his family erupted into applause.

“Bravo!” Thor shouted.

“Now that’s resolution!” Clint agreed.

Peter turned to grin up at his dad. He snatched the man’s hand, and began dragging him towards his room. “Now come tuck me in, Daddy.” Tony let himself be led away, looking back at Steve with his face frozen in shock. Steve only smiled at them.

When Tony finally joined Steve in bed, he shuddered, letting the tears fall. Steve sat up, glad when JARVIS turned up the lights without being asked. “Peter hit a little too close to home?” Steve asked, pulling Tony into his arms. Tony didn’t respond, but nodded into his husband’s chest. Steve let him cry for a little longer. “He was right, y’know.”

Tony pulled away and eyed the blond with disbelief. Steve wasn’t having it, though. “No really, Tony, he was. Look at all the awesome people who love you. If you were so abhorrent, then either we’ve all lost it, or kid you got it wrong. Now which do you think is more likely?”

Tony made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I’m still not convinced you haven’t all lost it.”

Steve chuckled a little as well, pulling Tony down with him to lie down. “Maybe it’s a little of both,” he admitted happily. JARVIS lowered the lights again, and the two men held each other until they fell asleep.

#thearkoctoberchallenge2018 #stony #tony stark #steve rogers #marvel #fanfic #superfamily #superhusbands #peter parker

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whattoreadinsteadofdrinking · 5 years

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fuck the patriarchy

The title is self explanatory, but I’m going to explain anyways

I feel like I am deep in a forest of rage and the path that brought me here, to the middle of this angry angry forest, where the trees are screaming with frustration and I am simply adding my sympathetic screech to their general cacophony, is the patriarchy.

My thesis statement here is, that toxic masculinity make it so that men in general are allowed to be, if not bad, then very mediocre, with no consequence and no expectation to change. And it is agonizing to be a woman in a world of mediocre men. Agonizing. It is painful to watch my female friends settle for men who contribute nothing to their household, nothing to their relationship, and they are happy because “he doesn’t cheat and he doesn’t hit me” (in more or less words.) I had a conversation with two of my female coworkers today and this was what they were saying about their husbands. I cannot. I cannnnnnoooooooooooooooooootttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

I wrote above that men are allowed to be “very mediocre.” That seems like a weird word choice because isn’t mediocrity by its very nature, not something that can be described with a qualitative adjective/adverb?? Something that is mediocre just....is. It shouldn’t be able to be VERY average, right? Well you’re wrong. I mean VERY mediocre. I mean that toxic masculinity has normalized male-on-female violence and oppression to the point that a man can have the actual personality of tapioca pudding and little-to-no emotional intimacy, and still find a wife. A wife who will do the vast majority of all household chores and be expected to rear his offspring and do so for free, or if she works, make less than him. Literally men do not even have to be attractive to get women because society has conditioned us to expect women to be beautiful, and to value us based on patriarchal racist fat-phobic beauty standards, and has conditioned women to value men based on....what?? Their ability to earn money?? I don’t know. But I do know it’s not physical attractiveness-- or rather, if it is, the expectation for being physically attractive as a male is much more attainable. That’s part of what I mean by “very mediocre.” The bar is SO LOW, y’all.

My two friends today talked and talked about their lazy husbands who literally do nothing at home despite them both working full times and doing 90% of the child rearing, and their husbands are not conventionally attractive but like everyone has their own standard for that so who am I to say, and so I asked “what made you know that he was the one you wanted to marry??” and they both said “Oh he was really a family man. I could tell right away. He always talked about how he wanted a family.” I just sat there aghast because both these men have 1) cheated on their wives 2) not contributed to the family emotionally and 3) one of them, who is expecting their first child, told his wife he was not excited to have a baby once they finally got pregnant after trying for years. When she told me that I didn’t even know what to say and I tried to comfort her. She wasn’t worried. She didn’t want my comfort. She replied, “Oh, he’s just being a guy.” And that reply is what I mean. That’s what I mean by “Very mediocre.” That is the most mediocre thing I can think of and it hurts to see that she thinks this is fine. I don’t think that guys are that way in general-- but I think toxic masculinity has made it so that when they are this way, we expect it, we excuse it, and by doing that we really condone it.

My coworkers then went on to pity me openly for being single and to make fun of me for having so many dating stories. I wanted to say, the reason I have so many dating stories is because I am still looking for a man who I can be with and have some sense of equality. what I did not say to them is, “I’d be embarassed as FUCK to be seen with the men you have chosen and I would never allow myself to stay with someone who contributed so little to our relationship.” But I didn’t say that because I felt sad for them. They think I’m lonely and sad being on my own. I’m not. It does not occur to them that I love having my own life, with friends and dogs and an apartment decorated how I love it and time to pursue my interests and time to date men who truly interest me until they no longer do or I no longer interest them. That life seems sad to them. I wanted to say, “I’m free, and I know my worth, and I wish I could show you yours and that it’s so much more than being an unpaid Babysitter to grown men who are like another child in your household” but you can’t say that. So I didn’t.

“I wanted to say something but I didn’t” is another way of saying “I wanted to say something but I felt like I couldn’t,” which is how I feel when it comes to stuff like this. One of my friends basically just always tries to hook me up with his friends on dates. Sometimes he tries to set me up with our mutual male friends, while they are in the same room. I’ve said a lot of times that this makes me uncomfortable and asked him to stop doing it and he hasn’t. Last night at Bible study he tried to tell me he knew that this summer when I go to Spain I’m going to come back with a husband. I said I wasn’t interested in marriage and he just kept going on. This is literally days after reprimanding me for turning down our mutual friend for a date.

Said mutual friend, let’s call him Joe, asked me out almost a year ago now. We had gone to dinner in a big friend group and someone had asked me about online dating, and I had shared openly that I was not interested in dating right then. Then the next day, at Bible study with the same group of friends, I shared (in what I felt was a safe, confidential setting) that I was not dating because I was in a season of really working on my relationship with myself and with God. Joe heard me say those things, then waited til we left the building and called me aside “to talk real quick.” He proceeded to ask me out. I laughed out loud and said “you must not have heard me.” But then I demurred because I didn’t-- surprise surprise!!-- feel like I could say anything about how wildly inappropriate it was for him to ask me out after I had just shared what I had shared.

He said he heard what I said and respected it (FALSE) but that he felt he “had to ask me out anyway or else he’d miss a great opportunity.” OPPORTUNITY FOR WHAT? An opportunity to show that you respect none of the words coming out of my mouth or the boundaries I’m setting? An opportunity to make me feel like I can’t share openly in my faith-based community without having it be seen as a challenge to change my mind about romantic relationships? I said no and explained why again (this is the third time he had heard my explanation now.) He said we could get coffee as friends instead and I said that is fine, but it would be just friends, like if I got coffee with a woman from the group (I am not bisexual so implying that it would be totally platonic.) Even after saying the phrase “totally platonic” he said “great. We can meet at Starbucks. It will be good to get a drink and talk and just explore if there could be something between us.” HE STILL DID NOT UNDERSTAND. I could not believe it. It’s worth mentioning at this point that it was 20 degrees outside with an even lower windchill and I was freezing my ass off trying to explain in words this man could understand that while I was uninterested in dating in general, I was specifically uninterested in dating him, when he had just shown me he would never listen to me or take my words seriously the first, second, or third times. You think I’m going to put myself in situations alone with you when you won’t hear me say “no” on something as innocent as a coffee date?? Hell nah bro. I said no coffee date even as friends and now it’s been a year, and his friend in the group is reprimanding me for not going out with him and telling me to give him a chance. No. No. No

So now I feel really uncomfortable at Bible study which is a big deal because that’s supposed to be a safe space. That’s supposed to be a place, and a people, that help me connect with God. And it is-- but it’s harder now. I know what I have to do-- I have to make this guy, who won’t leave me alone about dating and keeps trying to hook me up with his friend, really uncomfortable. I have to say in a clear firm voice in front of everyone that I don’t want these comments being made anymore. And I know already that everyone is going to think I’ am being a bitch. Just for saying my feelings. Just for speaking up. I’m the one who will end up looking like the bad guy even though this will be the 5th time I’ve asked him to stop doing this and he has never respected it. OH, and Joe?? A year later, almost to the day of my rejecting him initially, he asked our friend group to one of those Painting with a Twist nights. I said no and he asked why so I said the truth which is 1) I don’t want to pay money to have someone tell me what to paint and 2) I don’t drink, so the whole thing is a waste of 30 bucks for me. He said he understood and then immediately followed up by saying we could hang out some other time-- maybe go salsa dancing together. I just can’t. What do I have to do to be understood??

In conclusion, here’s this short story, which is beautiful and sad and poignant and tells all of how I am feeling, so much better than I just did. Men are being cheated out of the ability to function in a way that is healthy and leads to mutually edifying relationships-- and that is tragic. It’s tragic for them and for us. It makes me sad. Maybe my anger forest is really just so sad and being angry is safer. Sadness slows you down but anger keeps you warm. I don’t know where to go from here but I’ll tend to these feelings and see what happens. I’ll feel the feelings til I don’t anymore, or til I still do but they are manageable. In the meantime, read this.

“Cat Person” by Kristen Roupenian

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/12/11/cat-person

#long post #feminism #fuck the patriarchy #rage #sad

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monokuroo · 6 years

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Title: Nil Admirari no Tenbin Teito Genwaku Kitan Company: Otomate Release Date: April 21, 2016 Platform: PS Vita Walkthrough

The Gist

After seeing her brother burn himself because of a book, Tsugumi starts seeing ‘aura’ or the glow of a cursed book. She, then, joins a group of people called Fukurou who search for these books hoping to avoid any more victims like her brother.

The Gameplay

Like with most recent games, you can change the name of the main character or leave it as it is.

Once you’ve finished the common route, you’ll choose whose route you’re going to play. At first, I was bummed out. I prefer getting to a route depending on the choices I made as I play.

As you go through the route, some choices lead to happy or bad ends. You can check if you are heading to your chosen end once the libra appears. The left is the good end and the one on the right is for the bad end.

Within the route, you can check your progress on the story. You can also choose which chapter you would like to see. Other things to check out here are if the chapter will give you a CG event or choices, or which end you are going to end up with. It is a nifty system to have, I must say.

The Story

The whole thing about searching for cursed books is pretty intriguing. It poses an interesting question – is it the fault of the author for writing such suicide-inducing books or not? In Nil Admirari’s clunky way of storytelling, it shows that it depends on the intent of the writer. Some write because they are cornered, some have no idea that they have a capacity to produce something like that, and some are plain twisted in their own way.

But the game fails to deliver that.

That’s the thing, the story has lots of inconsistencies.

I thought it would be like in Collar x Malice where it made me think what is really right and wrong. What happens is that one route this character would be the bad guy, in the next route he’ll be the victim and so on. At the end of the game, it made me wonder who is the bad guy.

Clunky way of storytelling

I mean the pacing. The shift from the main plot to the character’s own issues is forgivable since I love the characters. Still, there are scenes where I scratch my head in confusion. Smut coming out of the blue, revelations from the left field – you get the idea.

One of the biggest offenders is Shizuru’s route. I thought the problems are solved and I’m off to the epilogue when the game dropped a twist. I loved twists. But what I didn’t like about this twist is how it disrupts the entire flow of the game.

Misogyny

When I started this game, I wanted to root for Tsugumi and her dreams of living life on her own terms by joining Fukurou. I thought things are looking good because another female character named Shiori leads the team. Then her best friend also got a job as a reporter. The game pretty much establishes a time period where people start accepting women in the workforce.

Uh, no.

Then these people start saying “No you can’t do this or that because you are a girl.” This includes her workmates.

Seriously? (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)

This is sad. 😦

I get it if people outside Fukurou will say that. But for Tsugumi’s workmates, it’s just absurd. For one, their leader and the person everyone respects is a woman. Shiori holds a gun. So why can’t Tsugumi go train herself as well? Why do the other characters insult Tsugumi for being a woman when they don’t say anything like that to Shiori? It’s just frustrating to see her being treated like that when Tsugumi works so hard.

The story could have been good. But at least, the characters make this game not too bad. For the order, I recommend the one I did – Shizuru -> Hisui -> Shougo -> Akira -> Rui -> Hayato -> Secret Character.

Characters

Kuze Tsugumi

With her kind of upbringing, Tsugumi surprised me in ways I didn’t expect.

She is Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes and an innocent girl in the ways of the real world. But she decides to work. Not for her family or anybody else but for herself. Well, part of her decision is probably to get out of her family. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that she wants to do things her way. And that’s praise-worthy.

I expected Tsugumi to be a sensitive damsel-in-distress. But she proved me wrong. She likes doing menial things, like household chores. She strives to do better at her work. Heck, she even wanted to be a decent fighter to be able to stand alongside her workmates. Too bad, she is born in an era where people are extremely judgmental of women.

As much as I want Tsugumi to be on my list of favorite heroines, she falls short on the list. For one, I got used almost immediately with her reactions. It’s easy to guess how she would react because there’s a pattern. One character says something that surprises her and her initial reaction is “!!” or “??” or “…?”. What the heck is that థ౪థ. Is the writer lazy to give her a proper reaction? I’m pretty sure normal people have something they blurt out when surprised.

Another thing is that Tsugumi rarely holds an opinion of her own. More often than not, she describes things as they happen, not how she views things. I guess giving the heroine a “general” personality makes it easier to “insert” yourself in her shoes? But I don’t play visual novels to be “in” character. I play so that I can immerse myself in the story and its characters. Too bad the writer didn’t achieve that here. As I’ve mentioned here, there’s got to be more from her than her surface-level reactions.

Tsugumi’s ready anytime, anywhere ◦°˚\(*❛‿❛)/˚°◦

So early on, we know that Tsugumi is prim and proper. Like how she is scandalized watching a movie with a guy, blushes when he holds her hands or hesitates just going on a date since it is her first time. The surprising thing is, she never hesitates during sex. That never fails to give me a good laugh. She doesn’t even ask the most cliche first-timer questions. She just goes all the way on her first time, no apprehensions at all.

I’ve mentioned in this post how the couple does it anywhere – even in the apartment’s public spaces. I’m legit scared that someone might catch them doing it. Tsugumi, though, with all her good girl upbringing, has never questioned it at all. In one route, she worries what her teacher would say if she’s caught watching a movie with a guy. I wonder what would her teacher say if she knew her student does it anywhere.

Migiwa Shizuru

Migiwa Shizuru is the novelist of erotic and tragic love stories. He lives in the shared house with the Fukurou members. Tsugumi met him when he tried to sell her a goldfish while also trying to hit on her.

I wanted to like this route because the smut is A+. It reminds me of the smutty manga I’ve read on my teens. But I didn’t feel the romance between them. I couldn’t even tell when Shizuru falls in love with Tsugumi. He likes her, yes. He likes her body, for he tries to seduce her a lot of times.

My neutral mood for this route starts when Shizuru treats Tsugumi like a whore who beds anyone who has a dong after seeing her walking in the park with another guy. When does walking become synonymous with banging? I was insulted for Tsugumi. She gives her best even her sleep just to help Shizuru and that’s what she gets? Seriously? Thank goodness I used a guide or else the choices that I want to choose will definitely land me a bad end www. All I wanted was for Tsugumi to slap him and never talk to him until he realizes his mistake. She did slap him. But she also wanted to apologizes afterward. Girl you don’t. You just don’t.

After that, I can’t unsee how Shizuru appeals to the good girl nature of Tsugumi to make her submit. Like that one time when he makes her a “proper” adult. Tsugumi spends the entire route doing everything to become mature for Shizuru. When it’s banging time, he asks her a choice which would make sex consensual. But did she really want it? Or she just wanted to prove herself as an adult?

Hoshikawa Hisui

Hoshikawa Hisui is the youngest member of Fukurou. Like Tsugumi, he also has the power to see the cursed books. He looks like a doll, on top of his pretty looks.

Hisui surprised me in his route. He looks so open in the common route. But he’s rather rigid on some things – which totally makes sense once you get to the bottom of things.

What’s surprised me even more though is this:

[This is my first time but I know everything about it] {rough translation}

[I’m pretty sure I’ll be good at it]

Mind you, Hisui makes it a point how he hates women and not interested in those things. But he knew those things??

Also, I feel like the main moment for climax got turned down to throw in smexy times. I’m disappointed when Tsugumi chooses to ~fiercely~ kiss Hisui in the middle of his monologue. It felt like a great moment to reassure Hisui and build his self-confidence. Instead, she dived right in for sex. What’s with them acting like sexually deprived teens turning into humping in the middle of a serious discussion?

Ukai Shougo

The son of the prime minister who tried to kill himself the same day Hitaki did.

I’m no good with tsundere characters and Shougo is a massive one. He is constantly irritated towards Tsugumi. I get offended for Tsugumi because he keeps on pushing the blame on her when it wasn’t her fault. And it pains me to see her not stand up for herself (the way she does for Shizuru in Shizuru’s route). He just keeps on getting angry on various things. And tells that it is Tsugumi’s fault when it isn’t.

It was difficult to like Shougo. Though once he got over his tsun side, he is pretty cute. It’s fun to tease him and see him blush even while saying a simple “I’ll be going.”

Kogami Akira

Kogami Akira appears cold and distant. He has a couple of mysteries around him like how he doesn’t like people seeing him naked in the bath.

I was spoiled about the major landmine in this route that I’m dreading to do Akira’s side of the story. Even after finishing the route, I’ve tried so hard to think of even one good thing that I found here. But all I could think of is how this is a big disappointment to me. Akira’s route makes all the previous route I played far greater than his.

First off, this route has a clunky pacing and Akira’s route is another offender. One moment, it is building the romance. A few minutes after it is dropping a twist. It is confusing as it breaks the momentum one scene establishes. So even if I know, that he should already be falling for her, the romance is just not there.

Akira has his moments. He can be cute if he wanted to. But then these moments are rare and all over the place. And no, it’s not even in the smutty scenes. He has the worst scene out of the first four.

Shiginuma Takashi is a lot worse on this route too. In the previous routes, he appears as a good host with ulterior motives. But here, Tsugumi gets to know him up close and personal.

Sagisawa Rui

Sagisawa Rui is a medical student who accidentally bumps into Tsugumi every single time.

I know I’ve been waiting for this route. But seeing Hayato watching Tsugumi being taken by Rui is painful. I’m tired of seeing him watching on the sidelines.

What I did, once I get to the point where I’m halfway through Rui’s route, I skipped until the end to unlock Hayato’s route. I swore I’ll come back once I’ve finished Hayato’s. But then this news happened… and I’ll explain later. 8D

Ozaki Hayato

Ozaki Hayato is the first one to invite Tsugumi to join Fukurou after her brother’s incident. Hayato has an obvious crush to Tsugumi that is evident in every route. It’s just so cute!

But choosing guys other than him makes me feel bad for Hayato. It’s been too long. But I loved it. Though the pacing is as clunky as ever and the romance just happened, I still loved it for Hayato x Tsugumi. I even loved the revelation in the end. And I’m looking forward to playing his route in the fan disk.

Secret Character

I never thought I’d guess it right www.

Once you get to Hayato’s story, it is pretty easy to guess who the secret character is. Easy because once you’re there, he is the one who keeps on appearing even when he isn’t on other routes. But I didn’t do his route and wants to save this once I get to the port.

Speaking of port…

Nil Admirari no Tenbin on Switch

That’s right. Otomate is moving to Switch now and one of the titles that they are going to port is Nil Admirari no Tenbin. It will be titled Nil Admirari no Tenbin Irodori Nadeshiko. This port will contain the first game and its fandisk.

For the past weeks, I’ve been debating whether I’d get this or PS4 for my RPG needs. Or if I might need to buy another Vita (I fear that the one I have will die any moment lol). So the move is a welcome change for me.

So what now?

I intended on going back to Rui’s route to actually finish the story. Then do the secret character’s route and then the bad ends. But ever since I heard of the port, my motivation died down www. Eventually, I’ll replay the game so I want to save those ends I didn’t finish on the Switch version. Besides, the port will have the fandisk. So I might as well wait for that.

The important thing is I finished Hayato’s route.

Yes, this is vital www. I’m so shipping this pairing that just finishing Hayato’s route makes my entire playthrough worthwhile.

Nil Admirari no Tenbin Teito Genwaku Kitan (ニル・アドミラリの天秤帝都幻惑綺譚) #nilad Title: Nil Admirari no Tenbin Teito Genwaku Kitan Company: Otomate Release Date: April 21, 2016 Platform:

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lurkingcrow · 6 years

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Naboo, the Separatists and why Palpatine is an evil genious

So I am still seriously tired (for a number of reasons) and have a thousand other things I wanted to be working on (two half finished responses to asks that have been sitting in my inbox forever), but a thought struck me as I was browsing through my feed before bed.

It was a still from the TCW episode where Padmé meets with Mina Bonteri, and in particular the part where Ahsoka asks “Your friend is a Separatist?!”.

And that made me think. Because Mina is an obvious parallel to Padmé - they are both passionate politicians from planets in the Mid Rim who want the best for their people. And that made me realise something.

The tragedy of the Republic is that is was broken long before the events of the prequels. Even if certain Sith hadn’t intervened it was already beginning to fracture: the Outer Rim was already largely outside of normal Republic control, there was growing inequality between the systems closer to the core and those further out. Large monopolies were exerting undue influence to shape policy for their own benefits. Something was inevitably going to give.

What Palapatine and Dooku did though was change the lines on which the inevitable civil war was going to fall.

Naboo should have been Separatist.

No, really, they should have.

(meta incoming)

Yes, yes I know, I know.

The Naboo were dedicated to democracy, principles of freedom etc etc.

But lets revisit the situation as of TPM. Naboo was a politically unimportant system with few major exports that were tied up in a Trade Federation monopoly. Their attempts to renegotiate a deal ended in the blockade of their planet, and the response of the Republic is to send two Jedi to help with negotiations.

Fair enough, that’s their job, and one that the old canon at least suggested Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon spent a fair amount of time doing (and doesn’t that say a lot about the stability of the Republic even then). But honestly there was relatively little they Jedi could honestly have done. Nothing the Trade Federation had done was illegal at that point, because the rules had been written to grant them those powers. Unless the Jedi could appeal to the Trade Federation’s sense of justice (Ha! Yeah right!) then under “normal” circumstances the blockade would probably have continued, to the detriment of Naboo.

Furthermore look at the events that DID occur during TPM. The Trade Federation launched an armed invasion of the planet. It was not a bloodless thing, people died (as the messages Padmé receives make clear). The only hope the people of Naboo have is for Republic intervention.

What intervention though? At this point in time the Republic has no standing army. That’s the point of AOTC. Individual systems and planets may have local military bodies, but at the same time getting them to commit to armed action outside their territory would be a hard sell. The closest thing the Republic as a body had to a paramilitary force... was the Jedi. And there are a number of reasons why the Republic ordering them to intervene in what appears to be a local dispute is a BAD IDEA (many of which become obvious if you watch any of TCW, because honestly it was a brilliant setup and reminds me just how much I hate Palpatine). So, what help were Padme’s advisers expecting?

Much like international relations here on planet Earth, influence is wielded through things like sanctions - behave badly and we will refuse to trade with you, bar access to our territory etc etc. On an individual level this may not cause too much trouble for something like the Trade Federation, but if the Senate as a whole, or even a large proportion of systems, chose to implement something like that? It is a HUGE hit to their operation. The Senate actually had a decent chance of stopping them.

But they didn’t.

Because Naboo was one planet, not particularly important, and why jeopardise existing relationships when they are so profitable? I mean it is TRAGIC what is happening, but surely it’s being exaggerated - of COURSE their Queen says it’s a bloody invasion, what do you expect? No, best take the time to look at things carefully before pulling out the big economic sanctions...

And Padmé did her best, and the idea was that as a Chancellor Palpatine might be able to use his position to convince enough systems to support broad Senate resolutions etc... but yeah, that takes time. Because it’s all about negotiations - what will you give me tomorrow for my support today.

Which is why Amidala needed to die. A living queen isn’t anywhere near an emotional bargaining chip as one who died tragically during the invasion. Remember, the whole point of the Naboo crisis was to put Palpatine in power and allow him to start consolidating his control of the Senate. There are all SORTS of powers that could be granted that are explained away by a man trying to end the occupation of his planet through legitimate means, and the death of a legitimately elected monarch is the kind of thing that could add a certain level of urgency - none of the other monarchies want that sort of thing happening to THEM after all. And the more he can push through under the guise of urgent action the better.

But Padmé of course doesn’t follow expectations (which would probably be to set up some kind of government in exile on Coruscant). And blah blah blah, Naboo is freed! Yay! All is well, the galaxy is at peace!

Except...

They did it without help. In the end there WAS no Republic support (unless you count two Jedi an their tiny charge which, no not really). Hell, those responsible for the invasion escaped conviction NUMEROUS TIMES in the years that followed. Naboo basically demonstrated that when it came to going up against the powerful corporations, small systems were on their own.

In ANY SANE UNIVERSE Naboo and all the other planets in similar situations should have been scared and angry. When it came to any sort of dispute, all the big players have to do is muddy the waters a little and they can escape completely without blame! Unless you are a Core world, or otherwise critical to the general functioning of the Republic, chances are you are going to be out of luck.

(That’s not to say that these attitudes are universal - you have systems who are trying to stand up for what is right, but as TCW makes clear, self interest is the primary motivation for many.)

Here is the natural fault line. Those who have power and those who do not. Core vs Rim, planets vs corporation. Singly, a planet can do little to reform the system and secession is not an option as it is dangerous to not be part of the Republic- the Hutts are after all just waiting to expand their influence. If enough systems band together however...

But, for one reason or another *cough - Palpatine* the Naboo crisis was largely glossed over - like I said, court proceedings were protracted, no convictions forthcoming, and for the most part people forgot about the whole thing. Naboo was rebuilding, and indeed began to flourish.

And now, now we get into the evil brilliance that is Palpatine (and Dooku’s) plan.

Again, remember the end goal is for Palpatine to be on the throne with as much power as possible. Now I know I’ve mentioned it before, but the entire point of the Clone Wars was to exhaust the galaxy. And by exhaust I mean in every way - exhaust resources, exhaust economies, and exhaust the population. It not only made the transfer of power to a central authority more palatable (enabling his takeover) but also ensured that resistance was limited and had little support.

So, to have a draining, protracted war, your sides need to be relatively close to each other in terms of balance. And you want to minimise cohesion on both sides - internal fighting, provided it doesn’t weaken the overall forces too much, can only benefit that end goal of chaos.

And so Dooku welded the Trade Federation and Techno Union to the more generalised separatist/reform cause. And it was a brilliant move. The corporations have the resource to make the necessary army, and the planetary systems provide the moral cause.

More importantly however, it splits the growing number of discontented planets.

Because Naboo? Naboo is never going to be a separatist supporter while their oppressors remain at the helm. And the planets like them have to make a similar choice - which is worse? Senate of Corporations? Some felt the potential freedom offered by the CIS was worth bargaining with the devil. Others opted to remain with the Republic and attempt reform at a later date. Either way, their decision was not clear cut.

Neither side could claim moral superiority, and that was exactly as Palpatine intended. The Clone Wars would sweep across the galaxy, turning brother against brother and friend into foe...

And so that leaves us where I began, with two women on opposite sides

Padmé Amidala and Mina Bonteri

In another universe they would have been allies.

In another universe they might have led a secession of their own.

In another universe there might have been a truly righteous cause for them to champion, one that never necessitated Jedi becoming Generals.

But not in this universe.

And that’s just one more tragedy to add to the pile of angst that is the Galaxy Far Far Away...

#star wars #meta

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silver-spider-art · 7 years

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Borderlands Head Canons

Okay so I have horrible depression writer's block rn and have been replaying all the borderlands games while also daydreaming all the stories I want to tell with these characters. So I’m just going to write out my head canons for shits and giggles cuz I have a lot of thoughts.

Handsome Jack:

Jack is such a wild card. He’s an overgrown toddler and an impatient genius. Also sexy as hell and a problematic fave. I spend so much time playing the game sassing and back talking him (like he can fucking hear me) but I still adore him. And relistening to some of the dialog lines I’ve built up a variety of head canon and AU ideas for him.

So canon vs fanon is a little squishy in my head but Moxxi claims his face is plastic surgery and I’m taking that to be more than the mask. He’s definitely ADHD and neurodivergent. Plus a good helping of PTSD and paranoia thanks to Grandma and trauma from his ex-wives. Those are all his starting points but he breaks into 3 categories based on Angel. Bad Dad, Okay Dad, and Good Dad.

Bad Dad is canon and tips the point of no return for Jack’s mental instability when Angel brutally (but accidentally) murders his wife/her mom. Afraid of his own daughter and horribly betrayed and without “the one good force” in his life, he starts down the path of ultimate Sheakspearian self-destruction. All relationships end tragically and he’s his own greatest enemy. As far as the wife goes, I’m 100% that she is on a pedestal in his head and while he can think no ill of her, the relationship wasn’t all roses.

Okay Dad, in AUs this would be where however his wife died or was lost it didn’t result in his fearing Angel (I normally leave this idea for modern!AUs without Siren powers). He is still overprotective and “doing it for your own good” but without the torture or horrific manipulation. Because of this, while Angel might still resent or hate him, he still has something to live for and is capable of somewhat decent relationships. Still, he rather sucks at it and more often than not is self-destructive. (my fave for writing and reading)

Good Dad, this is a strange and mysterious creature that is nearly unheard of. So often this feels so out of place. So much would have to change to create a catalyst in his life for him to turn out healthy. I mostly see this as a redemption arch thing. Where he might be able to turn it around and make amends given the right people around him.

The other thing I’ve been growing ever found of is trans!jack. He wears a ridiculous number of layers of clothing which is definitely hiding his soft gut, but I’m very fond of the idea that much of his bragging and defensiveness is overcompensation for his fear and trauma both from childhood abuse and gender. There is quite a bit in game dialog on the Jack vs John thing. For the trans!jack I’m actually loving the idea that when he came out and remade his life, he chose John and was hired in at Hyperion with them only knowing him as John. But as he got more comfortable with his new life (and Tassiter made him start hating his new name) he wanted to reclaim his birth name. That he’s always gone by the nickname Jack (born Jacqueline) and was now confident enough in presenting male (and helped by Nisha) that he would even let friends call him Jackie without feeling less masculine. (super self-indulgent reasonings for this)

Other random head canons, Jack is polysexual and pansexual. He prefers women romantically but usually has longer last relationships with men yet rarely thinks of them in the same light. He’s mostly into women powerful enough to crush him and while he is aggressive and into being on top, he’d make a shit dom. He’s impatient and easily losses himself to pleasure. He is, however, a very good sub but it takes a huge amount of trust for him to allow that. (this is also why he is so angry at his attraction to Rhys. Rhys is a soft nerd who can’t even fire a gun, the exact opposite of Jack’s type and he falls for him anyway.) Jack’s vanity knows no bound and he spends way too much time of his look every morning to look perfectly disheveled and like he doesn’t care. Also extremely attached to his favorite things with huge possessiveness (partially caused by aforementioned childhood trauma). Jack actually likes cats but hates being around then cuz old childhood pain. Jack is also complete and utter crap at taking about his feelings or opening up to people.

Timothy Lawrence:

So for dear Tim, my beloved favorite, I have 2 main categories, canon doppelganger or au brother.

Doppelganger: needing money he took a job as Jack’s body double and had plastic surgery to look like Jack. Depending on Jack (Bad/Okay/Good) his relationship turns out drastically different.

Bad ending poor Tim gets branded and has to fell his possessive and deranged boss and spends his life masked on Pandora as a mercenary. Always hiding his face for fear of those who want revenge on the man whose face he wears.

Okay fate, he and Jack are lovers. They fight a lot and Tim’s most often catchphrase is “damn it, Jack” but in the end, Jack is his asshole. Their relationship is polyamorous and stable. But Tim is often in the shadows and overlooked, partially by choice.

Good end? This is so rare I have no idea.

Twin/Brother: having grown up together they get Jack’s asshole and abusing Grandmother and Tim’s “laughs at your death” mother. Having one family member and someone he can always fall back on to help him and someone to be a hero for, Jack never goes full Bad ending. Despite all their fighting and issues, they balance each other out. Always falls in the Okay category of Jack’s relationship to Angel.

But I’ve been working out the redemption arch to lead to a Good Dad ending. Jack actually being self-sacrificing for once and giving up something he wants for his brother's happiness. One idea is that both he and Tim are both pursuing Rhys but after some inciting incidents, Jack comes to realize that his family and friends are happier with Rhys in their lives and Jack knows that he’ll just ruin it like he’d started to do. I can see this beautiful scene of Jack seeing Tim and Rhys talk at a party and seeing Angel come up to join them. His heart aches because he wants that to be himself in Tim’s place but knows it would never happen. That in the end, he’s poison. So he chooses to give up. To let that peaceful scene be reality. That he can accept his claim on Rhys just being as family and not as lover. And that moment of clarity and change of focus helps get him on the path to repairing his relationship with Angel and his brother. Never a smooth ride and he fails a lot, but it does get better.

But back to Tim.

Tim/Rhys is life. I love these two together like nothing else. Jack/Tim and Jack/Rhys is always unstable and huge potential for unhealthy. But Tim/Rhys is heaven and precious and good.

Tim loves cats and sweaters. He wants to write an epic fantasy story but has no faith in his abilities. He’s anxious and terrified of heights but he will be it anyway even while white with fear. He has a huge cybernetic kink he doesn’t want to admit to. Tim dated Wilhelm until the end and still deeply cares for the huge quiet man. While Tim dislikes blood and guts, he found he was actually really good and fighting. After he started the body double gig he got swoll and has stayed in shape since (his own vanity showing). He’s covered in freckles and tans dark in the sun. His voice can be very awkward and scratchy but confidence and vocal training helps that in the non-canon or modern!au settings. Tim is a much better fighter than Jack and can handle any weapon thrown into his hands (I mean just look at his skill tree in game) but he always holds himself back outside of combat and thinks of himself as weak. Despite his skill, he lacks confidence and in the bad endings always believes Jack is actually stronger than him.

Rhys:

My boy. Rhys is trans and autistic. He works very hard to make sure it doesn’t show. He volunteered to get the eye and experimental echo port in order to help compensate for his mental limitations and further enhance his positive skills. His cybernetic arm was also technically voluntary and for badass points he always claims so, but he wasn’t giving up a “perfectly good arm” but a barely functioning arm that always caused him chronic pain due to a poorly healed childhood injury. He stared in Data Mining and while he refused to act in violence to advance, Rhys has very gray morals and had done plenty of shady things to advance in Hyperion. He never had a problem with killing in the vague sense, just not wanting to get his hands dirty directly. This does change slowly, but he still hates guns. They are just very hard for him. When he must fight, melee is the way he goes. Rhys got his chest tattoos after his top surgery to disguise the scars. like his flashy cybernetics, his main goals are “if I have to stand out I want them looking at me because I’m too pretty to look away from”. He tries to fake it till he makes it with confidence even when he has no idea what’s happening.

He always looks everything up on the EchoNet and panics when his connection to it is cut off. It’s his safety net/blanket in many ways. The more the situation is out of control and not following his plan, the more his anxieties act up and leave him vulnerable. This is how Jack easily manipulates him when everything is going to hell. He needs more time to think through things then the chaos of Pandora allowed. Once he’s used to the wasteland and it’s people, this is less of an issue. (Hyperion Rhys vs Atlas Rhys)

His special interests are colorful socks, Handsome Jack (he regrets that deeply after meeting the man), and his new interest is A.I.s. Though Rhys is very into his cybernetics and has moded them some, he can’t build them. His skills are haking, programming, and coding. His old goals where to get a job in digital security or programming once he could get out of data mining. Now as Atlas CEO his pet project has been building and refining A.I.

Random: Rhys is bisexual and leans a bit poly. He is sex positive but doesn’t have to have it in a relationship. He will follow along with most all his partner's kinks as it’s most important for him that they are having fun together. Soft fluff and cuddles are what he lives for though. (everything about this is super self-indulgent)

Angel:

Angel is autistic. It puts her in an especially dangerous/vulnerable position with her powers and Bad Dad Jack doesn’t know what to do with her without his wife to help. He loves his baby girl dearly, but he’s lost and doesn’t know how to help her. In the end, he uses her to fuel his own obsessions and the veneer of childhood is stripped from her eyes as resentment sets in. She lost her father long ago and now only wants release. Like Tim, she could have tried to kill him herself, but while she can and does betray him, he’s still her father in the end.

Okay Dad Jack, (mostly modern!aus) struggles with how to raise Angel but genuinely tries his best. His second marriage was entirely to have a mom for her, knowing he was a shit parent. That wasn’t a good marriage and Angel still didn’t get a mom out of it. Angel goes up angry and resentful of her dad and often refuses to call him anything but Jack. She’s angry that he still treats her like a child. She can’t live on her own and needs assistance in common tasks due to her limitations, but can’t stand being treated childishly like his always buying her unicorn themed things and his insistence on not swearing. She struggles to understand that Jack needs these things for himself too and they both just suck at communicating to each other. They circle around each other, in a strange dance, more like roommates than family. Angel works for Jack as his security expert and hacker/spy. She was instrumental in him taking over Hyperion.

Good Dad... like beforementioned, this is hardly a thing. The good times are mostly in her early youth.

Angel is a lesbian and in okay or good settings falls for Gaige. Jack is very not okay with his daughter dating an openly Anarchist Anti-Cooperate Terrorist who has built death machines. They met online and spend nearly every night having hour long conversations. Gaige makes her feel more normal and nonbroken than anything else in her life ever has.

Random:

Tiny Tina is trans. I read this in a fic and it’s just canon now.

Zer0 is a nonbinary cyborg. They have had most of their body replaced and generally don’t want to be human, so they took matters into hand to make that happen. They feel kinship for Rhys because of this and are growing fond of the awkward man and proud of his bravery foolishness for going into battle despite having no skill. Zer0 and Tim fight well side by side but they do NOT get along outside of combat.

Nisha is aromantic and pansexual and only doms. Her whip very much is used in the bedroom. She and Jack are always off again on again.

Maya is aro/ace and a total badass.

Sasha and Rhys date for a while but end it mutually finding they fit better as friends than lovers.

Gaige helps Rhys make his new cybernetics and he has to argue with her to not install more than one weapon in the new arm or lasers in his eye.

Wilhelm was always going to die of Bone Waste and the surgeries and cybernetics were just delaying the inevitable. Jack set him up to die, but it was willingly on Wil’s part because he didn’t want to die in a hospital but in a huge and epic fight that would be the stuff of legends.

Vaughn is aromantic and sex nonpulsed and he and Rhys are platonic bros for life. Rhys is 100% okay with this and anyone else in his life has to accept his deep love for his bro.

(I’m sure I’m forgetting a lot, but this is long enough for now, oops)

#borderlands #tales from the borderlands #borderlands head canon #handsome jack #timothy lawrence #rhys the company man #random ramblings #My writing #long post

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ingridgovaninsights · 7 years

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The Elliott Chapters- Part 4

With Victoria gone, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. And I didn’t mean that in an emotional way- I’d been distancing myself for a long time now. Not in a financial way, either- my job alone made more than enough to pay for the apartment (and I set it up in that way on purpose). What I meant was I had no idea what to physically do. I almost felt like I had to get up and do something, like that would be the normal thing to do after something so supposedly tragic happened. Some people might have gotten up to watch her out the window, make sure she safely got into a car or met up with a trusted friend; some might feel angry after the fact and scream into a pillow.

I didn’t feel like doing any of these things, but I think it was almost expected. Well, was it expected if no one was around to expect it? If the tree falls in the forest…

Instead of acting in an emotionally charged way, I simply started to make myself a late breakfast. Well, it was late for me. Some fried eggs and bacon, maybe a slice of toast. I connected my phone to my BlueTooth speakers, and put on “Cold Fire” by Rush. Out of character for me, I played it as loud as it would go:

It was long after midnight

When we got to unconditional love

She said, “sure my heart is boundless

But don’t push my limits too far”

I said, “if love was so transcendent

I don’t understand these boundaries”

She said, “just don’t disappoint me

You know how complex women are”

The song resonated with me. I really related to the lyrics, and no, I didn’t think women were “complex” in an offensive way… quite the opposite. I found them complex in an interesting way- some of them more than others. And suddenly there I was, throwing all women into one single category. At least it wasn’t an offensive category. People got too easily offended, which was another thing I didn’t understand.

My mother always used to say to me, “don’t file all women into one category, Elliott. It’s disrespectful. We are all individuals with our own traits and personalities. You can’t make such sweeping statements.”

Why do stereotypes exist, then? I tried to argue this with her, for instance by saying women tend to be more sensitive than men, and my mother lost it on me- maybe in a way that means I won the argument?

Charlotte never got angry or offended by me. Not really, anyways. Rather, she engaged in the discussion, and she knew I was simply trying to debate, just in my own crooked way… a way that some people got triggered by.

Depending on her mood, Victoria would either entertain my ideas or she would fight them relentlessly. When she entertained them, she listened thoroughly and she had lots of great ideas of her own, lots to consider. When she fought me on it, she was a different person- she was angry and bitter. The same person that agreed with what I was saying also firmly disagreed… it was a confusing thing to grasp.

Halfway through “Cold Fire”, I realized today was the day I would normally have my writing class. Now, this was something I was being “forced” to go to; it was never my idea… but a part of me wanted to go this week. I thought about Jeff, my instructor, and how maybe he would want to grab a beer again afterwards. That could be nice.

I really didn’t want to see Charlotte- rather, it wasn’t a good idea. Seeing her would likely trigger some unresolved feelings… and I was already trying to deal with a new, big change in my life- Victoria leaving. I couldn’t add more confusion to the mix.

But I did have the whole day to kill before the class… I could simply see what Charlotte was up to… No, that wouldn’t end well.

It was strange- I was the person to always follow reason before my emotions. But sometimes with Charlotte I found myself struggling…

***

I decided to do what I did best- I went for an extremely long car ride. I had all the windows down, going well over the speed limit. I was on the highway. I passed people with ease, many giving me shocked looks or flipping me the bird.

I remember getting my license as soon as I was able to at age sixteen, and though I was only twenty-one now, I had probably driven more kilometers than most people at the end of their twenties. I might even have more kilometers than some in their thirties… and I wasn’t exaggerating, either. Driving was an escape for me.

But it began as a necessity- leading up to my sixteenth birthday, my parents constantly asked me about it; in fact, they more so expected it. My mother couldn’t drive anymore, and with my father working so often, she couldn’t go out anywhere, or even get to her appointments. I knew I had to help her out, even though I’d helped out far more than the average child ever would.

When I finished writing the test and received my paper claiming I had passed, my father gave me a simple pat on the back. It was a “congratulations, son”, but in a way where he wouldn’t have to utter those words. I always wondered why that scared him so much.

Thinking about this, I stepped on the gas a little harder than I should’ve. I’ve always been hungry for speed, which perhaps had something to do with the urge to run away from everything that my life was.

“You drive like you had to be there yesterday,” my mother would say, gripping onto the handle that the passenger side provided.

A couple of people honked at me, threw their arms up as if to say, the hell, man? But I didn’t care. Sometimes it was quite freeing not to care so much. If Victoria were in the car with me, depending on her mood she’d either scream at me to let her out, or she would be screaming in joy out the window, blasting some trashy rap song and flipping her hair around madly.

If Charlotte were in the car, well… come to think of it, I might not drive that fast if she were sitting with me. She would probably advise against it, giving me some statistics on speeding and car crashes within the past couple of years, and then kind of shrug and say, “but it’s your choice, really”.

I really liked that about Charlotte- everything was a choice; nothing was absolute. I thought about how much fun Charlotte and I used to have, racing across town blasting a song maybe by Rush or the Tragically Hip… no particular destination in mind. And there was never any pressure to pick a destination… she simply enjoyed coming along for the ride.

Okay, Elliott, I told myself, you’re idealizing her again. You’re not being realistic. She is not the be-all and end-all…

Individuals with Asperger's Syndrome most certainly experience emotions- we just might experience them differently, or not know how to express them. It’s a ridiculous notion to think we are void of feeling anything- we’re not robots for Christ’s sake. Sure, a lot of scenarios I can reason my way out of and look at objectively; perhaps I was better at this than a lot of people. But with Charlotte, I was absolutely weak.

As my car lost control from the speed and started to spin off of the road, I swear I could see Charlotte shaking her head at me…

“You’re one of the smartest people I know, but sometimes you can be so fucking stupid.”

***

I woke up in a hospital bed.

Surrounded by white on everything, my eyes felt like they were burning. I didn’t notice the pain until I tried to roll over- it was an excruciating pain, throughout my entire body… and I had a fairly high pain tolerance.

My vision was a little foggy; perhaps I was drugged up on painkillers. Most likely. There, at the foot of the bed, was Charlotte, watching me with a kind of horror in her eyes. It had been a long time since I’d seen her. She looked like she was doing better; her eyes looked brighter and she looked like she’d been brushing her hair. Her wavy brown hair was getting quite long- it went all the way down to her hips. What did she do with all of that hair?

I couldn’t find the strength to actually say anything, so I waited for her to speak first. And sure enough, she did- I bet she had a lot to say; I knew her well enough to know that. Surely she wanted to lecture me about how I was driving recklessly, or say “I told you so”... not in a malicious way; rather, she would say it lovingly…

“You look kind of like you either don’t want to talk or you physically can’t,” she said, reading my mind, “so I’ll go ahead. Elliott, I really wish I could ask what’s going on and I wish for once you would tell me. I feel like nowadays we’re only really making small talk, and I miss when we could be honest with each other. And yes, I know you had an accident, that’s not what I mean when I ask what’s happened.”

I coughed, and my chest felt like it was going to burst. Okay, maybe I would refrain from coughing. Christ, were the painkillers even working? I didn’t want to know what it would feel like without them…

The pain was so great I had trouble even focusing on what Charlotte was saying to me. I wanted to talk with her, not have her talk to me… like we were having coffee again…

“Do you want me to call Victoria for you?” she asked, holding up her cell phone. “Just shake or nod your head, okay? You don’t have to speak if you don’t wanna.”

Slowly, I shook my head. I couldn’t handle her right now. Her reaction would be explosive- she would come storming in, not asking but demanding what was going on… she would accuse me of attention seeking behaviour, and that I was just trying to get her to feel bad for me. I knew her reaction so well, as if she had already come in and said it.

But I really didn’t need people who weren’t going to be there for me. It was a difficult decision to make, but it was necessary. Victoria was going to do more damage than anything. Charlotte didn’t push or pry. She just nodded.

“Is your family coming in?”

I shrugged. Who knows if they’d decide to show? That’s how you really know who cares about you- who decides to show up when you’re strapped to a hospital bed.

“Okay. Well, I’m here, okay? I won’t go anywhere until you tell me to get lost.”

I smirked at that. She stepped closer, and then took a seat beside me on the bed. We stared at each other for what seemed to be a long time, as if I were telling her the whole story with my eyes. Charlotte knew there was more to it than a few cracked ribs and perhaps a concussion. I mean, I’d been in car accidents before- no big deal really- but the timing was too suspicious. My life had been a disaster as of late.

Our silent storytelling time was interrupted as an unexpected guest appeared in the doorway- Jeff, my writing class instructor. He was dressed down today- perhaps he only dressed fancy for his classes- he wore a red tank top with some faded blue jeans and flip flops. He wore wide-rimmed black glasses, and he was unshaven, sporting a scruffy beard. His brown eyes were full of pure concern.

“Elliott,” he said, as if out of breath, “Elliott, Elliott, Elliott.”

He approached us and held out his hands, giving a sad sort of smile. He was the type of person that gained joy from bringing others joy. Wasn’t my style, but I could admire and appreciate it. It certainly worked on most people- I even found myself cracking a smile. He was a good guy.

It was really refreshing that my two guests didn’t bombard me with questions or accusations, they were simply there, ready to listen if need be, but mostly just there to be a source of support and comfort. Because all I really wanted to do was close my eyes…

I guess I had been drifting off, because I was jolted awake by Charlotte’s soft hand brushing against mine. I was quite sensitive to touch. Normally anything touching me in that way- delicately, almost with uncertainty- would make me recoil, but Charlotte’s touch was a welcome one. I watched her with sleepy eyes. She smiled.

All the while, Jeff stood over us, chuckling quietly to himself. He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture.

“Would you look at you guys,” he said.

***

My family never ended up visiting me, which was no surprise really, but still a bit disappointing. I was used to it now, though. My brothers were all living out of town now, so surely it would be difficult for them to get here…

There I was, making excuses. Their little brother got into a car accident and they couldn’t find a way to come see me? Okay, it was a little fucked up. But you really do get used to what you were raised with- it’s all you know.

They released me from the hospital a couple of days later, which was generous and I didn’t think I needed to stay, but they insisted. The doctors said considering the accident I had I was in fairly good shape- my car, on the other hand, was pretty much destroyed. Perhaps I could use some of it for parts…

I wasn’t allowed to drive until I stopped with the painkillers and I started feeling better, so Charlotte picked me up from the hospital. One of the nurses pushed me outside in a wheelchair, and I was starting to get annoyed. I didn’t need a fucking wheelchair. Crutches would do, but I’d probably be fine even without those.

My mom always said I try too hard to “act tough”, but I really just have a high pain tolerance so not much will bother me. When I tried biking as a kid- God, I really hate biking, I look like such an idiot- I wiped out because, well, bikes are awkward. I was probably eight or nine. The other kids were shocked I wasn’t crying or screaming. I stood up, brushed off my pants, and said “what?”

When I went inside that evening with a skinned knee and blood appearing through my shirt, my mom looked at me, shocked, from her bed.

“Elliott,” she had said, “you’re bleeding, honey!”

My dad had just walked in the room, he’d just gotten home from work. He yawned, pulled off his socks and said, “oh, he’ll survive.”

“No, no,” my mother said, “come here, honey.”

I rolled my eyes and went over to my mother, who inspected my wounds. She was touching me lightly, and I just wanted to recoil… I jumped and stepped back.

“Mom!” I practically screamed, giving her a look as if to say you should know better. I could almost still feel her fingers on my skin, like little pinpricks.

“I was just trying to help,” Mom whispered; and now looking back on it I realize she was upset and did have good intentions, but I was too blinded to see it.

I was brought back to reality by Charlotte calling out to me, and the nurse carefully lifting me from the chair. When I looked at Charlotte, I realized I had no idea what I was going to do. I probably couldn’t work- I mean, I was fine, but my manager would insist I take some time off for my injuries; Victoria was gone; now I would be left to my own devices. Though I used to enjoy being alone almost to a fault, I was starting forget how to do it.

Charlotte helped me into the passenger seat of her car- I remember when she was too afraid to learn how to drive- and then she ran over to her side and turned the keys. Charlotte was far more mature than she used to be. A few years ago, I would have said with certainty that I was the more mature one, despite being younger. But nowadays, maybe I am the one that needs to get myself in check. Charlotte was doing pretty well for herself, and truly deserved that happiness after going through such a struggle. Me, on the other hand- I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on.

“So, how do you feel?” she asked me, keeping her eyes forward as she got us out of the parking lot.

I shrugged. “I can’t complain, really. I could have gotten killed, but I didn’t.”

“Well, I mean, how do you feel- are you sore still? Did you get a prescription or shall we swing by the pharmacy to get you something? Anything at all.”

Why was she always so nice? I wasn’t used to people being so nice, without there being some sort of catch. Charlotte didn’t get anything out of this- she was doing it out of the kindness of her heart. Similarly, I can recall many times where I picked her up in times of trouble and expected nothing in return. As my mom would say, it’s all about the give and take. You don’t just get to take, take, take and take until the person is completely depleted, just like you can’t expect to give all the time without the favor ever being returned. My mom always used to try and teach me that growing up, because it’s something I used to struggle with. I didn’t pick up on when people got upset or bored- for instance, when I was talking on and on about cars without asking them anything or listening to any of their stories.

My mom would say, “Elliott, you can get a good idea about what someone is thinking by looking at their facial expressions and their body language. For example, if the person keeps looking away and fidgeting, they might be getting bored, or perhaps they’re anxious.”

“How can I tell if a girl likes me?” I asked. “This girl in my class keeps staring at me and smiling, sometimes giggling as if something is funny. I don’t really get why she can’t just tell me if she likes me.”

“It’s not always that easy,” my mom had said. “Maybe she does like you, but she’s nervous. But a lot of the time, you can just tell by the way she is acting around you. I think you’ve already got the right idea- it sounds like she might like you.”

“So what do I do?” I asked her.

“Well, if you like her, you should tell her,” Mom said to me. “What have you got to lose? Just… don’t be too creepy about it.”

Suddenly, Charlotte was snapping me out of it yet again. She waved her hand infront of my face. I had to stop daydreaming like that, just drawing blanks out of nowhere- it likely freaked people out.

“Elliott? Do you wanna go to the pharmacy?”

“Right. The pharmacy. Maybe we could get some chocolate milk?”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “Chocolate milk… really, Elliott?”

It was an inside joke, but I was pretty serious that I actually did want chocolate milk. Hell, I deserved it after all I went through. Anyways, when I first got my license I was really excited about it, because it meant I wouldn’t have to rely on anybody else to get me anywhere, which was something I always felt bad about. I also always had an avid interest in cars and driving. The very same day I got my license, I picked up Charlotte and we went for a drive.

Charlotte had just finished a shift at work, so she was quite tired. Her hair was a mess, but she still looked beautiful. She dragged herself into my car and plopped down into the seat, sighing.

“Why do you always do a big sigh like that after work?” I had asked her, slightly annoyed. “Everyone has to work. Why are you so dramatic about it?”

“I’m on my feet all day, okay?” she snapped. She put her feet up on the dashboard- something she did that I really didn’t like, but I allowed because she was special, and her feet hurt.

“Okay,” I said, deciding I wouldn’t ever quite understand. “Where do you want to go?”

“It would really make me happy if we could get some good chocolate milk,” she said.

I was surprised by her answer. “What is considered ‘good chocolate milk’?”

“You know the kind they sell at the pizza place in the mall food court? That kind. Except the mall isn’t open at this hour. So… I’m not really sure where to get it.”

“Okay, well let’s try a couple grocery stores, then.”

We went to the closest grocery stores, and they didn’t have the brand Charlotte considered to be the “best”. We definitely found chocolate milk, but it wasn’t the same apparently. Charlotte insisted we just buy the one we found, but something told me we had to keep looking.

Perhaps I was just eager to drive around in my new car, and maybe it was simply because I had no other plans that night, but the look of gratitude in Charlotte’s eyes made me want to do it especially for her. She was that grateful for a carton of chocolate milk. That grateful for me.

After nearly two hours of hunting down just the right brand, we finally found it at a sketchy gas station on the edge of town. It was especially difficult to find since everything was closed early on Sundays. It was a real challenge, for sure. But the level of satisfaction she expressed to me made the whole thing worth it. I remember she was grinning from ear to ear, and her eyes lit up when she looked at me. She was truly grateful. And then she shocked me when she reached out and fell into my arms for the first hug I’d received in years.

My parents never hugged me. My siblings never hugged me. They knew how much I didn’t like to be hugged, but Charlotte didn’t know that.

I’m kind of glad she didn’t.

#creative writing #writing blog #mental health #mental health blog #the charlotte chapters #anxiety #depression #short story #novella #writing #writers of tumblr #aspiring author

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mst3kproject · 7 years

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407: The Killer Shrews

Whatever else one might say about The Killer Shrews, it is a huge step up from The Giant Gila Monster in at least one respect – it is actually about the titular monsters, and those monsters actually interact with the human characters! So far, so good. Then we get to the monsters themselves, and... oh, dear. This movie wouldn't quite be better without the shrews in the way that last week's feature would without the lizard, but they're still a very significant problem for what would otherwise be a serviceable film.

A small boat arrives at a remote island off the coast of wherever this is (the opening narration suggests the Pacific Northwest). Captain Sherman and his redshirt buddy are there to deliver supplies to a scientific outpost, but plan to stay overnight in order to ride out an approaching hurricane (meaning it can't possibly be the Pacific Northwest). This is treated as bad news by Mad Scientist Dr. Marlowe Cragis and his assistant and daughter Anne. After some beating around the bush as night closes in, Cragis confesses that he has created a species of giant, nocturnal, venomous, man-eating rodent. With supplies running low, the group must make a break for the boat in the morning – if only they can first survive the night!

At its barest and boniest this is the plot of Alien, The Thing, Friday the Thirteenth, The Green Slime, and god knows how many other movies: a small group of people are stranded in the middle of nowhere with something that wants to kill them. They're picked off one by one, usually ethnic stereotypes first, until the last desperate survivors must destroy their foe and get to the choppah for rescue. Although there are some very good movies with this premise, there are also some thoroughly terrible ones. The Killer Shrews is pretty mediocre, but does its best with the material and sometimes comes surprisingly close to success.

In the average 'trapped with a monster' movie, the characters are either completely dull or utterly detestable – the latter option usually makes for a more entertaining film, since we can at least take some vindictive joy in watching these assholes get killed. The Killer Shrews has its share of nobodies: Griswold the first mate and Mario the janitor are the aforementioned ethnic stereotypes, who are in the movie so it can put off the deaths of the white people. Uber-nerd Bradford feels like he ought to be a joke but never gets a punchline. He dies pretty quickly, too.

The rest of the dramatis personae, however, have a little more meat on their metaphorical bones: Dr. Cragis is fascinated by the shrews' single-minded and ruthless survival instincts, admiring their effectiveness even as they threaten his life. Anne is as consumed by guilt over her own role in creating the monsters as she is by her fear of them. Her crush on Sherman and semi-frantic attempts to endear herself to him seem to have more to do with the fact that he represents a chance of escape than with any real attraction. Jerry's determination to finish the experiments, in spite of his cowardice, stems from a desperate need to atone for his past mistakes. Captain Sherman is supposed to be our hero, but there's a point when the others nearly have to physically intervene to stop him from throwing Jerry to the shrews. Everybody in this film has been pushed to the edge of sanity.

So what keeps it from being effective? There's a few things. One is the acting – Ingrid Goude as Anne and Baruch Lumet as Dr. Craigis are pretty good, but the other major players tend to be too low-key to really be convincing. The one exception is Ken Curtis as Jerry, who overplays everything just that crucial tiny bit. Whether drunk, paranoid, or hysterical, he tends to end up sounding like he's in a high school play.

As with The Giant Gila Monster, we begin with a voiceover that provides us with a completely different origin for the monsters than the actual story will do. Here the narrator tells us that this is a new species, which first appeared in Alaska before moving south into Canada. The subsequent movie, however, informs us that the shrews were the product of mad science (and for once there’s an actual justification for the experiments besides ‘let’s see if we can create a monster’. Cragis was studying the relationship between size and metabolism). Seeing as one of the characters claims to have created the shrews himself, I'm going to go with his version rather than Mr. Voiceover's, but it does make me think the opening narrations wern't originally part of either movie.

There's too much exposition. The script spends a very long time emphasizing the voraciousness of the shrews through dialogue, and while this does also establish a certain amount of character, it would have been far more effective to show us the small shrews ravenous' appetites. Our imaginations could then have done the job of scaling it up – the idea of being gnawed to death by rats is truly horrifying, and being gnawed by giant rats would hardly be less so. Having typed that, however, I realized that doing this in 1959 for this particular movie would probably have involved forcing a couple of cute mice to fight to the death, as many times as necessary to get the shot right. So on second thought, never mind.

The music is unsubtle but it works all right. Same with the direction, which is actually another marked step up from The Giant Gila Monster. For the most part Kellogg still just points the camera at what's happening and films, but at least people move around within some of the shots and display body language rather than just putting a leg up on the nearest ledge.

We get no real impression of the hurricane itself besides hearing the howling wind – I don't think there's a single shot in which we are in any way aware of rain. Just the sound of it hammering on the roof would have done wonders for the feeling of claustrophobia the movie is trying to create.

I think you know what I'm working up to here, though. While there's a lot of minor adjustments that could have been made to help The Killer Shrews, the main problem is the actual shrews. They're among the least-convincing monsters in film history. Trailer Club 70 included them in its bottom five, along with the jellyfish man from Sting of Death and the turkey-headed vampire from Blood Freak.

How do you depict a giant rodent in a movie? Well, if you're Rob Reiner, you throw a big latex puppet at Carey Elwes. If you're Bert I. Gordon, you film actual rats in extreme close-up and pretend they match your amusingly adorable fake rat heads. If you're Bruno Mattei, you put rat masks on your actors and leave the audience wondering what the fuck they're watching (god, I've seen way too many movies). And if you're Ray Kellogg, you shave a bunch of dogs and hope we won't notice.

Well, okay, that's not fair: not every shrew in the movie is a shaved dog. Some of them are dogs with ratty-looking fake fur draped over them. Others are puppet heads with long 'fangs' that look like a third-grader's attempt at a saber-toothed tiger prop for a home-made caveman movie. All of them are tragically cheap and completely unconvincing. The heads are immobile, so in the shots where a shrew is supposed to be biting somebody, all we see is the puppet's nose being rubbed against a pre-bloodied trouser leg. In another scene a 'shrew' enters the room, and is not only obviously a dog, it's a dog that's happy to see you! I have never seen a shot so entirely ruined by ordinary canine body language (though bits of Teenage Caveman come damn close).

Considering the sorts of things I tend to talk about on this blog, you're probably wondering why I haven't said anything yet about Anne's decision to give up science and become a housewife. Truth is, that's just not high on the list of things that suck remarkably about The Killer Shrews. I mean, yeah, it's definitely sexist, but it's handled so much better here than the comparable development in Rocketship XM that I have kind of a hard time being angry about it. Dr. Van Hoorne supposedly came to realize that the men were right and she was wrong, despite all narrative evidence to the contrary. Anne Cragis' retirement is her choice, not imposed upon her by the male characters, and emerges organically from her own story.

The men in Rocketship XM asked Dr. Van Hoorne why cooking and cleaning and changing diapers isn't enough for her. In The Killer Shrews, Sherman asks Anne whether she's a scientist in the obvious expectation of a 'yes', and listens sympathetically while she talks about it. When she states her choice to retire and lead a 'normal' life, he is supportive of this without placing a value judgment on it. The fact that Anne is the only woman in the film makes it very difficult not to see her as the writer's stand-in for all women everywhere, but there is at least no explicit statement that science is no place for women. It's a low bar, but hey.

Remember Terror from the Year 5000, in which a woman promptly abandoned her fiance when the hero appeared on the scene? This happens in The Killer Shrews as well, but again, it's less annoying here. Unlike Claire and Bob, Anne and Sherman actually get to know each other a little over the course of the story. Her engagement with Jerry is already ended, for completely understandable reasons, and Sherman represents both her potential escape from the island and a person who listens to her respectfully rather than trying to impose his own will. It's still a useless romantic subplot that exists to add artificial drama, but we have reasons why these characters behave as they do and it feels more like part of the same story rather than a distraction from it.

All things considered, I'm left with the impression that if writer Jay Simms and director Ray Kellogg had wanted to make movies that did not have giant mutant animals in them and had been given a bit of money to do so, they probably could have done a pretty good job. The two movies they did make are a long way from masterpieces, but there are some surprisingly good things in them for those who care to stop riffing and look.

#mst3k #reviews #the killer shrews #50s

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russellthornton · 7 years

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Smartass Quotes: 48 Smart and Sarcastic Lines that Kick Ass

Some days were meant for playing nice, others for firing off smartass quotes to everyone who’s bugging you. Here are 46 quotes to get you started.

Everyone loves a smartass. In fact, people love sarcasm, which makes it a great outlet to get all of that pent up resentment out while slapping a smile on your face. So what’s the most effective way to get out your frustrations while still coming off like the lovable stud/studette that you are? Smartass quotes.

If you have ever been offended by someone with nothing but a gaping mouth and a figurative puff of smoke as a response, you know how tragic a lack of a comeback can feel.

It’s these harrowing situations that wake you out of a sound sleep suddenly fresh with dozens of snappy one-liners you wish you would have said. Nasty ex sniffing around? There’s a smartass quote for that. Friend making bad life choices? There’s a smartass quote for that.

Don’t go through life unprepared! We’re giving you 46 smartass quotes for life, breakups, comebacks, and general advice to live by.

Advice smartass quotes

Sometimes life leads you astray with no one to turn to. That’s where we come in! If you’re looking for a sassier way to go through life, these smartass quotes with advice are sure to help. [Read: 101 awesomely good comebacks for every occasion]

#1 “I always say ‘Morning’ instead of ‘Good Morning,’ because if it was a good morning, I would still be in my bed and not talking to people.”

#2 “Some days you eat salads and go to the gym. Some days you eat cupcakes and refuse to put on pants. It’s called balance.”

#3 “Face your problems, don’t Facebook them.”

#4 “God gave men both a penis and a brain, but unfortunately not enough blood supply to run both at the same time.” – Robin Williams

#5 “You can’t make somebody love you. You can only stalk them and hope for the best.” [Read: 55 funny quotes about love and all its complications]

#6 “Women are like iPhones. You have to touch them all over before they respond. Men are like Blackberries. Rub one ball and everything moves.”

#7 “I love asking kids what they want to be when they grow up because I’m still looking for ideas.”

#8 “I’m not very good at advice. May I interest you in a sarcastic comment, instead?” – Chandler, Friends

#9 “When I feel down and someone tells me to ‘suck it up,’ I get the urge to break their legs with a baseball bat and then say ‘walk it off.’”

Breakup smartass quotes

Love is grand, until it isn’t. That’s when you’ll want to have an arsenal of coy, yet hilarious, comebacks ready in your back pocket. Want to know whether you should be kicking your lover to the curb? These smartass quotes about breakups are sure to help you out.

#10 “Shut up with the back talk, because if I wanted lip from you, I’d sit on your face” – L.A. Casey, Dominic [Read: 11 profound relationship quotes everyone can relate to]

#11 “If you’re cooler than me, would that make me hotter than you?”

#12 “You were my cup of tea, but I drink champagne now.”

#13 “Unless you are a pizza, the answer is yes, I can live without you.” – Bill Murray

#14 “Sorry, I’m not Adele. I don’t wish the best for you, nor do I want to find someone like you. I do, however, want to set fire to all of your stuff.” [Read: All the quotes you need while going through a breakup]

#15 “You cross my mind only on Thursday morning. That’s the day when I take out the garbage.”

#16 “Thanks for dating someone ugly after we broke up.”

#17 “Relationships are a lot like Algebra. Have you ever looked at your X and wondered Y?”

#18 “What’s a Queen without her King? Well, historically speaking, more powerful.”

#19 “I’m going back to living my fabulous life before you interrupted it to remind me that there are still assholes in this world.”

#20 “When your ex says, ‘You’ll never find anyone like me’ reply with: ‘that’s the point.’”

#21 “Today I saw something that reminded me of you. Don’t worry, I flushed and everything went back to normal.”

#22 “My ex had one very annoying habit. Breathing.” [Read: Being single – 30 happy, inspiring quotes for singles]

Smartass quotes to live by

Don’t let someone else dictate how you live your life. You do you, Pikachu. Whether you’re looking to tell it like it is, or offer someone a confusing truth about human behavior, these 11 quotes to live by are sure to help you out.

#23 “It’s better to be late than to arrive ugly.” – Marilyn Monroe

#24 “Thanks for pretending not to see me when I was pretending not to see you in order to avoid a miserably awkward conversation that neither of us wanted to have.”

#25 “Oh, hey, kettle, I’m pot and wow, you’re black.” – Olivia Cunning, Tie Me

#26 “You think I’m cute when I’m angry? Well get ready, because I’m about to be gorgeous.”

#27 “If I’m a sarcastic asshole when I talk to you, it’s either because I really like you and feel comfortable teasing you, or I really hate you and don’t care if you know it. Good luck figuring out which one.”

#28 “The only reason I’m fat is because a tiny body couldn’t store all this personality.” [Read: How to be funny and make people love your company]

#29 “You know a girl is mad when she starts off her sentence saying: “I just find it funny how… ” Because there is a 99.9% chance she did not find it funny.”

#30 “Being an adult is mostly being exhausted, wishing you hadn’t made any plans, and trying to figure out how the hell you hurt your back.”

#31 “My girlfriend woke up this morning with a huge smile on her face… I love sharpies.”

#32 “Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until they speak.” – Steven Wright

#33 “If Cinderella’s shoe fit perfectly, then why did it fall off?”

Insulting smartass quotes

Is someone being a total dick and you’re at a loss for what to say? Don’t go down that road. It’s torturous. You don’t want to be that person who could literally write a book about what you wish you would have said. Here are the best insulting smartass quotes we could find. Because sometimes, people just need to be told.

#34 “I’m actually not funny. I’m just mean and people think I’m joking.”

#35 “Tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip.” – Winston Churchill

#36 “I can only please one person a day. Today isn’t your day. Tomorrow doesn’t look good either.”

#37 “If you’re going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty.” -Marilyn Monroe

#38 “I’m not insulting you, I’m describing you.”

#39 “Sometimes I wish I was a bird… so I could fly over certain people and shit on their heads.”

#40 “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings when I called you stupid. I really thought you already knew.” [Read: 45 Saddest lost love quotes for the broken-hearted]

#41 “Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.” – Oscar Wilde

#42 “If you ran as much as you ran your mouth, you’d be in great shape.”

#43 “Look officer, I’m not being a smartass. All I’m saying is, if you caught me, then you were speeding too.”

#44 “Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you’ll find a brain back there.”

#45 “If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen.”

#46 “I typed ‘Bitch’ into my GPS and guess what? I’m in your driveway.”

[Read: Ready to charm? How to be witty and win anyone over]

There you have it. From the greats to the random internet memes, this was a list of 46 smartass quotes for life, ex-loves, and general sassiness. Hope that helped raise your smartass quota for the week.

The post Smartass Quotes: 48 Smart and Sarcastic Lines that Kick Ass is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.

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