#my problems with sj let me show you them

[megalony]

An eventful night

I haven’t done a Sonny Carisi imagine for a while now but I’ve gotten back into my SVU writing. I hope you all will like this one, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie​​ @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr​​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​​ @sj-thefan​​ @omgitsearly​​ @luckytrashgooprebel​​ @scarsout​​ @deaky-with-a-c​​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​​ @vousmemanqueez-blog​​ @jonesyaddiction​​ @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​​ @saint-hardy​​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​​ @mrsalwayswritex​​ @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​ @crazylittlethingg​​ @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod​​ @ceres27​​ @avyannadawn​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​

Masterlist

Summary: Sonny agrees to go undercover with (Y/n) in a sex trafficking ring, but he can’t stop her getting hurt.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"(Y/n)? Would you infiltrate, he knows Amanda but he hasn't seen you yet."

"I'll go with her, he hasn't seen me either and it'll be safer."

Why did she agree to this? The mere thought of going undercover in a sex trafficking ring at a pimping party set her skin on edge and made her stomach churn horribly. She could get hurt, someone could try get handsy with her and she would break her cover fighting them off. What if she got cornered and hurt or assaulted?

Her nerves were barely controlled on the job, how would she be going under cover like this?

But Sonny was going with her. He wasn't about to let her go into a room full of pimps without at least one person in there with her that she knew and could trust. And who better to go in there with her than her own boyfriend. He could have her on his arm, wrap himself around her like a vine as he always does and get snarky with anyone trying to touch her and they wouldn't wonder why because she would be his girl.

A tingle ran down (Y/n)'s spine when her eyes cast down to look at what she was wearing for what felt like the hundredth time in a minute.

She had on a tight-fitting bright crimson dress with ruffles along the waist and spaghetti straps on the arms. The dress appraised her curves and figure lovely but the problem was that the hem barely covered her bum and sat on the very tops of her thighs. If she moved in the wrong way it would become a long shirt rather than a dress and her matching red lace underwear would be on show for everyone to leer at.

Her hands moved to pull down the dress again, wanting it at least another two inches down her thighs just to feel safe and protected but it slowly ruffled its way back up her legs again.

Her lips were smeared a darker shade of red and her hair was pinned up in a sultry style that always had Sonny on edge.

When her eyes landed on Sonny, her stomach tensed but for a different reason this time. His hair was slicked back into a curly wave as usual, but he was wearing black, high waisted trousers that clung to and showed off his hips. Tucked into the waistband of the trousers was the white dress shirt he wore which he had rolled up at the sleeves and the first two buttons undone. He was a sight for lustering eyes but when his own eyes found (Y/n), they seemed to widen like dark pools filling with desire.

"Wow... you look stunning, doll."

Sonny advanced over to (Y/n) and wrapped an arm around her lower waist before he pressed his lips to her temple, not wanting to smudge the rouge on her lips just yet.

"Careful Mr Carisi, you're on camera." A smirk pulled at (Y/n)'s lips when her eyes cast down to her cleavage and her finger tapped at the ruby hanging on a chain around her neck. It looked simple enough, the people they were investigating would know anyone in their group couldn't afford a real gem. But it would be impossible for any of them to realise that it was really a secret hidden camera to record the nights events.

"I'll have to bear that in mind, you ready?"

(Y/n) took a deep breath and tried one last failed attempt to pull down her dress before she nodded and walked ahead towards the lift.

"Sonny!" His name came out in a gasp when (Y/n) felt his hand come down and land a loud smack to her ass.

"What, I'm just getting into character." He shrugged his shoulders with a smirk that could kill, knowing that his girl was blushing because they were still in the precinct and eyes were now burning holes into them.

It was going to be an eventful night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Casting his eyes to the right, Sonny watched (Y/n) accept a glass of wine with a sultry smile, noticing her lipstick smearing around the rim of the glass with wine as red as her dress. He watched her hips sway and bounce from side to side as she slowly passed between the people dotted around the room. Her head dipping down as a silent hello, batting her lashes at a few people to try and make herself fit in.

He didn't like the way people were looking at her.

Granted, Sonny knew they were looking at her in a hungry, devouring way because they expected every girl here to be limitless and available to them and their looks meant that (Y/n) was blending in just fine. But he still didn't like it. Their eyes were looking far too long at his girl, the one he was here to protect and keep a watchful eye on.

If he lost sight of her for even a minute, someone could try and whisk her away to a secluded room and that was not going to happen.

Moving around, Sonny sat himself down on the end seat of the sofa to his left and took a swig of the beer in his hand. He had to at least look like he was meant to be here and enjoying himself somewhat.

"Hmm, fancy coming with me to the back for some... fun?"

A shudder ran down the base of (Y/n)'s spine at the crude tone of voice coming from a rather sleezy looking man. His grin showed crooked, discoloured teeth and his breath reeked of alcohol, more prominently, of gin. (Y/n) could practically feel the grease dripping off him and when he slid up close to her side she had to stop herself from gagging and try to look a little swayed. She was meant to be a sex worker, a girl who was hurt into submission, told that no was not something she could say.

She was supposed to pretend to be easy-going, up for anything and anyone because that was how every other girl and woman was at this party and she couldn't stick out like a sore thumb.

"Ha, you'd have to ask the boss about that." (Y/n) darted her tongue over her lips before pressing them together and tilting her head down, smiling devilishly at the revolting man. She curled a strand of hair around her finger before consciously biting her finger to try and put on a seductive show.

Her head turned in Sonny's direction but it seemed that he had heard the conversation so a desperate look wasn't needed to get him to help her out.

His arm swooped out in one swift motion and curled around her waist like a hook that reeled her in. His fingers sank softly into her hip but with a firmness that showed the protectiveness inside him was growing. Sonny effortlessly pulled (Y/n) down to sit on his lap, his heart jumping at the sound of her surprised giggle before she made herself comfy against him.

"My girl here is off limits 'til tonight, right sweetheart?" Sonny locked eyes with the drunk pimp whilst he pressed his lips to (Y/n)'s neck, biting the sweet spot beneath her jaw  just to feel her tremble against him like jelly.

(Y/n) could only find it in herself to nod along with his words, unable to speak while his lips were at work against her neck.

Her head tipped back against Sonny's shoulder and she placed light kisses against his neck, feeling a groan grumbling against his Adam's apple at the touch causing his arm to tighten around her waist. At least this way they could stay close and be comfortable with each other without worrying that they were going to draw the wrong kind of attention to themselves tonight.

It felt like hours had passed as more people buzzed into the house, grabbing drinks, spilling drinks, exchanging intimate kisses and touches and drunk girls giggling. (Y/n) had seen a few girls clock out of the room and disappear upstairs before coming back down trying to rearrange their hair and clothes, a few of them with saddened eyes and shaking limbs.

Downing the wine remaining in her glass, (Y/n) tipped her head further back against Sonny's shoulder and the back of the sofa, wishing they were at home instead of this pimp house that reeked of alcohol and drugs.

(Y/n) had shimmied from side to side, turning to make sure the camera in her necklace got a good view of everyone here and all the girls so they could find out who they were and make sure when they raided this place, everyone was accounted for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sonny couldn't keep a close eye on (Y/n) when the raid started.

He had tried to push her behind him the moment the others burst through the door and announced the house was under arrest. He knew that (Y/n) didn't have her gun with her, she managed to tuck her badge into her tights just near her underwear since it was the only concealed place she had on her. But she didn't have anywhere to stash her gun, the dress would outline the bulky weapon too easily and it couldn't exactly stay down her cleavage with the dress being low cut and people constantly leering at her.

But somewhere along the line she had moved from behind him to tackle a pimp trying to run through the kitchen to make a break for his escape and Sonny was too preoccupied on pinning and cuffing the man he had tackled to the floor.

"What are you doing, come on we need to get out!" a girl in a skimpy leaf green dress grabbed (Y/n)'s hand and tried to pull her up the stairs, hoping no officers were there so she could climb out a window and make a break for the streets. All the girls had their own safe places to go and meeting points to get back to their pimps or other working girls.

"The officers will keep you safe, they're not here to hurt you." (Y/n) held the girl's hand, smiling gently to try encourage her down to Olivia.

"I don't know who your fancy man is, but mine won't bail me out if I get caught. W-what are you doing?"

A spark of fear tremored in the girl's stomach when (Y/n) shook her head and reached under her dress to grab her badge.

"If he loved you, he wouldn't sell you for two crumpled notes. Why live like this when you can take a hand and get proper help?" (Y/n) didn't exactly wait for an answer, she used the girl's stunned silence to shock her and drag her down the stairs towards Olivia. The girl was going to protest, it was clear as day in her eyes but (Y/n) didn't have time to debate with her whether she thought she deserved any better than this life.

Bypassing Olivia very swiftly, the girl dodged past Amanda and Sonny and ran through the kitchen, only turning her head when she heard (Y/n)'s voice behind her and saw one of the men beckoning her to hurry and follow him to escape.

Sonny's head snapped to the left when a gunshot rang through the air making them all stop, wondering who started firing again.

A gut-wrenching sound left his lips when he watched (Y/n)'s head snap back towards her back and her body tumbled backwards as if someone had given her a shove off the edge of a cliff. The way she crumbled to the tiled floor made bile jump up Sonny's throat as tears fell from his eyes.

She was shot.

Silent prayers rattled round his head as he skidded and stumbled on the polished floor, discarding his gun before he headed towards his girl. He could see the blood trickling down the side of her head and starting to drip onto the floor like a leaky tap.

"Baby? Oh Doll can you hear me? Baby... baby!"

Sonny's voice trembled but got louder and louder with each syllable until he was almost screaming the words at her begging for her to open her eyes and look at him or wake up or move a finger, just do something. His hands shook as he cupped her face in his palms, trying to see where she had been shot.

Moving his fingers, Sonny dabbed his fingertip against the left side of (Y/n)'s temple, parting her hair so he could see the damage. She was breathing, he could hear the soft scraping noise of air leaving her nostrils but when she fell, he could have sworn the bullet had gone to her head and no one could survive that, surely.

Her hair was soaking with blood, each strand was turning dark rouge, sticking to his fingers like smudged ink or jam and making it harder for him to part her hair to see her scalp and assess the damage. Sonny growled before letting go of (Y/n)'s face and using both hands to part her hair, seeing there was a long gash on the side of her head an inch above her ear. She hadn't been shot like he thought, the bullet had scraped deeply against her head but it wasn't lodged into her skull or skin.

The breath of utter relief that Sonny let out came as a choked cry before he went back to cradling (Y/n)'s face in his hands, smoothing his bloodied thumbs over her skin.

"I need a bus!" He snapped his jaw like a crocodile before his tone changed and he looked back to (Y/n). "Baby... wake up doll, come back round to me."

Scanning his eyes around him, Sonny sat back on his heels and ripped the bottom of his shirt, scrunching it up before he pressed it to the side of (Y/n)'s temple. He had to keep the blood flow at a minimum until she got to the hospital and got the care she needed. He brushed the hair from her face, holding back from shaking her shoulder in a desperate attempt to wake her.

A breathless noise left Sonny's lips when (Y/n)'s eyes slowly started to flutter like the wings of a butterfly. He could see she couldn't get her vision in focus but her lips parted and a dry, croaky gurgle vibrated against her throat and a dribble of blood trickled down her lips.

"Baby, I've got you it's all gonna be okay... baby?"

Sonny couldn't quite work out the look on (Y/n)'s face, her eyes were half lidded, her lips were spitting blood and groaning but it was the way her muscles pinched at the cheeks and her lips moved into a wobbling shape like she was made of wax and starting to melt. He could see (Y/n)'s hand trying to move but she couldn't find the ability or energy to move it properly, only shake it an inch from the ground, her fingers curled at odd angles, shuffling and seeming to indicate to her head.

"You're hurt Doll but I'm gonna take care of you, shh doll don't- what?" Sonny gently took hold of her hand and lowered it back to her side, he didn't know what she was trying to point at or do but she didn't need to burn energy trying to move. She had to stay still in case she had any nerve damage to her head or neck.

Such a noise like a mewling kitten trying to scream left her lips and her face contorted into one of agony making Sonny's heart break deep in his chest.

She couldn't hear him.

(Y/n) was trying to scream, to talk, to make any noise she could but she couldn't hear herself or anything around her. His words weren't comforting because they weren't reaching her ears.

"Okay Doll, let's get you help."

He had to get her outside and see if any medics were about to help, he had to find someone to help her, she'd been shot for God's sake.

Taking extreme car when moving his hands behind (Y/n)'s head and neck, he slowly shifted her head so it was leaning against his shoulder, the rag of shirt pressing to her wound now trapped between her head and his shoulder to keep stemming the blood flow. He could feel her chest vibrating, trying to make some noise and show she was awake and in immense pain but her voice was too quiet for him to make out what she was trying to say.

Sonny slowly slipped an arm under her knees, his other arm protectively and strongly around her upper back before he cradled her to his chest like he was protecting an endangered child.

"I need a medic here! Don't worry Doll, you'll be okay."

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi imagine #imagine #dominic x reader #dominic carisi imagine #dominic carisi #Olivia Benson #Amanda Rollins #law and order #law and order svu

[star-anise]

I'm just kind of exhausted by the perpetual attempt to divide the world into

Good People Like Us, Who Do Good Things, and

Bad People Like Them, Who Do Bad Things.

This happens a lot with demographic-based organizing and activism (eg. feminism, anti-racism), but it's broader than that too. It's also related to society's full-on fabrication of groups to blame for the evils of the world.

Because the truth is, people are complicated, and anyone can do a bad thing or be a Bad Person, however you construct that. You can be a Bad Person. You cannot banish evil to a safe distance; if you're human, you might be better than other people, but the same type of heart beats in you as in them.

But when you've got this Us vs Them mindset, and you discover—gasp, shock, horror!—that someone you see as an Us has done a bad thing, you don't stop and think, "Hey, maybe it doesn't make sense to split the world into these divisions."

Instead people really invested in that mindset come up with reasons the person wasn't really one of Us after all. No True Scotsman, and all that. Or, and this is even more dangerous, they come up with reasons why what that person did wasn't Bad, after all.

I mean, I get it. The world is scary and you want to feel safe, so you want to feel justified in trusting this group of people you're in. I do it too. I try to find the best groups of people to affiliate with so I can trust them.

But the process of holding ourselves and each other accountable, for making sure that we're behaving ethically and living up to our ideals, had to be done as regularly as brushing your teeth, and for the same reasons. If you leave places for rot to fester, it will. A lot of human behaviour is situational, not based on personality; poisonous behaviour will occur where poisonous behaviour is welcome.

And friendship and trust are always a gamble. If you turn out to be wrong and find a knife sticking out of your back, that's not a failure of you for being so foolish as to trust someone. It's the risk we all run for living in an unpredictable universe and interacting with people with free will and moral agency.

#took my last dose of strattera Ever today #so this might not make sense! #but I have 10 000 feelings and no coherence #staranise original #gore tw #my problems with sj let me show you them #lil don't look

[butyouvealwaysbeenthecaretaker]

by “the left has created antagonisms that the right has then capitalised on”, I’m sort of thinking of earlier in the decade social justice that created very firmly the concept of trans/cis and black/white, and how inadvertantly in creating a separatist trans or black space/identity they were simultaneously creating a separatist cis/white identity,

and then of course it’s trivial for power to mobilise that faction that the left did the work of creating

I guess I don’t know how to articulate this without moving into the victim blaming, but given that power has always used marginalised identities as wedge issues, I do think the social justice that was around when I came out in 2010 was fatally flawed

(albeit, a lot of the things that it’s evolved into now - like BLM and a much louder trans voice - have also been very positive, and a lot more “matured” IMO than when the decade began, like a lot of the negativity I felt towards social justice as a project has diminished as I’ve seen it refine itself in ways that feel increasingly effective. So perhaps, as the story is ongoing, I should reserve judgement, because its possible that we’re partway through a process that ends in transformation)

#my problems with sj let me show you them

[mariposavuela]

You should be able to compare oppressions because that's how you build solidarity.

Do you think people of color became a term because everyone shares the same pain exact to the same minutia? No, of course not. We know anti-black racism is different from anti-asian racism, but they're all still wrong. We just chose to make the solidarity boat racism instead of xenophobia.

I was just watching Degrassi (I know, but I'm researching teen dramas for a thing I'm writing), and in the Pride episodes in Degrassi TNG, Spinner starts making fun of his friend Marco for being gay, and his friend Jimmy (the character famously played by Drake) asks him, "what next, you're going to make fun of me because I'm Black?"

Jimmy saw that he and Marco shared something - a shared discriminated position. And he used that connection to sympathize with Marco and stick up for him. And it's why Jimmy is the first person to realize Marco's missing and finds him when he gets gay-bashed later, and it's why he refuses to let Spinner's homophobia stand.

So why is it that all these are fine, but it's not okay for someone like Taylor Swift to compare experiencing sexism to homophobia? And taking it a step further, why can we never align different experiences of oppression with sexism? Why is sexism the one that constantly gets pushed aside for not being suitably intersectional, when every political category has its problems with the same issues? Disability rights often overlooks racism, anti-racism orgs often overlook misogyny, queer rights groups notoriously overlooked and still don't always know how to discuss transphobia within their ranks. We call these things out, but the amount of vitriol and mistrust of the feminist movement seems so far and beyond. It's frustrating because I've been in these groups and it always feels like they're allowed to be complicated and grow from their mistakes, but feminism must constantly apologize for itself at the detriment of making any real progress.

#my problems with sj let me show you them

[not-this-crude-matter]

Tom Clancy's The Discourse™️️

The Division is a clever metaphor for The Discourse. For the first thirty levels, you're all on the same side, fighting for the security and essential needs of the most vulnerable. Then you hit the PvP shitshow that is the Dark Zone, where your erstwhile comrades shoot you in the back for nebulously defined currency, trust is punished, and calls for help or backup are seen as signs of weakness to be exploited. Those who complain are ridiculed and told to stick to their safe spaces by the players who refuse to take responsibility for their role in fostering a toxic environment.

#The Division #Tom Clancy's The Division #the discourse #my problems with sj let me show you them

[toroid-earth]

This review is so... tedious. It literally says nothing. I have gathered that Kentucky Route Zero takes place in... (spoilers!) Kentucky, which if you didn’t know, is a place where historical atrocities were committed by white people. That has nothing to do with the game, expect for the fact that the game fails to sufficiently delve into said stories, presumably because it has some other purpose in mind. But a game set in modern Kentucky failing to tell the histories the reviewer thinks are most egregious is apparently its major failing. This is a criticism that can literally be leveled at anything. There is always room for more horrible. This is a keyword salad of mood affiliation; it speaks only to people who will feel “in the know” for recognising all the SJ esoterica.

I will close with a line that surely came out of woke-gpt2-bot:

and anyway, nothing i’ve written here is 1/100th as insightful, compelling, or necessary as the work by Black, indigenous, queer, decolonial writers and thinkers that you should be reading instead

I’ll say. They might at least have something of substance to say.

#my problems with sj let me show them to you #krz #kentucky route zero #social justice was great until the normies got here

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi! I was reading about inferior functions and now I'm confused about Si.

I believe I'm an introverted type, but reading about the lower functions, I can see myself a little in Si inferior.

I saw a post here about how ENXP are all the time checking things and I found incredible funny, because I do it all the time. For example, I'm on the bus and put my phone in the bag, the next second I start think "but what if I didn't put it?" and I need to check again, and again. <- low Si and 6.

When I'm bored (not exactly this word, because it's very easy to keep my mind occupied, I'm always reading, watching tv or learning about something I'm probably not going to use), I start to find problems. If my body feels a little pain, I think maybe I'm dying and I start to wonder where I could have picked up this "disease" that my brain invented. <- again, sp6 and low Si, doesn't have to be inferior, but it often is.

I can't adapt to routines, I try to be an organized person, but it seems impossible sometimes. The most I could follow with something was 15 days, but suffering a lot. I feel excited about starting projects, but have a hard time finishing. <- this could also be inferior Te

I'm not good at detailing things either, for example, I'm writing something, the story is passing in my head and I think I'm showing exactly what I'm thinking. Later, when I'm reading, I see that is practically a chat where there's only dialogue. The whole story was only in my head. Cooking is hard too, I have to follow the recipe, because I can't see if it's good. Too much salt? I don't know. Even when I know the recipe, always need to make sure there isn't something missing. <- general N-ness

I used to try to be "mature" and say that I didn't regret anything, because at least I learn. But was bullshit, honestly. I hate to know I suffered and wasted my time letting people being bossy with me. I don't feel comfortable saying "no" to people, so I usually just disappear when I don't want to do something. <- Fi/Te

If I argue with someone, it doesn't mean it's personal, maybe I just don't agree with something, doesn't mean I like you less (Fe-dom does this a lot, always taking it personally, and I hate). <- this could be Ne-dom, yes; IFPs usually mean it, and get emotionally involved in their arguments, and very well may dislike you more if you hold a worldview they find "abhorrent."

I'm also very dreamy, I don't understand how people can live the same way without wanting more. Born, grows, works and dies. It's scary? Yes, but do it anyway (I wasn't always like this, because it feels like my world is inside my head sometimes. I forget to live reality. Half my life I don't remember.) <- general NFP problem, but yes, this could include inferior Si

But I can't see myself as a Ne dominant, because looking at my life, I really thing I'm an introverted type. I identify with everything about introversion, I don't feel good in groups, in presentations and being the center of attention (although I like to be noticed, but not too much). <- me either, but my focus is constantly on the outer world in some way -- reading information, doing research, writing, chatting with people, reading what they say on forums, etc. It's about where your brain is the most comfortable, focusing outside yourself, or dwelling in your own head, without creating angst, not what you "do" or how much attention you like to give yourself (6s don't want to be the center of attention, and plenty of extroverts aren't "group" people)

I'm not good with improvisation, so usually I try to plan at least a little or I get anxious (type 6 here), even if at the end nothing come out as I expected. For example, if I have to go somewhere, I always go with gps because I will get lost anywhere. I suck at finding places. <- this is just 6 anxiety about failing, not getting it right, etc; the question is, IF something happens, CAN you improvise? Do you improvise at home when working on projects, writing papers for class, etc? If you aren't good at improvising for reals, it could be INFP. ENFPs have enough Te to go with their Ne to logically problem-solve as they go.

On the other hand, impulsivity annoys me, you know something has a chance to go bad and you do it anyway. Sabrina is like that, even Ambrose always warning her of things. Harry Potter too, I don't think Harry and Ron would have survived a day without Hermione. It's all clearly in front of them and they do shit. <- I feel the same. This is 6. Why would anyone be stupid and impulsive? Can't they think things through first? Consider the potential consequences?? Safety is important, being logical and aware and cautious MATTERS.

I also consider myself a nostalgic person. I try to fool myself a little bit about it, because I really feel connected to the things I liked my whole life, but not as much as I demonstrate. If I see the same thing many times, I start to get sick of it, unless I've forgotten the most part of. I talk a lot about the past when I'm going to advise someone or something, but on a day-to-day life I focus more on what I can do tomorrow or five years from now. <- again, general NF behavior.

Could an Si-tert or even dominant act like that?

INFP yes, SJ no. You're either ENFP or INFP.

#question #mbti #enfp #infp

[slashingdisneypasta]

Sylvester the Cat x Toon!Reader || Drabble

Plot: I'm just experimenting with the Looney Tune idea so possibly enjoy some cute Sylvester Jr wanting you to be his new other parent.

Warnings: Toon violence?

You're just tying up the ends of Wile E's bandages into a tight little knot, prompting a wince from the coyote and a little board sign saying 'Ouch!'. Immediately you wince, stepping back. "Ohh... sorry, Wile E... I'm not exactly certified... " Daffy made you do this job, seeing as you're worse at sports then any of them- and that's saying something.

His head falls forward slightly and his ears wilt as you step back.

"Okay! Who's nex- " Turning around - picking up some more bandages and band aids in one fist, and an industrial sized tube of Acme branded antiseptic cream tucked under your other arm, - you look about for your next patient.

- And droop as soon as you see what kind if work load is waiting for you. It looks like every toon you know is lined up for medical attention!

The bandages and band aids slip out of your hands and scatter across the floor. "Oh boy." Quickly taking a deep breath to refresh yourself, you perk right up in order to get to it. Okay! "Sly! You're first, what's wro- Uh, hah. Nevermind."

Looking at him... maybe you don't have to ask...

Tweety flies through the giant gaping hole in Sylvester's tummy and the cat gives great sigh, slumping forward. "Why are the only times he's in there are when he can get out!!"

"I know, I know, woe is you. Sit down." You have no time for sympathies right now, you can allocate Sly only 2 minutes- and that's because you like him. The other patients coming get only one. "Okay, Sly!... um... " Oh brother you're stuck. Why do you do with an ailment like this?? Sylvester patiently sits, waiting for you to finish as you set your paws on your hips with a huff... wondering where exactly to go from here. Hm. "Do you maybe... know where your insides... are? Like, presently?"

"Uhh, they were... disintegrated... "

You two share a concerned look. "Maybe... spackle?- "

Just as Sylvester is gulping down his fear at your crazy suggestion, a certain black and white kitten comes speeding out of the crowd at the two of you. "FATHER!" Sylvester Junior stops at his fathers side, eyes wide with worry. "Father! Is he okay, Y/N??"

As you start rifling through your medical kit for something actually useful, you waive a dismissive paw at the kitten. "Oh, don't worry SJ. Your dad has recovered from worse- you know that."

Oh- that gives you an idea! It may not be strictly medical... or orthodox in the least, but its worth a try! Come on- you guys are toons. Straightening up, you look to the court; Searching for the little yellow speck you know is flying around somewhere.

Sylvester Jr nods slowly, pouting. His eyes are big, and round, and adorably full of worry. "Do you think I can sit on his lap safely, Y/N?"

Oh he's just the cutest. You turn back to your patient and raise your brows at him. "Can he?"

Sly perks up at the chance to get some much needed affection - rather then shameful berating, - from his rugrat. "Of course he can- come on, son- oww... " Unfortunately Sylvester Junior throws caution to the wind, and launches his little body at his father- almost going all the way through and causing you to seriously wince, but luckily Sylvester has a good grip on him and sets him in his lap rather then inside the cavern that was his belly. "Aghhh... thanks, son... I feel a lot better now... oof!- "

Sylvester Junior has thrown his arms around his father, and your heart leaps at the adorable scene...

Except- you wouldn't have, if you had heard what was really going on in that hug.

Sylvester's eyes widen and he deadpans at his son, hearing the words that come out in a rushed, hoarse whisper as soon as the hug he thought was genuine closes around his neck. Of course... this is his son, after all...

"How am I doing, Father?? Is Y/N looking?? I've been told that other cats become more inclined to date a cat who's good with children!, and since you're hopeless at that, I've elected myself, your darling baby son, to help you! So, are they looking father??"

"Junior!"

"Yes father???"

"I do not need your help to woo anyone, and I'm working on Y/N... " Sly tries to assure Jr, not sounding totally sure as his eyes fall downcast. "Its, uh, just a slow process, is all... " After a moment, he proudly lifts his chin, and he would puff out his chest, if... you know.. it was there... "I got your mother on my own, didn't I??"

Sylvester's proud moment is cut off quickly as his son pulls away from him to give a very deadpanned, sassy expression at the mention of his absentee mother cat. "And where is she, may I ask, father??"

A loud 'Aha!' comes from you a few feet away as you jump up, and grab something right out of the air.

Deeply rolling his eyes, irritation flickering inside him at the antics of his son, Sylvester Sr plonks him down on the bench beside him, angrily crossing his arms. Jr follows suit, looking like an exact replica of his father... except, smaller.

Blinking blankly around to see the two, with Tweety now wriggling around in your paws, you giggle at the sight. "What happened to you two? You were having such a heart warming father-son moment a second ago!"

"I'm full of shame, Y/N. Oh woe... "Sylvester Jr sighs, shaking his head as Sr turns his head slowly to look at him. "How am I to face my friends at the playground... My father- a loser!"

Sylvester pointedly looks away, angry eyes pointing towards the court. "My son... a spoiled brat. How am I ever to show my face in society, again?" An even heavier sigh comes out of Sylvester Jr at that remark, and Sylvester Sr immediately jumps up from the bench, pointing a stern finger at his son. "Oh no ya don't- Don't you dare get out that bag!!"

"But Father! I'm full of shame!" Sylvester Jr whines, holding the paper bag in his lap as you watch the two in wonderment. How they can bicker like this, and still have such an adorable, open relationship you have no clue - some kids are too scared to talk back to their fathers, - but the state of these two's relationship is truly, really endearing to you.

Oh how you love Sly... You catch yourself swooning at the thought of him, and immediately stop yourself. Stop it, Y/N! This is not the time for that. Taking a deep breath, you shake yourself. Okay, back to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, Sylvester snatches the paper bag away from Jr. "Oh, cut that out, wouldja?!"

While there's a pause in the argument, you jump and take your chance to hold up Tweety in front of Sylvester's face- his pupils shrinking at the sight and his teeth growing sharper, somehow.

"Oh no oh no- You mean old puddy tads- using me like this!" Tweety exclaims, wings pressed firmly to your paws and pushing, struggling to wiggle up and out of your tight grip. Yeah yeah, you think. Tell it to the choir.

Hopefully when I let Tweety go, Sly will give chase... and be all better!

Heh... isn't that how it works? It is, right? He'll 'perk right up'! you could say.

"Alright... here goes nothing!" You squeak, closing your eyes and letting Tweety go, hoping to god that Sylvester doesn't trample you in his endeavour to snatch his favourite little yellow bird.

Feeling a wind blow against you side and ruffling your fur as Sylvester springs to action, you slowly crack your eyes open again- first seeing Sylvester Jr as he still sits on the bench in front of you swinging his legs over the side of the bench, before peaking over your shoulder, and... "Yes!" You cry out as soon as your keen feline eyes catch sight of Sylvester looking good as new again on the court, chasing Tweety through the still-roaring basketball game. Clasping your hands together, your tail wiggles excitedly behind your back. "It worked!"

"What?" Sylvester hears your cheering and immediately halts in his tracks, looking at you then down at himself- a big, toothy smile spreading across his face when he see's he's all better. "Y/N! You did it! Thanks!"

"Of course!" You call back, then point at the scoreboard and wink. "Now kick those Monstar's butts for me!"

The green Monstar turns a squinty looking evil eye on you at hearing your words but you don't care- you're far too busy burning the image of Sly giving you a thumbs up into your mind.

"Heheh, no problem... " That trademark evil grin slips across Sly's face again as he rubs his paws together, turning his attention back to the game as you sigh, paws on your hips; Happy with your job well done.

"Uh, hello??" Someone speaks up from behind you, and you jump, suddenly remembering the mile long line of toons that still need medical attention.

Ohhh... great. You slowly turn around, seeing Elmer giving you angry eyes and quickly look extremely apologetic, paws awkwardly behind your back and spine as straight as a plank. Oops!

You might seem help... you think you tilting your head to see the rest of the long... long, l o n g line. "Uhh... SJ? You wanna help me play nurse, maybe?"

"Oh, yes Y/N!" He exclaims enthusiastically, hopping off the bench and taking up your medical kit in his short little arms- which is way too big for him. You giggle and take it from the kitten, patting his head. "I'll be happy to be your assistant!"

Fist bumping each other, you wink. "That's the kinda attitude I like to see! Lets go."

~

A couple hours and countless injuries later and the game is coming to a nail chewing close. Truly, this is a new level of anxiety you're feeling as you leave Sylvester Junior, now exhausted and up past his bedtime, curled in Granny's lap with a blanket strewn over him. Then you sit back down to watch the game beside a very injured Sly, as Witch Hazel defibrillates Taz.

If Michael doesn't make this shot - with but seven seconds to go, - he has to move to Moron Mountain in your place. You all dragged him here for help and now h's the one with everything on the line.

You cant help but feel a massive load of guilt.

"Oh I cant watch!" You squeak suddenly amongst the thunderous sounds of the audience at 4 seconds, and cover your eyes. "Tell me when its over!"

.

.

.

3 seconds later, the buzzer screeches and you hear the toons around you cheering, and peak out nervously from beyond your paws. ... What happened?

Your gaze flickers to the score board.

Oh my god. A deep, relieved breath comes out of you. "We won!?"

"We won!" Sylvester concurs, jumping up from the bench and throwing a fist into the air. Then he puts his paws on your arms and beams down at you. "We're not gonna be slaves!!"

You wonder what you could say in response, but the one thing your body is telling to you to do is throw your arms around him- so you do. And he doesn't think twice before squeezing you back, picking you up and swinging you around.

Then the world comes crashing down around Sly, as his son opens his eyes to see the scene- and gasps. The kitten sits up quickly in Granny's lap and points. "Oh, father! You did it! I knew you could do it!"

Immediately Sylvester puts you down, his paws retreating from you and a definite sense of nervousness - and maybe embarrassment? - settles over him. You raise your brows, confused, but still swimming in the joy of the game being won and just tilt your head as you confusedly smile. "What did he do??"

Sly Jr doesn't even think a second before gleefully elaborating- despite his father very nearly shaking his soul free waving his hands at him in a doomed endeavour to shut his son up. "No- stop, Junior!- "

"Asked you out! Didn't he?" As the wide eyed bewilderment on your face and the utter horror on Sylvester's dawns on Jr, his shoulders drop and he turns disappointedly at his dad. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh, father!- "

Sylvester Sr's tail, shoulders, and head slump forward as he turns his kitten around so he faces away from the two of you, embarrassment replaced by exasperation. "You're tired, son. Go to sleep. Night night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite and we'll talk in the morning." Then he slowly, meekly turns back to you.

And you're practically glowing. "Sly... what's he talking about?"

"Father likes you!- " Sylvester Jr tries to speak up again, turning his head but Sr twists his head carefully back, a reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Sleep! Hah hah... " Sylvester (Sr) turns back to you, arms held carefully behind his back as he chuckles nervously. "My son is... troubled... a little- "He point at his head and swirls his finger; A gesture reading 'Loopy'. As soon as the meaning behind that word and his gesture occurs to you, you visibly droop. Oh. Okay... I guess SJ was just messing with us... Sly watches this reaction, and his ears perk up quickly; Sensing some dissappintment. "I mean, uh... unless you liked the i-idea?"

You peak up at him again from the floor, seeing his face slowly going red. "... D-do you?"

"Wha- I asked first! You answer the question."

"Hey." Setting your fists to your hips, you look stubbornly at him. "You were just taking it all back! So you tell the truth. Which is it??"

"Yeah- but I asked the question first!"

"Sylvester James Pussycat Senior!"

"Pfft... if you think pulling full name on me is going to change anything... " He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "You've got another thing comin'!"

Your eyes narrow, and so do his, before suddenly Taz jumps up from the bench he was resting on and ZOOMS past Sly so fast and so hazardously, that he's caught off guard and jumps forward with a yelp- accidentally knocking you.

"Oh!-"

"H-hold on, I got ya!!" Sylvester's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he grabs you just before gravity manages to drag you down to the ground; Pulling you back up to your feet- which just so happens to bring you two extremely close together.

Two sets of eyes widen and faces go red.

Everything seems to go a little quieter around you, the deafening sounds of the auditorium seeming to get plunged under water as the crazy all just slows down for just a moment. Enough for you to enjoy the few seconds you foreseeably get before he jumps back like someone sprayed him.

But to your surprise, he doesn't move. Just stands there and looks shocked... but does not move even an inch away from you. Doesn't even let go of you.

Finally, after a few good moments, you sigh and give in. "... Sly, would you like to go out sometime with me?"

"Ah... " His ears flatten against his head as he looks bashful, with a cute little smile that makes your stomach do backflips as he curls his tail around yours. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

You lean up and give him a feather light kiss on the cheeks- and he goes even redder.

#(faintly you two can hear a loud 'YES FATHER!!' from sj XDD ) #Looney Tunes #The Looney Tunes #Sylvester x Reader #Sylvester the Cat x Reader #Drabble #Sylvester The Cat x Reader Drabble #Space Jam

[frevandrest]

Everything Wrong with Saint-Just's Introductory Scene in La Révolution française (1989)

As promised, here is an analysis of Saint-Just’s first scene from La Révolution française (1989). You can watch the scene (with English subtitles) here. It sadly misses the dramatic entrance part, but everything else is there. SPOILER: This analysis will not, in fact, cover everything wrong because there’s so much trash you can’t adequately address it in only 1000 words. 

In the scene, we see a young man with that hair rushing down the steps of the Convention (in what will be his signature dramatic! style). He pushes people way without even looking at them. There is someone at the rostrum, and many people wait to address the Convention. Saint-Just doesn’t give a fuck. “I demand to speak.” Some deputies murmur a weak protest, but they are shit out of luck because it’s time to introduce a new character, and we need to know what a jerk he is. So of course he’s granted the word. 

At first, nobody pays attention, but “just like you, I would die for this Republic”, seems to work. He delivers the speech (which contains maybe two lines from the actual one), and by the end, Marat claps, the Convention claps, Danton and Girondins are suspicious; Robespierre is in love. Camille, oh Camille, does he know he’s just been replaced? Saint-Just pouts slightly (my interpretation) but doesn’t show much emotion. Next scene: Louis receives news that he’s being put on trial. Good job, new boy. 

As first scenes go, this is a good introduction to Saint-Just as depicted in the film. But it’s also very wrong for SJ as a historical personality (what we know of him). Which sucks, because it’s not like it’s impossible to make an unsympathetic yet historically accurate SJ, if one wants to go that route. See, Saint-Just in La Révolution française is a prop; he’s not a character with his own complexities, goals or motivations. He is just there to be pretty and evil, and to take Robespierre away from Camille.

So, why is this introduction wrong? 

Let us remember that this was Saint-Just’s very first speech at the Convention. He got elected days after his 25th birthday; he was the youngest out there. Also, even with Robespierre’s support (that some claim he already enjoyed), he was an unknown; a peasant provincial from Picardie barely out of his adolescence. He wanted to prove himself and demonstrate that he was a worthy representative. Being rude and pushing people away is not really a good way to achieve that. 

Here’s the thing about Saint-Just: despite all stereotypes of the contrary, he respected authority. However, he only respected authority that he felt deserved to be respected. In 1792, “monarchy” was not it. But National Convention? Revolutionary government? Of course he respected it. He fought so much to get there, and he respected the place he was given. 

Throwing his weight around, pushing people away, demanding to speak when someone else is at the rostrum, disobeying order... It was really not Saint-Just. He hated commotion and fights that happened so often at the Jacobin club. Even on 9 Thermidor, when Tallien interrupted him and shit hit the fan, he continued to attempt to deliver the speech. They pushed him, and he kept trying to speak, without, I don’t know, punching someone in the face (La Révolution française Saint-Just totally would, which is, admittedly, one of the many, many many reasons why it sucks that they shortened and condensed Thermidor). 

The film uses “blame Saint-Just for Robespierre’s turn to darkness” approach. SJ is there to encourage Robespierre into cruelty and cold violence, and, if Robespierre starts to doubt even for a moment, to reassure him that yes, this is how things should be done, you are right Max, let’s kill them all, but particularly Camille; I can’t stand that guy for having you first  ridiculing my poetry (wait... SJ’s poetry wasn’t in the film. Why does he hate Camille, again?) Who knows. The only explanation the film provides is that Camille is Good and Saint-Just is Evil, so of course he’d want to get rid of him. 

Now, let us see about the speech itself.

The Speech

The speech Saint-Just delivers in the film contains maybe a few lines from the actual speech (notably: “this man should reign, or die”). I don’t have a problem with them not replicating the speech word for word because it followed on what other deputies talked about (which we didn’t hear)*, and because nobody has time for Antoine’s ramblings about antiquity. (And it would take around 10 minutes to act, which would probably provide us with more glorious shots of Robespierre falling in love being impressed, but it would take too much of the running time. I get that.)

So, in theory, I am fine with shortening the speech and paraphrasing, as long as the meaning and content is there. Which... it did on a surface level while also missing the point substantially.  

*Not showing SJ addressing what others said before him was understandable (condensing runtime), but it’s another thing that made it seem like he didn’t listen nor paid attention what others were doing. Also, it’s a missed opportunity to characterize him as a jerk full of himself, since his real speech basically opened with: “all that the previous guy said is bullshit, and here’s why”. 

Speech in the film: I would die for the Republic and I would fight the enemies of the Republic. We all know the name of the enemy, and I, like none here, am ready to fight against this enemy. Louis is a symbol of traitors among us. We should not hesitate; the king is an usurper. 

In short, speech in the film is, kind of, less about Louis and more about what SJ will be important later: his own sense of revolutionary righteousness and for weeding out “traitors” from the Convention. 

Another issue with the speech is that it wasn’t just about the speech - it was part of Saint-Just’s introductory scene, so we had to learn about his character through the speech. In the film, SJ is rude, cruel and cares only about... well, we are not sure, because there are no motivations whatsoever, but he is there to push Max when something bad needs to be done. I feel that his rudeness during the introductory scene and the way the speech was delivered fulfil this purpose nicely. However, I am not sure that we actually understand what Saint-Just’s speech was about, except vague “we must kill the king” vibe. 

The Aftermath

The scene following Saint-Just’s speech is that of Louis, a doting father, reading a book to his son. Men come and rudely tell him to send the child away. He is to be put on trial. The implication? Saint-Just’s speech won the crowd over and they decided to kill Louis, or at least put him on trial. 

In reality, while Saint-Just’s speech was highly noticed (his real-life dramatic entrance into Convention), the deputies did NOT listen to him. The whole point of the speech was that Louis should not be put on trial - trials are for the citizens, which he is not. Louis’ crime is not treason - the monarchy is a crime in itself. Saint-Just argued against the trial. Yes, his speech was highly influential but presenting it in this way puts way too much weight on this newcomer’s words and implies he was the key factor behind the trial.  

Other Observations

- There is a long debate among historians whether Robespierre was present for Saint-Just’s first speech on 13 November 1792. (I think the conclusion is “probably not”.) But I don’t mind this change, if nothing else, for those glorious shots of Robespierre’s heart eyes and Camille’s “wtf did this guy come from and why is Max looking at him like that?”

- Marat. It is true that he generally praised Saint-Just as an orator, but he disagreed with this speech (Marat was for trial). 

- The reason why this post is dedicated to SJ’s first scene is because I was asked/challenged to write about it. It doesn’t mean that his other scenes were any better (I’d say they were worse). In fact, the entire SJ’s character was a Thermidorized mess. 

- That being said, I don’t hate this SJ. I cannot; LRF was my introduction to the whole Frev thing and will always have a special place. Christopher Thompson was ok, particularly in some aspects of SJ. However, the whole thing was a mess and it should be criticized. 

- Hair. I promised to dedicate one full paragraph to SJ’s hair, but I... can’t. I simply cannot. I am sorry. I tried, but the words failed me. 

- This was more fun that it should have been and there are so many things I didn’t get to say (the entire performance and what this scene means for SJ as a character in the film, a more detailed analysis of the speech and comparison with the real one, etc.) But it did show that I can still vomit write 1000+ words about anything that I have any interest in, which is... good to know, I guess? (Let’s just say that I won’t be winning any SJ contest prizes for laconicism). 

#la revolution francaise #saint-just #french revolution #frev #saint just #movies

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 2: The Black Book (1949)

1. Introduction

Welp, here it is, Citizens.

Welcome to the second meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Please, enjoy some snacks and drinks and get comfortable because we’re in for a pretty wild ride.

The review of “The Black Book” is finally here. Initially released under the title “Reign of Terror” in 1949, it acquired its second (and more famous in our community) title during its rereleases, as far as my research could tell me.

Now, before we proceed, allow me to give you some background info on the way I found this movie.

I have seen @frevandrest ‘s posts referring to it. A few other people too, but I simply don’t remember the usernames. Still, I immediately got the impression that it’s a rather infamous movie in our community so I decided to review it simply out of morbid curiosity, just to see what the fuss was about.

I found the entire thing on YouTube so it’s available for anyone curious or masochistic enough to check it out.

Let’s just say that I dropped the movie several times and the reasons for this awful impression are going to be listed below.

2. The Story

The story reeks of propaganda, which is to be expected.

Basically, The Evil Misogynistic Gay Pigeon Boi Not Yet Dictator ™️ Robespierre wants to become, well, the dictator of France.

Problem is, apparently only Barras can appoint him as the dictator and that guy is in hiding, refusing to comply. And to make things worse, the titular book, Robespierre’s personal death list of sorts, has vanished.

Robespierre believes that he cannot control the Convention without the book and summons Duval, the butcher prosecutor from Strasbourg, to locate the death list in 24 hours. Unbeknownst to him, Duval gets replaced by one Charles D’Aubigny, who is eager to stop Robespierre...

Yes, Citizens, they attempted to make a thriller/detective story of sorts, which isn’t a bad idea. If my prompts are any indication, there’s a lot of genres that fit the setting of the French Revolution. In fact, I would love to read a good detective story set in this era.

The keyword here is ‘good’ though, and, unfortunately, this movie simply didn’t cut it for me as a detective story.

(Spoilers ahead!)

In all honesty, it’s actually quite predictable in its execution. Personally, I predicted rather quickly that the book wasn’t actually stolen and it was a distraction move.

The complete lack of logic in the actions of this Robespierre and the ridiculous levels of seriousness also were really painful to watch and kept breaking any potential immersion on my part.

For instance, Robespierre’s method of controlling the Convention is not telling who is and who is not on the list.

Now, in Real Life ™️, this hardly stopped the Thermidorians but apparently that’s not the case in the movie! Nobody even tries to speak up against him or, you know, quietly assassinate him to prevent him from getting all the power, which is hardly realistic if you ask me.

I also feel like this plot line of Charles and Madelon (the female lead) being these bitter exes is boring and really done to death. It’s actually one of my least favorite tropes and I would rather prefer them to simply have a professional relationship (because yes, men and women can have platonic relationships), like old acquaintances who went on a spying mission that one time or something similar.

This romantic subplot was really shoehorned into the story in my opinion and I do believe that it would’ve been more tolerable with only the main plot left in the final script, but oh well.

3. The Characters

Once again, boring is the best adjective I can come up with. Fouché felt less out of character than the others though, which is not a good sign.

Madelon is the femme fatale mixed with damsel in distress and Charles is the stereotypical single detective character. That’s about it. They’re both just walking clichés.

Anyway, since the OCs are kind of archetypical and blander than oatmeal without milk, let’s discuss the historical figures.

Robespierre is once again stereotypical, but I find it funny that his HQ are connected to a bakery and his scene with pigeons near the beginning is surprisingly accurate in the sense of the “he likes pigeons” tidbit. I don’t know if the creators did any research on this but it’s a nice detail nonetheless.

And now let’s talk about Saint-Just in this mess. He is ridiculously and cartoonishly evil, kicks kittens to prove it, giggles and grins like me when I write something funny in my chapters and is incredibly dumb. Also, he sounds and acts like he belongs in a Western, not in this kind of movie.

Fouché is...well, Fouché, believe it or not. Opportunistic, cruel, a backstabber and he turns on Robespierre so he is not as out of character as the others. He also makes a face similar to an owl or that “You don’t say” meme. His almost friendly banter with Charles is pretty entertaining though, I’ll give him that.

4. The Setting

The authors didn’t do their homework here properly. I’m not an expert but most outfits don’t fit that epoch and a lot of names are butchered when they’re pronounced. Danton and Marie-Antoinette in particular suffer from that, but so does SJ.

I know that the Internet was not a thing yet but it baffles me that apparently the creators couldn’t bother to consult native French speakers? Dig up information about the time period in archives? Look at portraits? Read books? You know, the usual parts of ❇️ research ❇️. Apparently, they couldn’t and it really shows.

The backgrounds are better in this department, but nothing particularly impressive here either.

5. The Acting

A+ for effort I guess. Look, guys, people trash actors a lot but I think that here they tried their best with what they had so props for that. The over-the-top acting and the extensive seriousness even made this boredom fest kind of funny to watch at times so I’m going to give it credit where credit is due.

6. The Conclusion

All in all, a pretty bad and boring movie filled with propaganda, clichés, flat characters but also occasional unintentionally funny and cartoonish moments sprinkled in.

If you’re into bad movies, I won’t stop you from watching it but I highly recommend you to do something else with your free time if you’re looking for an actually good movie.

This concludes today’s meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Stay tuned for updates, Citizens, and stay safe!

Love,

- Citizen Green Pixel

#french revolution #frev media #frev #maximilien robespierre #louis antoine de saint just #I still refuse to make a fouche tag #napoleon #history #movies #Jacobin Fiction Convention #review

[megalony]

Like Father, Like Son- Part 6

I know it takes me a while to update but I am happy to post this part of my Henry Cavill series which has gotten so many comments and lovely feedback so thank you all. I hope you like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn

Series masterlist: @lharrietg @viking-raider @coldmuffinpartycloud @kikisparadise18 @everydaymultifandom @deangal-101 @thevelvetseries @alexa-fangirl-forever @its-me-meg @misshale21 @fanfictionaddiction99 @moonlacebeam @rebelliouscat @inanna999 @mylittlecrazyworldofinterest @joviejuliette @mandybug39 @geekwritersworld @melisssaa @angelcavill66 @lostinlifexx @greensleeves888 @comboboo @leyannrae @myartistrash02 @yourdaydreamerfan @pretty-pillow-princess @bicyhot1 @springholland @kingliam2019 @michelehansel @tomhiddlestonlove15 @sarahjoestewy-blog @1007grace @art-estrange @little-brattyangel @rhilee91​ @cassiaodinsdottir​

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A sliver of fear started to creep up from the base of (Y/n)'s spine as her eyes diverted around her to see who was about. She knew it was highly unlikely that there would be anyone here in this shop that she actually knew but she couldn't help but look around anyway. It was more likely that all of these people here knew her considering she was married to one of Hollywood's up and coming actors.

She didn't know if it would be worse or not to have someone around that knew her. If they saw the panic in her eyes and noticed the struggle she was feeling then that would either be embarrassing or cause problems later.

She was out with all five of her kids and it was clear that there was something unsettling her. But as long as no one realised that it was her eldest that was panicking her then everything would be fine.

"Ive got a headache!" Charlie started to rub at his eyes until he was practically scratching all the skin around them but the way his lips tightened and the small muscles around his jaw popped out made (Y/n) shiver.

All she wanted to do was cry.

How could her own son frighten her like this? He was her first baby, he was her little boy, he had always had an attachment to her. He wanted her to sit with him when he felt ill, he made her pictures and crafts and wanted her to see him when he was winning sports days at school. He wanted to show her all his achievements and make her proud of him.

But at the same time he seemed to only want to take his frustrations out on her. When something went wrong he would shout at (Y/n), he wanted her to fix it but if she couldn't then she would be subjected to his rage.

"It's because of your medicine baby, come on we're going home now anyway."

(Y/n) needed to get all of them home, Peter had kicked off a storm already because his eyes were still hurting even though he'd finished his prescribed drops now. Charlie was running round with a face like a zombie and every little reflex or move he made had (Y/n) jumping back in fright.

She had begged Henry on the phone to come home, she didn't want to be left alone with Charlie, let alone with all the kids with her. What if something happened? She couldn't risk all their kids being scarred and frightened another time around. Nor could she cope with Charlie on her own anymore and that hurt her to admit to Henry but if she told anyone else they would tell and she couldn't have that.

Social services would make things worse, she knew that she knew how they worked and what they did to try to help which hardly ever worked.

"Well I'm not taking them anymore then."

Rolling her eyes, (Y/n) looked at her other four children, checking they were all okay as their little group started walking towards the exit of the shop.

She hadn't wanted to bring all the kids shopping but they needed food, toilet roll and other essentials and it was easier to go today other than tomorrow. (Y/n) had Briar and Angel sitting in the seats in the trolley with them both almost falling asleep. And Charlie, Harvey and Peter were walking beside her.

"Yes you will now come on we're going home."

Reaching her hand out, (Y/n) placed her palm on Charlie's shoulder to make sure he wouldn't stop and have a tantrum right in the middle of the shop. When he had done that before it was usually when she was on her own with him and that was easier because (Y/n) didn't have to worry about the rest of the kids being frightened or acting up too. Right now she couldn't take it.

"I don't want to I feel shit-"

"Then stay here." (Y/n) spoke quietly but the narrowed eyes, the tightly pressed lips and the way she pulled away from Charlie so quickly showed she wasn't messing around.

The moment (Y/n) pushed the trolley with Harvey and Peter following at her sides Charlie hurried to catch them up. As much as he would have sat down and thrown a tantrum he didn't want to be left if (Y/n) really was going to walk away.

"Hold onto the trolley boys." Both Harvey and Peter grabbed the trolley with one hand and (Y/n) kept her eyes on Charlie as they all headed out the shop and crossed the road, making their way over to the dark navy blue car that belonged to (Y/n). "Right, pack the car up for me please."

Reaching out, (Y/n) gently scooped Briar up out of the trolley seat, smiling as she felt a flutter in her chest with her baby in her arms. She loved the way he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and he was at a stage where everything was funny so his giggle lit up her soul when she felt down. Seeing Henry with their kids always made (Y/n) smile and it made her happy to think about the baby she was carrying.

(Y/n) turned her head to check the boys were helping pack up the boot before she opened the door and gently settled Briar into his car seat. She knew that the drive home would settle him right off to sleep and would probably do the same to Angel since she was tired.

"Charlie, can you help pack the car please?" (Y/n) pointed out to the trolley that only Harvey and Peter were unloading as the eldest boy leaned against the side of the car. His eyes looking down at the road beneath his feet with his brows rose and a blank expression on his face.

With a sigh, (Y/n) scooped up Angel and settled her on her hip before she motioned for Harvey to come over to her.

"Pete, get buckled in the car baby, you've done enough. Harvey, you can get in the front with me."

She watched her boys nod and hurry to get in the car, Peter scurrying to climb behind Briar's seat so he was in the far back of the car in front of the boot. There were three rows of seats in the car with two seats in each row, two in the front for the driver and passenger, two in the middle where Briar and Angel's car seats were, and then two right in the back.

(Y/n) rose her brow when she caught Charlie's eye, seeing his face fall into annoyance and shock since he was normally always sat in the front with her. But (Y/n) didn't want him in the front, she wanted him right at the back of the car so he couldn't hit any of the controls, the steering wheel or the gear stick in the front if he had a tantrum. Nor did she want him near her in case he decided to hit her whilst she was driving.

"Pack the boot."

"No."

"Pack the boot now or when we get home you can start tidying the house instead so pick one." (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips as her head cocked to the side, waiting for a response even though she was past the point of caring now.

"No. I don't wanna go home, I wanna be out when's dad coming home?"

"Charlie you've got a headache and you're tired so pack the boot then you can go rest in bed when we get home."

"I don't want to rest or be tired I want to go out and play or go out with dad." Charlie stomped his foot down on the floor but his expression gave away how he really felt.

His eyes were half lidded because he had a headache and he was tired and his shoulders were slumping even though he was trying to buck himself up and wake up and feel as energetic as he usually did. The doctor had started him on some medication to calm down his temper and control his mood swings and had referred them for some assessments in case he had ADHD or autism or something of the kind.

The tablets were calming him down so he was less abrasive than usual but they were making him tired which was a side effect that wouldn't last much longer. But he didn't like it, they made him restless and wake during the night and they made him tired during the day which he wasn't used to. Being told the effects would wear off the longer he was on the tablets didn't seem to make any difference to Charlie because he didn't like waiting.

"Then pack the car and when he gets back I'll tell him to take you somewhere with the boys-"

"No! Just me and dad, it's not fair I don't like it!"

Spinning round on his heels with the little energy he had, Charlie kicked his foot out and banged his shoe into the bottom of the car near the wheel. Then he flung his hand round and hit his fist into the break light of the car. If he had more strength in him he would have easily broken the light and (Y/n) was thankful he was tired but he was still going to hurt himself doing this.

"Charlie just get in the car. Please." (Y/n)'s eyes cast around her, noticing just one or two people looking but it wasn't strange to see kids having behaviours at shops, especially like this when they were playing up. As long as no one came over to them then it would be alright.

Reaching over, (Y/n) grabbed his wrist to stop him from hurting himself again but she wasn't expecting him to suddenly reach out and grab her own wrist with his other hand. A gasp escaped her lips when Charlie's nails scratched into her skin and dragged down from her wrist to her arm as he ripped her hand roughly from him before he threw her arm back at her.

"Get in the car baby."

(Y/n) could feel tears welling in her eyes as she tried again to grab Charlie's wrists. She turned him so his back was to her chest and stomach before she pushed him quickly to try and get him to the door of the car so she could shove him in.

"No! Get off. Bitch. Fuck off. Shit. Off me now!" The string of words leaving his lips was so strange. It was like Charlie didn't know what he was saying, he was spluttering random words that were coming to his mind without thinking about it. But the more he repeated them, the more he flung his arms out and scraped his heels against the floor to fight against her.

This was a different kind of meltdown than Charlie usually had.

"In! In now!" It was so tempting to swear at Charlie right now but (Y/n) knew that wouldn't solve anything. It would only make her feel worse and want to slap him for the way he was acting when she knew that wouldn't be right either.

(Y/n) felt like she couldn't breathe as she gave Charlie a shove, pushing him past Angel's chair and into the back of the car where Peter was strapped in, curling up to be as close to the window as he could so he was out the firing line. (Y/n) struggled to squeeze into the back with her stomach, the pain in her chest fromhaving the fluids drained and the burning in her leg from her scar, but she just about managed it.

She was glad the back windows were tinted so no nosey onlookers could see her practically throw Charlie down into the seat before she bent down and fought with him to strap him into the seat.

"No! Fuck you, get off me!"

Charlie slapped (Y/n)'s hands and tried to scratch her but she was too quick this time, dodging his hands and throwing them back at him when he tried. But she wasn't quick enough and couldn't stop him from slapping her cheek causing her head to snap in Peter's direction.

Both her and Charlie suddenly stopped, their eyes deadlocked as they both reeled at what he had just done.

When (Y/n) raised her hand, Charlie thought he was going to get the same action back at him but his body jumped in the seat when (Y/n) curled her hand into a fist and rammed her fist into the ceiling of the car instead. She repeated the action twice to let the anger boil out of her system before she turned and forcefully pushed her way out of the backseat so she could manoeuvre into the driver's seat instead.

She wanted to hit him!

(Y/n) had never wanted to hit any of her kids before. Sure, Henry had given them the odd hit before on the bum or a clip around the head but that was hardly very often at all. (Y/n) had never wanted to properly hit any of them until now. Even when Charlie stabbed her, all she had wanted to do was hug Henry and have Charlie isolated from the rest of them.

This wasn't right. Why was Charlie being like this? Why was he frightening (Y/n) to the point that when she was alone with him, she wished there were locks on every door in the house so she could lock herself away or lock him in one room and keep him there so they were all safe?

Each child sitting in their seats felt afraid when (Y/n) let out a scream, muffled by how tightly she had her lips pressed together. She didn't want to scare them but she couldn't contain or control herself.

Harvey jumped in his seat when (Y/n)'s phone started to ring in her pocket but his face fell when (Y/n) checked it before handing it to him.

"I-it's your dad, you talk to him."

(Y/n) couldn't talk to Henry, her body and voice were trembling as it was and if she did she would breakdown and wouldn't be able to drive them home and get them all safe and away from the public eye like this.

Her hands were shaking as she pulled out of the parking space, trying to feel as calm as possible so she didn't speed or lose focus as she had all the kids in the car and had to control herself as best as she could to keep all of them safe when she drove.

"Daddy... mummy's driving..." Harvey didn't know what he was supposed to say. Did he tell his dad that Charlie had gone for their mum again and they'd had a fight? Did he stay quiet and wait for (Y/n) to tell him when he got home?

"Buddy, is everything okay? You sound upset, talk to me it's okay."

"Charlie argued with mummy."

"Okay... can you tell me what happened please. I'm guessing you're all in the car with mummy right now."

"He slapped her and mummy's upset." Harvey quickly looked over at (Y/n), wondering if he'd said too much but when she tried to force a smile he knew he hadn't done anything wrong. And since he was whispering down the phone Charlie couldn't kick up a storm because he hadn't heard what was being said.

"I'll be home in a few hours, if anything else happens you or mummy call me, okay? I love you all buddy."

Harvey wasn't stupid, he could hear how Henry's tone of voice changed in an instant and he knew Henry's gruff, tempered voice that happened when his shoulders rose and his chest puffed out like he was about to have a fight.

Something told Harvey a fight would soon happen when his dad came home later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Charlie I don't know how else to tell you or how many times I have to keep telling you that you can't act like this. What else do you want me to do?"

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) bowed her head and covered her face with her hands as she rested her elbows on her knees. What else was she supposed to say to get it through to Charlie that this attitude and this behaviour was going to get him into a lot of trouble in the future. He couldn't keep doing this and thinking that if he did it then things would go his way and that life would work around his behaviours because it wouldn't.

Nor could (Y/n) keep going when this was all she was getting day in and day out. She didn't want to be alone with her own son anymore, she was too afraid of what he was going to do and if he was going to hurt her or her other babies.

Rubbing at her eyes, (Y/n) slowly looked up through her hands as she took a deep breath, waiting for Charlie's response but he wasn't giving her an answer. He was slouched o the blue foam sofa with his arms curled around his chest and his chin tucked down into his chest.

A bolt of worry shot through (Y/n) when Charlie slammed his hand down on the arm of the sofa before he went to get up causing (Y/n) to lean back in her seat.

But the moment he was just about on his feet, he suddenly felt a hand clamping down on his shoulder forcing him back down to the sofa. His body collided down with the soft foam sofa that was designed to be both comfy and easy for Charlie to jump and hit against if he had a meltdown.

He tipped his head back against the back of the sofa and looked up to find Henry towering over him like the angel of death waiting to claim his soul. He could feel a shiver running through him as he looked up at his dad who looked almost like a stranger to him. No matter what Charlie said or did he could never fool himself into believing that he wasn't afraid or worried of his dad. Henry was the one person Charlie always aspired to be, he was someone that Charlie looked up to but he was also someone that could frighten him by doing very little.

"I don't know what to do with you anymore." The bitter tone to Henry's words set both Charlie and (Y/n) on edge as the pair of them watched Henry with eagle eyes. Concentrating as he walked around the back of the sofa and took a seat on the armchair next to where (Y/n) was sitting.

"What?"

"I'm running out of options Charlie, that's what! I don't know what you expect us to do when everything we tell you to do you go and do the exact opposite."

"No I don't-"

"I took you to the gym and boxing with me to try and let off some steam and you decide to come home and use it on your mum. I tell you not to lay a hand on her and you stab her with a kitchen knife! And if that wasn't bad enough, you're going around slapping her in public! No fucking son of mine will go and abuse his mum like that and get away with it so tell me what the fuck I should do to teach you some respect!"

Charlie was taken aback, sinking himself further into the sofa as if he hoped it would swallow him up so he wouldn't have to deal with this conversation or argument anymore.

(Y/n) leaned over to try and take Henry's hand but he was too far gone to interact with any of her soft touches that were trying to calm him down. He didn't want to calm down, he wanted to be riled up, he wanted to shout and scream at Charlie so he understood where Henry was coming from.

They had sent him to the gym, they were taking him to councilling, he was on medication, he had strict routines and activities to try and calm him down but it wasn't working. All Charlie wanted to do was act out and hurt (Y/n) and he thought that he could get away with it when he couldn't. This couldn't carry on because Henry was tearing his hair out worrying that one day he would come home to find (Y/n) battered and bruised with Charlie stood looming over her.

"She is your mum. She's loved you and looked after you all your life and all you can do is abuse her but I'm not doing this anymore. I am not having your mum or your brothers or Angel ring me up crying because you've hurt one of them."

"I don't mean to."

Those few little words were enough to boil over the anger that was building up inside of Henry until his eyes were blazing with fire and he bolted up to his feet. All he could see was red, covering every aspect of his vision and when he looked at his eldest son, all he could see was a bully on the outside. His boy was in there somewhere but Henry couldn't see the boy he had raised, he could only see the boy having meltdowns and attacking the one person Henry had ever loved.

A cry escaped Charlie's lips when Henry seemed to teleport right in front of him and grab the scruff of his jumper, wrenching him up to his feet by the piece of clothing.

"Henry!" (Y/n) pushed herself to her feet and stumbled over to her husband who seemed to have snapped for the first time ever. He was never like this with any of the kids when they did anything wrong but he was at the end of his rope.

Henry didn't know what else he could do to help Charlie or (Y/n) and it was killing him to have these scenes happening again and again. He had to do something.

"That is a lie Charlie. You regret it but don't you dare lie to me and pretend you don't mean it or else you wouldn't do it. I've had enough! Nothing is getting through to you but I sure as Hell need you to listen to me right now."

Henry yanked Charlie closer and leaned down until they were face to face and Charlie got his first taste of Hell. He had to see that this was only the tip of the iceberg and if he did one more thing out of line like this then Henry would unleash all types of ungodly things on him to teach him.

They had tried the nice approach, they had listened to him and tried to amend what was setting him off and making him unhappy but he wasn't working with them. If he actually tried then things would get better but he wasn't and it couldn't carry on like this. Charlie was on his last legs here or else Henry was going to do something drastic to teach him a lesson because he had to protect all of his family.

"Don't touch your mum like that again. I don't care what you try to do to me but you do not do that to your mum, you were damn lucky I didn't do anything to you when you stabbed her because if people found out you would be monitored and the police would know. So it works like this, you go for her again, you will not live in this house with us, I will take you to grandads or I will make this a separate room that you live in on your own. You slap her, I slap you, you punch her I will punch you and if you try and attack her, you will leave."

A cry escaped Charlie's lips before he started to grab and scratch at Henry's arms, repeatedly flinging his arms at Henry to try and get him to let go but Henry didn't budge an inch. He stood still, watching patiently as Charlie screamed and sobbed, kicking his legs out to try and get away but he couldn't go anywhere or do anything. Henry was too strong.

"Stop it! Fuck. Not fair, not fair. Daddy no!"

"No you're not fair! Stop having a tantrum and fucking listen to me." Henry's words roared around the room before he moved his free hand to grab Charlie's jaw in his hand. He had his finger pushing into Charlie's cheek and his thumb gripping his jaw to tilt Charlie's head up so they were looking at each other.

"Henry no let him go." (Y/n) wrapped her arms around Henry's arm but she knew she couldn't stop him or do anything because he was on the war path.

"I don't bring up my boys to abuse their mums so if you are my son you will stop this shit right now. You can have your tantrums and you can do what you want in this room but you do not hurt her because she is the most important person in your life and you will lose her if you keep doing this."

Charlie managed to nod his head the slightest bit before he became motionless, holding into Henry's arm for support rather than to try and hurt him as his chest began to heave.

With a swift motion, Henry leaned Charlie back and let go of him, watching his son flop back onto the sofa like jelly before he curled up and laid down to try and recover and calm down. He had been told how it was going to be and he was going to have to think it over and come to terms with it because that was how it was going to be.

Henry would take him to his parent's house or he would make the crash room into Charlie's little house because it was out the way. It was an extension past the kitchen and dining room. Charlie could be secluded there and go to the downstairs bathroom and the kitchen whilst the rest of them used the rest of the house. He would have minimum contact with them and no contact with his siblings until he learned to behave because Henry wasn't having him around them like this.

Turning on his heels, Henry wrapped his arm around (Y/n)'s waist and slowly guided her out of the room and through into the kitchen but the moment they were in there, (Y/n) buried herself into Henry's chest.

"He won't do it again, I'll get him out of the house if he does to show him."

"Henry I... I'm walking on eggshells around him and I'm his mother. I'm watching his every movement, tempted to lock doors in case he does something."

(Y/n) felt like she had failed because she was Charlie's mother, she was supposed to be doing whatever she could to protect him and look after him and she was. But she couldn't help but fear what she did in case she set Charlie off and he hurt her or the kids. (Y/n) was relieved he had never gone for his siblings in the way he went for her, that was good that he wouldn't take his anger out on them but he was doing it to (Y/n) and that wasn't okay either.

"I'm going to sort it out, sweetheart. I'm not leaving you alone with him right now, he can stay with my mum and dad and I'll make sure I'm home so he can start to get better."

Henry knew what was going through her mind and he knew she had every right to feel like this but he was going to do everything he could to make it better. He was going to make (Y/n) feel safe and help Charlie to curb that temper and learn how to control himself but more than that he wanted Charlie to learn respect.

"Go lie down sweetheart, I'll be up soon." Henry kissed (Y/n)'s temple and rubbed his palm briefly over her stomach before (Y/n) turned and slowly left the kitchen. The day had been long enough and she was more than in need for a lie down.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Henry sighed into his hand as he leaned against the counter. He tried his best to catch his breath and calm himself down, he had to go and check on the kids in a minute because he hadn't seen them yet he came straight home, livid with Charlie.

"I'm sorry, I love you and mum."

Those few words sent a shockwave through Henry and his frame briefly tensed when he felt thin arms slowly and cautiously winding around his middle. Trying to hold him properly but Henry's frame and muscles prevented him. Henry felt himself on the brink of tears when Charlie pressed his face into the middle of his back and he could feel tears soaking into his shirt. He moved his hand and clamped his palm over the back of Charlie's hand, willing the tears to go away.

"We'll sort it out Charlie."

#henry cavill #henry x reader #henry cavill imagine #dad! henry #imagine #pregnancy #pregnant! reader #like father like son

[star-anise]

The post you shared about Ortholexia was interesting because I definitely am like that towards what I read. I don't trust my ability to critically evaluate the ideas in a text before I adopt them so I try to police my reading material to eliminate bad texts. Are there some simple exercises I can do to become better at digesting ideas into harmless components before I incorporate them into my understanding of how the world works?

Yeah! That ability to “digest” ideas instead of absorbing them, that critical mindset, is something that gets built up through a lot of little repeated exercises. Read something, and ask yourself questions about it. 

Critical reading isn’t actually “What’s wrong with this text?” so much as “What does this mean, how does it get that point across, and what do I think about its intended and actual meaning and methods?”

It means, when you read a post, asking yourself:

What does this author intend to say? What is the obvious meaning, and what meanings might be implicit? Are there meanings and implications the author didn’t intend?

What ideas or context or framework am I using to understand it? Are my reference points the same as what the author uses, or different?

How does the author get their point across? What techniques do they use? What emotions are expressed or invoked? What evidence is given? Do the persuasive techniques actually back up the intended meaning?

What do I think about the author’s techniques, style, or tone? Is it persuasive? Think of how “It’s true, but it included a guilt trip so I’m not gonna reblog it” has become a common pushback against a consistent theme on Tumblr. A consistent tactic of trolls pushing misinformation is to be very emotionally persuasive to get their messages out there.

What do I think about the message the author is trying to get across? Social media encourages us to react fast and conform quickly. It’s easy for our stances on important topics to feel like a bunch of cobbled-together tidbits that we picked up somewhere, not a coherent framework of belief. Spend some of your time thinking deeply and seeking out deep information about an argument, so when you see a post on social media, you already have a framework and understanding of the issues you can compare the idea against.

Resources:

Critical Thinking by SkillsYouNeed

Critical Reading and Reading Strategy by SkillsYouNeed

Reading Critically by the University of Toronto

Logic by Philosophy Tube

Influence and Persuasion by Crash Course Media Literacy

Recognizing Persuasive Language by GCFGlobal

How to Spot Fake News by Toronto Public Library

How to Spot Russian Trolls Online Ahead of the 2020 Election

Something else that might be useful would be seeing other people analyze and take down an argument that’s promoting bigoted or untrue beliefs. This is often called “debunking” or “fact-checking” and when I need to relax and feel like there’s somebody on my side, I pull up Breadtube response videos tearing apart right-wing propaganda. I also used to watch a lot of Rachel Maddow for this too, but it’s hard for me to pick good debunking bits out of the trash fire of American politics in general these days.

Some examples: 

This is the Sequel JK Rowling Doesn’t Want You to Read by Dawn Ennis: Four experts fact-check her claims

Debunking Asexual and Aromantic Myths by Rowan Ellis

Reaction Videos by Kat Blaque

The Nonsense Politics of PragerU by Big Joel

The Death Penalty feat. PragerU by Shaun

Hope this helps!

#staranise original #critical thinking #this garbage hellsite #my problems with sj let me show you them #realquickwhatshouldwecallyu

[butyouvealwaysbeenthecaretaker]

This isn’t a competition, but I would like if the community pushed back a bit more on the verbal shibboleth of especially trans women, and like, thought a bit more critically about 1) whether that’s true of a particular situation they’re describing and, 2) what the politics of splitting up issues in this way are and like if it’s useful for the outcome they’re looking for.

Anyway, in the UK trans men actually experience DV at a higher rate, which is surprising, but mostly because online activist cultures are a wall of well-intentioned platitudes that this could never be the case; and we’ve just had another bit of news of a government-led decision specifically targeting trans men and non-binary people so like

I’d really like this year to be a year of not reflexively centering trans women as a sort of verbal tick, and instead both trying to have more nuance about how gender is used as a system of dominance, and what the facts are of how we live - while still not letting any demographic in our community get too much or too little time

(like, the basic idea of uplifting marginalised voices is a good guideline, but not the way its deployed online)

#my problems with sj let me show you them #a word for trans men

[vidalinav]

"Especially since she decided to be completely dependent on them financially". Oh, so, accordingly with the crazy anon, when you depend on someone financially, they can do whatever they want with you? Interesting. So, that mean Tamlin could do whatever he wanted with feyre and she was the one wrong in the situation? Also, lets not forget why nesta has to depend on the IC...

Well also, I'm like how far can you really go with that argument. This is what happens when it is less about how the book portrays information and more about what the person feels is their own stance about something.

Supporting someone is not a free pass to be indecent or take away someone's rights and autonomy. You make that claim without using the book, we have entered a moral/philosophical question about ownership and rights. Are parents allowed to do whatever they want with their children because they support them and if they perhaps do something wrong and ab*sive are they not still criminally held liable for that? If someone takes care of their elderly parent are they not entitled to a certain level of human decency or that caretaker can get charged criminally? I'm sticking to only the familial circumstances of this claim. I know there is this common conception of 'under my roof my rules' and that can be extended to Nesta, but then the simple solution is "Hey we don't like this behavior, we will no longer support this behavior monetarily. You can go live in the House, or any of these houses we have and get straightened, or you have to find your own means of living on your own. Bars won't serve you anymore. We are not paying for it." That's a PERFECTLY good option, a reasonable narrative choice, where Nesta easily could have many other subsequent events that show her character or show her failing and needing the IC, or giving in or whatever, but it offers some value to the narrative, and could potentially show that Feyre and Rhys are making an executive decision... that's mostly logical... shows I feel some level of being good rulers, judging correctly or in the best way they know. Easily done. It's a writer's choice.

BUT SJM chose to have her characters say: Live here where you cannot leave, you have 10,000 steps to contend with, you have to do these jobs we say, your apartment no longer exists, it’s being knocked down or we're going to kick you out to the human lands and you can survive there. Heaven forbid you stay in Velaris, on your own, without us. Was that not an option??? It doesn't seem like one. And then it's followed by scenes where Rhys and Mor and Amren and Cassian and Elain are antagonistic and none of these scenes are truly negated without scenes that offer some revelation. And then Nesta doesn’t have too much of a problem. So the effect/response is much more dramatic than the cause, and that imbalance doesn’t work to support that one party is not more advantaged over the other. 

Which is what I'm saying. Authors tell stories with both what is and what is not done. What is and what is not said. Evidence has to be provided for their claims about characters, the world that they are building. If there is none, then I have only these conclusions: Either these claims are more false and these are more correct OR what the author intended is not what is being delivered. One is a reading problem and one is a writing problem.

The "intervention" means virtually nothing narratively. You can make any choice that puts Nesta in a position where she has to make a change and it will work, precisely why S/JM could easily change it from you're coming to the Illyrian mountains to you're going to live at the House. She chose the oddest version of a "you need to make a change" possible and what it does is not show them as great rulers or benevolent characters, it shows them they are not--especially because of what is followed by this.

So the argument of "oh they are so caring and looking out for her, because Nesta needed this," is not supported. If it were to be supported, I need the information that follows to show some level of support to affirm this, but it doesn't. It could, easily, but it doesn't. And it also has to show that Nesta needed this, which it also doesn't.

With S/JM's writing, everything can technically be true because she doesn't write clear enough and she doesn't stick to things. But I affirm that some claims are more true than others as with anything--because that's how contextual evidence works. That's how reading works. You shouldn't have to twist your arm in several different directions to reach a conclusion or ignore half of the text.

At some points you just have to conclude that "Something about this group has been established and it made me like them and think they were morally "good" and righteous. Something has happened, but I still want to like them. I like them regardless of them being evidentiary not benevolent people which fans have claimed and can support (opposing sides will always exist and still be valid, that is not going away. Whether or not it's more supported is the question), or I like them in spite of the narrative that they are not. I am biased (always, for everyone) or the author perhaps is not writing well (which is definitely possible) or in a way that I feel is what I wanted to read (which is definitely possible)."

I, personally, say that there would be a lot less twisting, if S/JM had written this better, but since she didn’t I’m going off what happens in this book and what I feel that that shows consistently and throughout. Since much of the information in this book is not consistent with prior books, I have to take that prior information lightly or fully knowing that it’s possibly not consistent to this one. If these consistent narrative choices then amounts to some conclusion later in the series then I can say S/JM was setting something up, and she perhaps has an editing issue and tweaks need to be made to catch inconsistencies. If it doesn’t then SJ/M doesn’t know how she is framing her information and then it is officially a writer problem.  

I am done talking about the intervention now. 

#anti sjm #antisjm #anti inner circle #I don't think it's anti IC it's more a critique on SJMs writing #but I will tag because many don't want to see criticism of any kind #and that is valid #anti acosf #antiacosf #please unfollow me #please

[eirikrjs]

what do you think is the best smt game to start with? not necessarily the highest quality but the one that gives you the best introduction to the franchise

I was just lamenting the other day that Shin Megami Tensei 1 should be the best place to start because it being the progenitor means everything iterates off of it and therefore it provides a great foundation for anyone new. However, Atlus is stupid and hasn’t modernized the game and made it available on current platforms. Every other game released in English is of course perfectly playable to anyone but each has some caveats that prevent them from being fully starter friendly. Let’s check off the available main series games: 

Nocturne: We missed out on the context SMT1 and SMT2 provided to show that Nocturne was intentionally trying to shake up the formula. Rewards completion of sloppily-conceived but fun and substantial re-release edition content over main themes of the OG release (which we also never got). This “edgy” anti-theming then became the context for SMT for long after. For these reasons I really think Nocturne is a bad place to start, but it was my own start, so...

Strange Journey: The DS version might be the best way released in English to introduce yourself to SMT. A straightforward narrative that teaches you the basics of SMT conflict. Proves that Tokyo doesn't actually matter. However, it’s a dungeon crawler and one that is sadistic at times so you may already need to like that kind of game to enjoy it.

Shin Megami Tensei IV: A great environment and a scenario with lots of potential squandered by poor writing, the Achilles’ heel of modern RPGs. New demon art is not just bad, it is expressly anti-SMT and generic. The solid mechanics make it a commonly-seen rec for starters. It is a fun game and may be the best rec after SJ if you don’t think too hard about the narrative or consider what you see to be definitive.

Shin Megami Tensei IV Apocalypse: Its writing makes SMT4′s look good. Was intended to appeal to a slightly younger demographic of early teens and it shows. Its refined SMT4 gameplay might be the best in the series. If you can skip all the dialogue and make up your own story based on what little you see, it becomes an excellent SMT simulator.

Strange Journey Redux: It has the Nocturne problem of largely bad and poorly written re-release material intruding on and incentivizing itself over the original. Gameplay and dungeon navigation have been improved. I haven’t personally played this version but my heart still says to go for the original over this.

Then the spinoff games, which are sometimes recommended to newcomers:

Devil Survivor 1/Overclocked: This one (especially the Overclocked re-release) is a darling in some circles. At best it does have above-average writing (and a scenario that remixes SMT1) but there’s just too much of it that doesn’t advance the plot or characters. While it has grid-based map combat like any brand of Tactics game, it is rarely strategic as enemies usually take the battle to you. These games also feature the amateurish character art of Suzuhito Yasuda, a man so horny he seemingly draws only to please himself and I really think its low quality takes something away from the game. Very mixed on the game as a whole.

Devil Survivor 2/Record Breaker: Not a good starter, especially compared to the first game. Writing is atrocious and full of anime cliches. Has a great demon roster is the best I can say about it.

Digital Devil Saga 1/2: Great story and characters in this rare-for-the-series directly continuous narrative, but both games suffer from a high encounter rate (which can be lowered eventually), large costs for essential skill upgrades that encourage grinding, and loooong dungeons in between story beats. Uses Nocturne’s Press Turn system so the gameplay is solid. Its linear story and character focus completely eschew the series’ alignments and demon mechanics so it’s not a great way to learn about SMT itself. Honestly, you might be better off waiting for an inevitable DDS duology remaster.

Raidou Kuzunoha (Soulless Army): The first Raidou game is a mediocre action RPG set on prerendered backgrounds that always do their best to make the combat seem even less fluid. This is the only Raidou game with anything approaching an interesting story..., well, maybe the scenario is more interesting than the story itself. Again, a bad starter because the most interesting narrative bits are for veteran players and for the half-baked combat.

Raidou Kuzunoha (King Abbadon): The action combat is much improved and slightly more dynamic enough to be passable. Good thing because the story is somehow completely unappealing, from most angles. The entire appeal of the Raidou games seems to be in proportion to how cool you think the main character design is. I personally don’t get it.

Soul Hackers: A game that succeeds at all the basics: presentation, narrative, gameplay. Like SJ, this is a spinoff of the old mold and is a dungeon crawler (albeit one that’s far simpler) and, amazingly, the 3DS version features gameplay improvements and toggle-able features (some of which are basically in-game cheats) without modern story additions. Battles are extremely basic turn-based affairs, for better or worse. Has an excellent ‘90s cyberpunk atmosphere, the characters aren’t overwritten for better or worse, and the plot has plenty of what can be called “SMT moments.” If you can move past the lack of modern niceties and polish, it’s a great little game.

I really do care a lot about writing and presentation, especially internal consistency for the former and coordination for the latter. For too many of these games I’ve tapped out of what I’m seeing on the screen and default to the gameplay to keep me interested until the end. Life is too short for bad art.

But if you’re totally new, here’s a recommended starting order of the games available to easily purchase digitally/emulate:

Strange Journey (DS) or Shin Megami Tensei IV

SMT: Nocturne (HD coming in May)

Soul Hackers

Strange Journey is a good teacher of what the series is about but if it’s not to your liking, Shin Megami Tensei IV is the acceptable substitute teacher that bungled the lesson plan but at least makes attempts to sound informed, something most others don’t do. Nocturne is great but don’t make it your first. Have fun!

#shin megami tensei #soul hackers #strange journey #devil survivor #megaten #atlus #recommendation

[stusbunker]

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Epilogue

A Supernatural Denny AU Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other characters: Pamela, Jesse, Caesar, Crowley, Balthazar, Meg, Jo, Lee, Lisa, Sam (mentioned), Drea OFC, Robbie and SJ OMCs, Deanna OFC

Word count: 2340

A/N: Enjoy! xoxo Stu

Brunch

    The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. The remnants of the early snowstorm had left soggy lawns and damp sidewalks. Benny pulled up to the restaurant and parked on the curb, smiling over at Dean. He waited patiently. 

    “You sure this is a good idea?” Dean squinted in the midday light.

    “Been dying to meet ya. Figured it’s only fair, I met your folks, you can meet my people too,” Benny said simply. “But I’m not gonna force ya.”

    “I just, I’m not used to being out in public. In numbers,” Dean sputtered.

    Benny raised a single eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess this is your best shot to try it out, dontcha think?”

    “What if they don’t like me? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your friends,” Dean explained the root of the problem.

    “I like you, they will too. Just relax, be your charming self and if you don’t know what to say, you can just keep eating.” Benny put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing just so.

    Dean growled out a sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

    Like that could make an uncomfortable situation worth it. Benny smirked at Dean’s logic, waiting for his face to soften from grouchy to amiable. Once Dean relaxed, Benny kissed him, just long enough to keep him flustered and climbed out of the truck.

     They approached a large round table midway along the heated patio, where four people were already seated.

A raven haired woman waved them over. “My good Benjamin, did you bring a straight boy to brunch, just for me?!”

“Pammy!” Benny leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya darlin', but ain't nothing straight about this'n."

 “Hey, now! Can’t a guy speak for himself?!” Dean snipped defensively as he sat in the spot beside Benny.

Everyone laughed. Pamela raised her eyebrow in question.

Dean licked his lips and put on the smolder, “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m taken.”

“Wait, this--- THIS is your sassy mechanic?!” Crowley leaned forward, extending his hand, his English brogue gruff and pandering. “Nice to finally meet you, handsome.”

       Dean gave Benny the side eye and all Benny could do was shrug coyly. Dean shook the man’s hand, trying not to show his discomfort from his lingering glances. Benny made the rest of the introductions, Jesse and Cesar were also a couple, but had been married for a few years. They seemed to be waiting on someone before they ordered. The group sipped their cocktails with a fresh pitcher of Bloody Mary in the center of the kitsch tablecloth.

Benny poured Dean a generous portion of the red drink and slipped seamlessly into the conversation. Dean sucked the palmeto out of an olive and listened casually, not too sure where he fit in this part of Benny’s life.

Twenty minutes later a rail of a guy swaggered in, with oversized aviators and a black linen suit. 

“Oh, thank Christ for booze,” he huffed, grabbing Dean’s glass without even acknowledging Dean was there. The blonde chugged the entire drink, before breaking for air. “I just had the worst hook up of my life, no, well, the year at least. He took me to his mother’s house. She tried to make me breakfast. I was simply mortified. I just left. What could I even do at that point, honestly?!”

Now that his audience had his attention back, the man gawked at Dean. He even pulled down his sunglasses for a better look. “Now who the fuck is this? Is it show and tell?! Because I am not prepared in the least.” 

He casually patted at his hair and eyed Dean from top to toe. Benny chuckled, but Pamela was the one to make the introduction.

“Balthazar, our regular hangover diva. Meet Dean, Benny’s boy toy,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” Balthazar lamented, looking from Pam to Benny to Crowley and finally at Dean. “Fuck you southerners and your goddamn accents--- always gets the hotter ones,” he muttered defensively as he threw himself against the armrest of the chair, crossing his legs.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Cesar ended the dramatics concisely. “Maybe somebody should find our waitress?”

Dean looked at Benny confused. “We’re always here for a while, she doesn’t bother us until we’re actually ready to order. Tend to annoy her otherwise.”

Crowley volunteered as he needed to head to the men’s room anyhow. Five minutes later he arrived with an obviously surly waitress.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Meg’s smokey voice broke through Balthazar's latest story. She centered herself between Cesar and Crowley’s seat and cocked her hip, tongue firmly in cheek as she waited for Dean to take her bait.

“Heya, Meg,” Dean sighed. The inevitable caught up with him after all, they just had to run into someone he knew.

“Oh, this has got to be good, now, pray tell, how do you two know each other?” Crowley probed.

“Oh me and this schmuck? We go way back.” Meg smiled without teeth.

“Is that so?” Benny tested the waters.

“Not like that,” Dean grumbled. “Meg, here, took my little brother Sammy out for a few spins, back in the day. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It was high school.” Meg let her indifference coat her entire being until curiosity sparked to life in her eyes. “So what are you doing with this crowd, or did they bring you in just to add a new level of torture to my Sunday shifts?”

“Well---.” Dean swallowed, looked at Benny for clarification and got mild amusement instead. “I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Joy,” Meg bristled before taking their orders, knowing most of the table’s usuals before they even opened their mouths.

News

    Benny rushed into the customer entrance of the shop, the wet October air had kept the service doors closed for the past week. He leaned against the counter, decorated in local business cards and charity fliers, anxiously waiting for someone to talk to. His chest was so tight he worried he’d pass out from excitement. He just needed to see him was all, once he saw Dean it would be easier.

    Lee sauntered in from the service bay, they both had drawn the short straw it seemed.

    “Hey, mind getting Dean for me? It’s important,” Benny asked, unable to keep the burning smile from his face.

    Lee eyed him curiously but nodded and headed back the way he came. He didn’t shout, not really. “Dean-o, your boyfriend’s looking for ya.”

    Dean unfurled himself from the engine he had been tinkering with all morning and glared at Lee.

    “Husband, whatever, seems urgent,” Lee acquiesced. Dean nodded and wiped his hands off on the closest rag. Dean pulled his wedding band out from his undershirt out of habit more than anything. He couldn’t wear it on his hands at work, but he didn’t want to lose it so Benny made him a braided leather necklace once they got back from their honeymoon.

    Dean ignored formality and walked straight into the waiting room. Once he saw the look on Benny’s face he knew what was happening.

    “It’s go time?” He asked, shock and exhilaration sparking his instinct to move.

    “It’s go time, cher. Lisa called me on the way to the hospital. Sam’s driving her from the office. Her water broke about 9:30,” Benny explained, the nervousness slipping into his cadence.

    “Alright, I’m gonna clean up, you want me to drive?” Dean asked, gauging the unsteadiness in his usually stalwart husband.

    “That’s probably best, yeah,” Benny agreed. 

Dean leaned in and kissed him firmly, resting his forehead against Benny’s temple before pulling away.“Hey, we got this, alright? That kid is gonna be so spoiled having you for a daddy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking, gonna have you wrapped around their finger before they can even crawl,” Benny teased back, inhaling with contentment.

Dean headed back to warn his coworkers that he had a baby on the way and to clean up enough to be allowed into a hospital. Jo followed Dean out into the lobby. Quickly, she hugged Benny before demanding regular updates to the group chat.

“Alright, get out of here, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the week. Let me know and I will put in paternity leave as soon as everyone’s home, okay?” Jo got all professional about things as Dean left.

“Oh, right, shit. Well, I guess I’ll let you know when you can come over and---,” Dean started before Benny pulled him by his elbow.

“We should be goin’” Benny urged. Dean looked at Jo one last time and nodded.

This was it.

   Dean held Benny’s hand the whole way to the hospital, their grip tightening every so often, grounding them both. Because Lisa was a friend and the surrogacy was looser than most circumstances, both Benny and Dean were allowed in the delivery room. They were the best cheerleaders a birth mom could have ever asked for. Seven hours later, one chubby baby girl entered the world screaming to high heaven and splitting her fathers’ hearts open for an entirely new level of love and devotion.

    Mary Andrea Lafitte-Winchester, or Drea for short, was a happy and healthy little girl. And an overprotective big sister to her twin brothers, Samuel Joel and Robert Fergus, who came along four years later.

Sunset

    They’re old men now. Dean is five years retired, while Benny works the register for their sons on the weekends. Both of their hands aren’t what they used to be. But they keep busy. Drea is bringing the kids round tomorrow, it’s the start of summer break and Dean’s been dying to teach her kids to fish.  

    Dean went grey after he turned fifty, but it hasn’t changed since, in color at least. Benny’s beard is as white as Santa Claus and he hides what little hair he has left under a cap. They’re both a little rounder, a little lower to the ground, but they got that way together and neither of them notice it on one another anyhow.

       Every year they visit Jesse and Cesar in Arizona for New Year's. Though they fly more than make the drive these days.

        They still take turns cooking the meals and the movie nights from their early days resurfaced into movie afternoons when their kids moved out. Dean can’t hear for shit anymore and, naturally, Benny makes fun of him for it. But Dean’ll put in his hearing aids if company is over.

 It’s early evening in the beginning of June and the bugs are orchestrating quite the soundtrack to their time on the porch. Dean pours his whiskey. Benny’s already sipping his sweet tea, his medications don’t let him drink much anymore. Jo’ll come by on Sunday, along with SJ and his wife and Robbie. Sam and Jess usually make it to every other dinner or so.

    “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” Dean teases, once a flirt always a flirt.

    “Not at all, cher. It’s a helluva view,” Benny glances at his husband, watches Dean take in the peaches and pinks kissing the slopes of the fields. They sit like that for an hour, until the dark is too thick to see through. Groaning and creaking they stand in turn. Dean keeps his hand on the small of Benny’s back as they head inside for the night, steadying them both.

    They moved their bedroom to the ground floor after Dean’s heart attack, a lot less worry about making it upstairs that way. After being married forty years, Dean still makes jokes about it being Benny’s place. But it’s always been his home. He kisses Benny goodnight, makes it a little saucy because he can. He’s the first to close his eyes.

    In the morning Benny makes waffles and tofu bacon. Dean pretends he can’t taste the difference, fooling no one. They make out while the sink fills for the dishes, too few to run the machine. Benny gets handsy first and Dean tries to squirm into the upperhand. They’re interrupted by a car pulling in the drive.

    “Busted,” Benny whispers.

    “You’re the one who wanted kids,” Dean grumbles against Benny’s neck, an old, unfounded retort.

    “Yeah, but the grandkids---,” Benny starts.

    “Were made to be spoiled,” Dean finishes and kisses Benny once more. Drea’s yelling at her kids to slow down before her dads even make it outside to greet them. Her eyes, blue as her daddy’s are tired. They don’t envy her the school aged years. Dean bends down as baby Deanna, who’s nearly four, comes crashing into his arms. He pulls her up and holds her tight, reminds him of her mama and he can’t help but get a little weepy over the passing years. 

    “It’s so good to see you, baby girl.” Benny pulls his daughter into a hug before helping with their bags. The older kids don’t come inside until it’s time to eat, climbing through the barn and splashing in the creek until they’re soaked. But Deanna sticks with her Grandpa on a simple stroll, while Pappy and Mama catch up.

    Dean still has the jacket he bought from Benny, though the pants are long gone. He’ll leave it to Robbie when the time comes, when his son finds himself a stud that’s worth settling down for. If that’s what he chooses. 

    For now, Dean lets his granddaughter pick up every rock and stick she finds and examines it to the nth degree. He explains what he can about each one. She’s very curious. He even lets her wipe her chubby little hands on his pants’ leg when she needs to. They get back to the house just in time to start dinner, but before they go inside Dean takes a mental picture of his husband on the porch, their daughter beside him and his granddaughter running past him.

   It is a helluva view after all. 

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#supernatural #supernatural au #spn fanfic #spn au #dean/benny #dean winchester x benny lafitte #bi!dean #aga: epilogue #A Gentlemen's Agreement #childbirth #meeting the friends #found family #aging #mortality #love of a lifetime #grandpa and pappy #health issues #Joel is for Jo and Ellen