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thewulf · 3 months

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Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it. He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy

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hotvintagepoll · 12 days

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Propaganda

Rita Moreno (Singin' in the Rain, West Side Story)—She’s an EGOT, an absolute legend for how she navigated her career as a woman of color in the fifties and sixties. Her performance as Anita in West Side Story is why I go back to that movie so many times. She is an icon and she is the moment.

Elizabeth Taylor (Cleopatra, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof)—iconic actress with purple eyes and a double row of eyelashes, the real ebony dementia ravenway of old hollywood. known for her stunning tastes when it comes to jewelry and her incredible, incredible advocacy during the AIDS crisis.

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Rita Moreno propaganda:

"Amazing showstopping actress in her one big memorable role as Anita in West Side Story. She sings and dances with unmatched joy and energy, and then breaks your heart with her acting. Rita took a role that felt as a stereotype to latina women and made it compelling and multifaceted. Her subsequent career was filled with mostly side roles, but she still managed to excel in whatever Hollywood threw at her."

"It’s Rita!! The EGOT herself! She can act, she can sing, she can dance, a triple threat. Obviously absolutely iconic as Anita in West Side Story (her part of the Tonight Quintet is the sexiest part of the film, fight me). But before that she was the amazing Zelda in Singin’ In the Rain!?! Thanks Zelda, you’re a real pal."

"She continues to be amazing but also she's got legs for days."

"THEE iconic rita moreno, EGOT winner, civil rights activist, theatre legend. watch her documentary "Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go for It". also her rendition of "fever" on the muppet show"

youtube

Elizabeth Taylor:

I've been trying to steer clear of the absurdly-big names, but damnit, those violet eyes got me. The *talent*, the *presence*, the string of marriages and (temporally out-of-bounds) work in combating AIDS and pioneering in the concept of the celebrity fragrance line.

Not only did she have gorgeous violet eyes and lashes for days and one of the hottest voices ever, she was also a big supporter of the gay community

Child actress turned starlet, Liz dominated films as one of the greatest screen legends of classic hollywood. If your protagonist has violet eyes, they're imitating hers.

A Legend. She was serving milf rage in Whos Afraid Of Virginia Woolf. A Star in every sense of the word.

She was renowned for the beauty of her eyes; they were a dark blue but could look violet in certain lighting, something that photographers would actually touch up to look even more so in pictures. But even more striking was a genetic mutation that gave her a double row of eyelashes. She was also famed for her string of husbands -- 8 marriages to 7 men. Two-time hubby Richard Burton once said she was “a wildly exciting love-mistress… beautiful beyond the dreams of pornography.”

Her EYES. Early and loud support for gay rights and AIDS victims. Married a bunch of hot dudes, Burton twice!

just look at her. she's gorgeous. there's a video somewhere of her applying her eyeliner in the mirror and I think about it all the time

THE Hollywood actress of all time. Not only was she known for her long dark locks and blue-violet eyes, she also had one of the wildest life stories ever….. She’s Carrie Fisher’s stepmother because her father Eddie Fisher cheated on Debbie Reynolds with Liz. She was knighted as a dame of England. She was married to seven different men, one of them twice. She was also very kindhearted and did a lot of charity activism.

Asides from being an iconic actor, she did a lot of philanthropy and co founded the American Foundation for AIDS research. She’s sometimes considered one of the last great stars of old hollywood

#elizabeth taylor #rita moreno #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 6 #Youtube

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fangirltothefullest · 1 month

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I find it fascinating seeing the use of tone indicators circle around so much back to a similar way that my mom used them in early AOL message board days. Tone indicators are useful to us because they help people read how we are talking and the tone we intend so as to not alarm people when talking online. We don't have the ability to tell if anyone is serious by playful manner of facial and physical expression so they're useful to us online even now!

But the fact that they evolve and change is fun to watch even as I watch it circle around.

So here's some examples of American tone indicators and outside influences to them that I've seen since first being online:

My mom's age- AOL users/early message board system used a fabulously straightforward way of indicating tone:

::::begin sarcasm now::::, ::::laughing::::, ::::shaking my head::::

The usage of colons was an easy way to identify a tone indicator was coming. There was a very limited way of creating text and often message boards did not come equipped with rich text formatting so this was a perfect way to show what you meant. They tended to have indicators fully worded with no short/chatspeak.

Then two things happened near each other- cellphones and rich text formatting being more prominent in online spaces.

Starting with cellphones- when they became a more accessible thing, tone indicators changed and abbreviations of the sayings became prominent, originally known as "chat speak" which began to form much more readily in texts and online. These indicators tended to be indecipherable unless told what they meant and the indicators had to be memorized:

Rofl, lol, smh, istg, wtf, ruok,

These tone indicators persist today, but part of their legacy was the limitation on character counts. Most places had a 140 character limit, meaning you had to get your message across fairly quickly. A way to indicate tone was either go the abbreviation route, or use the rich text editing.

Rich text allowed for italics, bonding and underlining so people could use these tools to indicate tone. These also had to be learned, because not everyone read them the same way and sometimes different places online would have different etiquette on what each tone meant. Freeboards would often have one board to specify what each one was for:

Sarcasm was popularly italicized

Anger was often bolded

Underlining was used often for seriousness

CAPSLOCK WAS YELLING!!!!

BOLDED CAPSLOCK WAS REALLY FUCKING ANGRY!!!

ITALICIZED BOLDED CAPSLOCK WAS A CATACLISMIC EVENT EVEN WITH A PERIOD.

If you had the ability to strike through, it was a whisper or afterthought.

Doubling your rich text with different punctuation could change the tone.

But the internet also let people in America see other people's cultures more readily. We are notoriously bad for teaching about other cultures here but the internet did allow us something fun! An exchange of faces if you will.

In the West, we were using emoticons with other things (note that this was dependent on if it would not work if your HTML or CSS confused the brackets and parentheses etc. as coding):

:), :(, :O, >:(, =), =D, D8, D:<, O_O, ( • )( • ), >.>, 8===D~~~, [̲̅$̲̅(̲̅1̲̅0̲̅)̲̅$̲̅], ಠ__ಠ, ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ,

But now we could see that other people were making faces in different ways and the anime crowd caught on very quickly:

OTL, (^_^;), (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄), (/◕ヮ◕)/, \(^o^)/, (✿◠‿◠), ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, (づ￣ ³￣)づ, (OwO), (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻,

Boy do I LOVE emoticon indicators! A lot of them are still used today as well.

And then things shifted again when cellphones gave us emojis! Now tone indicators were colourful!

🥺🤞🙂😔❤️😝🙄😨😱😣💀🤏👍👎🤞

But they were not accessible as easily to PC users so there becomes a nice little divide between who is and isn't using them. Also there are so many now sometimes it's hard to figure out what the intended emotion is, considering they look different on different devices! But the younger age groups of my students are trained on emojis! So much so that if I ask them to draw happiness, they draw the happy emoji.

I'm sure I'm missing a few but right now we've been back to a combined group of tone indicators! Here on tumblr we are using the slash to indicate tone much like the original AOL message board users used the colon and we are shortening the words AND using abbreviations and some write out the whole thing! Its FASCINATING seeing it come full circle.

/gen, /pos, /jk, /srs, /serious, /genuine, /positive, /happy, /encouraging

I just love how languages evolve! 8D

What are some tone indicator trends YOU noticed in your online spaces?

Edit: FIXED all of the stupid phone spelling errors.

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emo-batboy · 3 months

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Tbh I was always under the impression Metropolis is NYC and Gotham is Boston. Like iirc Arkham is based on an asylum that was in Danvers MA? The east coast city rivalry vibes feel pretty identical to me. Gotham's organized crime has big whitey bulger energy to me idk.

Gotham has always been adjacent to NYC.

Before DC decided NYC was a real place in their universe, Gotham and Metropolis were considered to be the light and dark side of the same Bay Area, taking up residence where NYC would be. Afterwards, Gotham has always been placed squarely across the Hudson River from NYC in North NJ. Until they couldn’t decide where Metropolis is.

Metropolis is a child of divorce.

The first time DC claimed it was in Delaware was the 70’s. (I don’t know why. They just did.) I think DC realized that making NYC a part of the universe meant they couldn’t make Gotham and Metropolis twin cities anymore so now, whenever they want to bring that dynamic back, they either ignore NYC altogether or move Gotham to the Delaware Bay and claim Metropolis is in Delaware.

But ever since Metropolis was a city, it’s been in NY. It’s been in NY since the 30’s. Usually, it’s placed somewhere above Manhattan, particularly near Westchester or just outside of the NY Metropolitan Area. So in my head, it’s about an hour above NYC but still west of Connecticut.

I like the concept of them being twin cities, but they have such different vibes that I can’t imagine them being right beside one another, and I think a lot of comic writers know that too. So I always place Metropolis in NY. Maybe it’s further upstate like DC sometimes claims, but Gotham and Metropolis are always within three hours of each other without fail.

But yeah, the more you know :) toodles

#I totally see the Boston thing tho #kind of like how some people think Metropolis is Chicago #DC why do you make everything so hard #pick one #and put Metropolis in NY #Gotham #metropolis #batman #superman #dc universe #dc #Gotham city #Bruce Wayne #clark kent

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soraka-in-warhammer40k · 10 months

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I'm always fascinated when someone at the club rants about "how they just invented T'au to cash on them anime weebs", completly oblivious to the time and culture of their creation. So T'au came out first in 2001, and were obviously conceptualized some years prior, which puts them into the late 90s in their original design. This is slowly hitting "the majority of the populance has no relevant internet access whatsoever" levels of "barbaric analog ages".

So imagine where GW sits in the late 90s - its a small studio somewhere in England barely coming to touch with the first elements of the internet, with the most dominant medium being television which... is not really about "exotic" shows from the other end of the world? Those get ported over when they have proven to be a hit in their own country mostly.

And without the internet as we know it today, the anime community just... did not exist. You have to understand that the whole concept of online anime culture centred around piracy, fansubs, fanart, and the creation of the term "weeabo" was a mid-to-late 00s thing, and it took almost another decade before "weeb" was somewhat reclaimed and no longer an online-slur.

There was a whole generation that grew up with (often horribly localized) japanese shows on TV (Pokemon, Dragon Ball, Sailor Moon) which came over with some delay to their release in Japan. By the time this generation came to congregate into online spaces and form any sort of fan-identity and culture, the T'au and their battlesuits had already been a design over a decade old.

"But wait isn't Gundam from the 70s"? Yes, that is totally correct. However, this is the one glaring mistake people make: you cannot compare modern day media content circulation around the globe to the analog ages. Those of us who remember these barbaric analog times know how it was: you just did not know stuff existed. If it was not in the newspaper or on the telly, it might as well not exist unless you knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy.

Sure, the Internet was slowly becoming a thing that found widespread use, but it would still take a while - not to mention the technical limitations. No streaming episodes. You start the download (if you can find someone who hosted the file of a series you had to know even existed first) somewhere around lunch, to hopefully get something to watch in the afternoon. Oh and also that blocked the household's phone-line and if the download cancelled for whatever reason then it was back to square one. Under such conditions, the online community we know today could simply not exist, as the alternative was importing stuff from the other end of the world for quite the money, or hoping a really shoddy localized VCR-tape ended up at your Blockbuster-equivalent.

Of course there was anime before that time, even those regarded absolute classics in the west, but those mostly achieved that rank over here in retrospective. When in the late 00s people wanted to watch stuff and had the ability to do so they shared what was considered "the classics" first (shared to the best of their ability with one episode cut into 5 parts on youtube with sometimes very questionable subtitles).

So even if we assume there was someone at GW in the 90s who was a total "proto-weeb" and Gudam-fan, there was literally no reason to "make knock-off Gundams" because the miniscule western wargaming audience SIMPLY DID NOT KNOW THE STUFF.

You can't make a marketing ploy to reference something your average consumers have never heard off. If anything, the creation of the T'au as a robotic-centred faction was inevitable: they needed a design that could hold their own in the setting, but Necrons hogged the full-robot niche, Imperials were weird cyborgs, Orks the "madman-scrap-tech", and Nids the "biotech". The only thing left here was "not full robot but also very clean and efficient" - and just like that, the Battlesuits and Drones were born.

It was only in later years when the Internet had come into full swing where they decided to go full-suit with releases such as the Riptide, but if we talk about the OG design of T'au and the first decade? Nothing to do with anime or "fishing for weebs". The fish would not be coming to that spot for almost a decade, and it would take a bit more before their numbers were plentyful enough to make it worth casting a line out.

#random rant #wh40k #T'au #tau empire #warhammer 40k

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unamazing-sheep21 · 7 months

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The Daroga is actually an extremely important character to the themes of Phantom of the Opera

Many people might not know this but living as a Muslim/brown person in the west ( especially France… see: burqab ban, burkini ban, hijab ban, etc) is extremely difficult for some. Not to mention in a world post 9/11. Not to mention ( probably) in the 1890’s like in Phantom of the Opera where orientalist art and inaccurate and often dehumanising portrayals of the Middle East and it’s people ( muslims, arabs, Persians etc) were common and were used to justify colonialism.

In classic literature there’s only like, ONE character who is brown and is treated like an actual human being by the narrative and is presented as a central cast member to boot: and that’s the Daroga/ The Persian in Phantom of the Opera. And even then, every adaptation after either replaces him with a white person or has an incredibly disingenuous and inaccurate portrayal of him and his ethnicity/religion. Heck, in the Phantom Susan Kay book he’s given the surname “Khan” which isn’t even Persian it’s a PAKISTANI name.

Every other presumably brown/POC character are written animalistically and antagonistically. E.g Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights and Bertha from Jane Eyre. Bertha especially who is just used as an obstical/metaphor instead of an actual genuine character who deserves her own nuance and voice.

Now, back to the tittle, why do I think The Persian’s mere existence and especially with him being Persian/Muslim is inexplicably tied to the themes of POTO? Because he’s just like Erik and completely unlike Erik at the same time. In the book he’s constantly described as wearing as astrakhan cap/ a fez. Something quintessentially Middle Eastern and exposes him as ethnic right away to the eyes of the then European public. Both Erik and The Persian have sides of them that the society they live in at large shuns/dehumanises/condemns. For Erik it’s his face, and for The Persian it’s his culture/ religion/ race. But unlike Erik, The Persian has the choice to “ take it off” or assimilate more into society. He can, and it was better for him if he wore, a top hat but he CHOOSES to wear a fez. And he never takes it off. While he CAN and he has the chance to be more accepted in society than he already is.

But Erik can’t “take it off”, he can’t take off his face.

Though we don’t know much about the Persians’ beliefs, it’s safe to assume he was probably Muslim since Persia has been a Muslim country for a long time ( ignore the one we have now lmao). And I like to think that even in France he doesn’t give up this one part of him. He could just convert to whatever the majority religion in France was at the time and he would be more assimilated into French society, but he doesn’t . He actively chooses to keep parts of who he is even though they put him at a disadvantage. In contrast, Erik would give anything and does try everything ( even to phycotic lengths ) to be considered “ Normal” in society.

And throughout all of Erik’s efforts the only one who was ever really there for him was The Persian. But Erik dismisses him constantly.

I like to think that The Persian stayed because he understands Erik to a certain degree, and I like to think that Erik resents him because he doesn’t use every chance he gets to assimilate into society. To be considered normal. Sometimes Erik quite literally would kill for. Instead hanging onto every part that makes him who he is even when it only isolates him further.

#phantom of the opera #classic litterature #andrew lloyd webber #phantom of the opera musical #The Daroga #Nadir Knan #erik the phantom #erik destler #christine daae #raoul de chagny #gothic romance #gothic fiction #gothic literature #Orientalism #colonialism #imperialism

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chocodile · 6 months

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Apologies if you've answered this somewhere: for your Amaranthine 'verse, are there any "hybrid" animal folk? On one hand, kwillow's Theo has a rat and a stoat as parents, but Theo himself is a rat (with his mother's coloring, but still a rat). On the other, Ambroys very clearly looks like a cross between a horse (father) and Something Else (Celestial mother). In the middle is Hayden's one night stand with the cat barmaid, which resulted in a child with a bunny's snout/tail, a flatter catlike face, and bunny ears a biiiit too wide and pointed to be 100% "bunny."

I'm super curious about the genetics of it as well as the social aspect (i.e. is son considered a bunny/cat/both by his peers?). It's one of my favorite bits about anthro worldbuilding!

Hybrids exist, but are pretty rare!

Typically, children will just inherit their species from one parent or the other. Hybridization is very unusual and typically is limited to one or two very minor traits--like the child of a rabbit having slightly longer ears, the child of a weasel having a noodlier build, the child of a carnivore having fangs, etc. In almost all cases, the dominant species of the child is very clear, and the hybrid traits tend to be very recessive--rarely preserved beyond one generation.

Particularly in the Western Kingdom, though, hybrid children do have a reputation for being unlucky, an ill omen, or even outright cursed (depending how superstitious the person you're asking is). There are a few reasons for this… the simplest is that hybrid traits are sort of a "birth defect" that can sometimes present along with other health issues. Though not all hybrids are frail and sickly, any concern about a child's susceptibility to illness was a huge deal in rural peasant villages that already tended to have high childhood mortality rates.

Over time, the perception of hybrid children = ill omen became warped and exaggerated. Western Kingdom folktales sometimes cast hybrids as vaguely supernatural trickster characters, such as tales of mysterious changeling babies whose hybrid traits eventually revealed them to be half Infernal.

For this reason, the actual frequency of hybrid traits is probably greatly under reported… anyone who can hide or ignore or lie about their hybrid traits probably will. Though most Western Kingdom superstitions fell away after the collapse of the old kingdoms, some degree of stigma in Post-Fall society remains. No one seriously thinks a sheep with fangs is half Infernal anymore (most don't believe that Infernals and Celestials even exist), but it will still probably be passively assumed that a hybrid is less fit for difficult labor, among other things.

Half Celestial and Half Infernal offspring work a bit different… they're always technically "hybrids", but specifically hybridize in such a way that they take the form of mythological creatures (unicorn, dragon, cockatrice, etc). I'll let Kwillow talk more about this when she discusses Ambroys' mother since she's been the one working on this section of the lore, but Half Celestials are most certainly seen as a blessing. Half Infernals… well, fear of them is part of the reason hybrids are stigmatized in the first place, so suffice to say they have it rather rough. How severe the stigma is varies across cultures and tends to be worse in the rural West, better in cities, and pretty much completely absent in much of the Eastern Kingdom.

In the Post-Fall present day, nobody believes Celestials, Infernals, or their offspring exist anymore... aside from those who know about The Kingdom of the Sun.

Also, once in a while, a hybrid is born whose traits are so blended that their parent species are difficult to determine. These very unlucky individuals are referred to as "chimeras" and tend to have shorter life expectancies, among other things. We may be seeing a character who fits this description eventually. :P

#I wrote up a whole thing for this and then Tumblr deleted it and I was so annoyed it took another month before I felt like rewriting it #I still think the old version that Tumblr bugged out and erased was better #ah well #furry #worldbuilding #furry worldbuilding #verse: amaranthine #wow the new post editor really doesn't play nice with read more does it

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 4 months

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cool, cool, okay, okay, cool, cool

joel farabee x f!gotham fc player

summary: sometimes media conferences are just so unbearable you're left with no choice but to immediately seek out the one person with the ability to distract you from the mess of it

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 3.5k

“What does a typical year look like for you in terms of where you’re going to be, where you’re planning to be, when you’re not playing soccer or training?”

You looked down at the table, rolling your eyes, before looking up towards the various cameras set up in front of you. The voice that had spoken came somewhere from your right, but with the lights blaring from the cameras, you couldn’t quite make out who it was standing next to it.

The question ran through your mind, and you tried to keep a neutral face when the implications of exactly what they were talking about were clear. You’d stated before that you weren’t comfortable discussing your personal life with the media, even before the whole thing with Joel was rumoured, and despite knowing they’d come back with more pokey, invasive questions this season, it did nothing to help the swell of irritation sparking at your fingertips.

“I’m just here to talk about soccer.” You shrugged uncomfortably, eyes wearily scanning the media crowd, awaiting your next question.

As much as you loved what you did, the worst part of it was definitely having to deal with the media.

“...was wondering what your living situation is now considering Mewis was traded to the WSL?”

You sighed into the microphone, “Uh, it’s not really about soccer, but…” you breathed a laugh. You’d answer this one, though, (even though there was a hint of thinly veiled curiosity about exactly where you were residing and who with) mostly just because it was about Kristie, “Yeah, unfortunately I’m not living with Kristie anymore, but I managed to keep hold of the apartment here which was pretty lucky, and I wish her all the best for her future at West Ham; I know she’s gonna kill it out there.”

There was a general hum as reporters seemed to agree and nod their heads, offering smiles that were bordering dangerously between being a little condescending or pitying, before another voice cut in, this time towards the back, “There’s two more months before your season starts, is there anything in particular that you’re working on to improve your game in the off-season, or have you just been taking a break?”

“You make it seem like taking some time off is a bad thing.” You commented drily, breathing a rather uncomfortable laugh into the microphone.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it in that sense, I was just wondering what you’ve been getting up to in the off-season.”

Fuck.

You inhaled, nodding to bide your time and stall to get your words in the right order, “Yeah, I’ve been resting, trying to recharge for next season and get my mind in order, but I’ve also been training, too.”

“We saw from the Philadelphia Flyers’ hockey team’s socials that you’d also been getting involved there–”

You felt yourself tense.

“And I guess I was just wondering if the Flyers are a team you support in the NHL?”

The breath you’d been holding flew past your lips in a relieved breath, “Yeah, they are. I grew up in a household that were strictly Flyers fans, so it was a pretty special moment getting invited as their guest. I brought my family along, too, which was pretty cool.”

“Did you get a chance to meet Gritty?”

The next laugh was genuine when you nodded, “I did. I was nervous going into that, but I came out alive so I’m taking that as a win. Gritty was great–”

“I know you said you don’t talk about your personal life, and I’m not gonna ask a question, but you were recently pictured leaving a cinema–” you stifled a groan and pressed your hands against your face to shield your reddening cheeks from the cameras. It was bound to come up at some point, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about Joel, because a small part of you did, but if you did – if – then that’d just distract from your job and more journalists would feel more entitled to ask more questions, and it just wasn’t something you were interested in, “with Flyers’ left wing, Joel Farabee–”

You sighed tiredly, shutting the door behind you, an hour and a bit of travelling back to Philly after the day you’d been subjected to catching up to you. You weren’t technically supposed to be back here until tomorrow, but the first step you’d taken out of that conference room was enough to have you booking an earlier train and risk getting in late, rather than getting the train early in the morning.

The whole of the bottom floor of the house was silent, and your eyes seemed to automatically seek out the expected line of shoes next to the door as you toed your own off, just to gauge who exactly had decided to spend the night. Joel’s you recognised, but there were also another two pairs – most likely belonging to Tyson and Frosty.

You shrugged off your coat, picking up the holdall you’d already had pre-packed from this morning, before tiptoeing up the staircase, mindful for any possible light sleepers, ensuring not to step on a creaky floorboard. There was a small light on in the hallway, and the door to Joel’s room was cracked open slightly, a murmur of sound and flashing lights seeping through from the TV.

You paused on the landing, peeking your head around and concentrating on the sound.

The fucker was watching a rerun of your conference from earlier.

Your feet decided to move before your brain could even realise what was happening, because before you could wallow in the fact that he’d clearly known you were on your way back earlier and purposefully left the hall lamp on, you’d pushed open the door a slither more to sneak through without making too much noise, and were greeted with a softly smiling Joel – his eyes fixed onto the conference before flicking to you in the doorway.

“You’re such a sight for sore eyes.” You sighed gratefully, taking in his PJ-clad form lounged casually on top of the covers. He had one arm resting on the top of his head rather lazily, his other draped across his torso.

“Well, I’m always glad to be of service.” He grinned, pushing himself to sit up, his arms now resting across his kneecaps, “That bad, huh?” He gestured to the screen at the foot of his bed, and you nodded, dropping your bag on top of the covers and leaning down for a much-needed kiss.

“It started off fine, but right about now,” you nodded, cringing, “you can tell they’re trying to get nosy.”

“I hate it when they do that.” He agreed solemnly, not saying much else, but watching you with intrigued, patient eyes as you dug around in your bag.

You shot him a glance, taking in the eye bags and bleary blinks as he fought off sleep, “You didn’t have to wait up for me, y’know?” You murmured, unable to help smiling – both at the soft man in front of you, and at the triumph of finally locating what you were looking for.

Joel just shrugged, albeit a little bashfully, “I figured…I don’t know, I just missed you.”

You felt a small lump gather in your throat at his honest confession, and you fought off the sudden emotion that seemed to be the consequence of your fatigue and refusal to sleep on the train, and chose to throw the bag on the floor – gently – and climb on the bed. Joel seemed to expect that kind of reaction, because before you’d even done any of that he was lifting your side of the duvet up with a smile that just blew your damn mind every time you saw it.

The shirt clutched in your grip, you followed him, climbing under the covers and automatically going to lay on your side, face-to-face with Joel, who’d tucked one arm under his pillow and had one leg draped over yours to pull you closer.

“I missed you, too.”

“‘S that why you came back earlier?” He teased gently, still blinking slowly.

You reached a free hand up to run through his hair, relishing in the way his eyes seemed to flutter closed and the slight lean into your touch, “Yeah.” You whispered.

At your voice his eyes reopened, looking all the more exhausted than mere seconds before, and before you could even say anything he was yawning loudly and stretching his arms over his head before using the momentum to roll…right onto you.

Despite the clenched fist, you wrapped your arms across the broad expanse of his shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to his messed hair, smothering a delicate laugh when he groaned against your collarbone, “What did you do today that’s got you so tired at nine in the evening?” You asked softly, carding a hand through the back of his hair.

Any previous effort he’d made to keep some of his body weight off you was forgotten when he physically melted in your arms at the sensation, a muffled, incoherent mumble tumbling from his lips.

“Sorry?”

He lifted his head off your skin ever so slightly, his eyes still shut but looking in your general vicinity, and you couldn’t help it when your finger traced the bridge of his nose affectionately, once more causing his eyes to fly open at the sudden contact, jumping slightly at the sudden intrusion.

You welcomed the attention though, something he seemed to catch up on by the way the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

“Me and Frosty got dragged to an entire afternoon of Padel with Tys.” He sighed dramatically, “And I’m jet lagged, I think. Maybe. I don’t know, it’s like all the tiredness has just accumulated and I’ve been in bed since, like, six.”

“Poor you.”

He blinked, raising an eyebrow, “Well, excuse me–”

“No, I wasn’t being sarcastic.” You interrupted, trying not to laugh at the hurt expression on his face, “I don’t think.”

He rolled his eyes, flopping back into his previous position against you, and you felt a stab of guilt for what you were about to do, “Joel?” You poked him, once more rousing him from a much-needed sleep.

He groaned audibly, lifting his head from your shoulder, keeping his eyes glued shut to ward out the harsh lights emanating from the TV. Your conference was still playing in the background, and although the volume was on the lowest setting you knew he could still hear it.

“Two things,” you started, lifting the hand with the shirt up into his eyeline, and despite having them previously shut, the disturbance in light must have indicated that you were shoving something in his face, because he blinked his eyes open, staring at the black and white stripes, “This was waiting for me in my locker this morning – I got my new kit today and it seemed like someone on the team said something to the kit people, because…”

You trailed off, an awkward smile on your face. Your relationship with Joel was fairly new; not new in the sense that you’d only been dating a few months but new in the sense that this would be the first season you’d start with him as your boyfriend, all the way over in Philly. He’d also given you something similar back in September before the regular NHL season started, and as his eyes scanned over the material scrunched in your fist, there seemed to be some kind of recognition of his parallel moment with you because he pushed himself up and out of bed, taking the shirt from your hands gently.

He didn’t say much, just slowly unravelled the material. His jaw had dropped somewhere along the way, but his eyes didn’t falter as they roved across the expanse of the front of the jersey, taking in the new design, fingers tracing absently over the embroidered logos. Just as you were about to encourage him to turn it over, he did so, expelling a short breath as he took in your surname and number printed there.

“Is this your new home jersey?” He mumbled, turning to you with some kind of astonishment in his eyes.

You nodded, knowing he hadn’t quite gotten what it was that you’d intended to convey, “Yeah.”

Then, with a flicker of hope igniting on your chest, he gasped softly, “Am I allowed to see this now if it hasn’t been released to the fans?”

You raised a brow, blinking at him.

You loved him, you loved him so much, but sometimes he just made teasing him a little bit too easy. In this case you couldn’t tell if he was a little hesitant to make assumptions, or if he was just downright oblivious as to why you’d given him the jersey, but you smiled nonetheless.

“Yeah, the new kits are gonna be released tomorrow.” You continued, hoping that he’d at least catch on soon.

But he just nodded, “This is so cool.”

Right then.

“Glad you think so, because it’s yours.” You admitted, watching his face carefully.

He froze, the shirt getting a little more crumpled in his grip as he stared at you, lips parted in shock, “Mine?”

You just hummed, biting your lip to stop your grin from splitting your cheeks, and instead moved to show him the inside label of the shirt, not oblivious to the heat of his faze on the side of your face as you did so, “Look at the sizing, and also,” you lifted the bottom of the shirt up, flipping it inside out to show him the customised piece you’d requested to be added, “your name is printed on the inside of the shirt, right where your heart is. I mean, it’s not on mine, but this one’s customised for you–”

“I’m in love with you.”

You inhaled sharply, head snapping to look at him. His gaze was so intense you could almost feel it burning your skin, and despite the shock that had been painfully clear on his face mere seconds before, there wasn’t a single trace of it there now. In fact, he looked a little nervous, something that not only combatted his usual demeanour, but also the conviction with which he’d just stated those five words, yet there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Like he was relieved he’d thrown the words out there.

You’d thought about this moment with Joel before, hundreds of times. You expected you’d feel somewhat changed by the knowledge that the person you love also loves you too, like your DNA would alter and you would feel noticeably different, but instead you were crushed by a wave of calm.

It felt an awful lot like unadulterated happiness.

“I’m in love with you too.” You said, delighting in the way his grin seemed to grow and all nerves seemed to be extinguished at your reciprocation.

Gosh, he was just so infectious in everything he did.

It kind of drove you crazy, especially when you’d come down from a big loss and you’d FaceTime him in different timezones, and all you really wanted to do was rant, but the fucker was sitting pretty in your phone grinning straight at you and all previous anger just always seemed to dissipate instantly. It annoyed you that you couldn’t control that kind of thing, but the peace and the calm he allowed you to feel even after a mere conversation was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was divine.

“Cool.” He nodded, his grin not dimming a single bit, even as he tore his attention away from you to the shirt laid on the bed.

“Cool.” You echoed, shrugging.

You wanted to laugh, but you held it in for Joel’s exhausted sake.

“You said there were two things?” He turned back to you, grabbing the back of his PJ shirt with his hand and yanking it unceremoniously over his head to toss it to the end of the bed. You barely had a chance to get a word in for ogling him before he’d thrown your jersey on and pushed himself from the bed to stand in front of the mirror.

You let him check himself out in the shirt, which seemed to fit him spectacularly well, “You look so good. Like, insanely gorgeous.”

He flushed a little bit, but played it off by pretending to tense his guns in your direction, “I do?”

You nodded, breathing an amused laugh at his antics, “You always do, but even more so in that jersey.”

“Did you know,” he started, throwing himself back on the bed next to you, “that you’re the only person I’d ever wear a soccer shirt for?”

You pursed your lips, tilting your head, “I don’t think that’s the compliment you intended it to be.”

“I just mean that in the sense that – I mean, of course I like soccer – but I’d only ever wear your name on the back of a jersey, or have your team on the front.” He elaborated, throwing his arm across your shoulders to draw you closer, “But thank you for this, I love it.” He said into your hair.

You turned your head, catching his mouth with your own, and enjoying the moment, before pulling away, much to his dismay, “Would you ever wear a Canada jersey?”

He paused, pulling an unsure face, “Again, only if it was a soccer one with your name on it.”

“Likewise with yours, for future reference, by the way.” You rested a finger on his chin, using the leverage to turn his head towards the TV, “And the second thing: you’re probably going to want to watch the end of this conference.”

You felt his face contort from where your hand rested on his cheek, and without even thinking much about it, you leant forward to press a delicate kiss against his cheekbone, breathing a laugh when he scrunched up his face and manoeuvred you to his mouth once more, where you placed one, two, three kisses, before pulling away to answer his question, your cheeks warm.

“They ask about you.”

He stayed still, but you knew his eyes had flickered to the screen, right to where the you from hours ago was sitting at a long table, a hoodie and cap on, looking as awkward and out of place as you felt, in front of a row of cameras and lights, with question after question being fired at you.

“They do?” He whispered, turning his head to look at you to gauge your reaction.

“Yeah. Well, kind of. They start hinting at it with the last few questions.” You don’t meet his eyes, your own attention fixated on you on the screen, and just as you went to move in the conference, there was a slither of something that caught your eye, “No way. Fuck.” You mutter, feeling Joel pull away a little from where his cheek was resting against the side of your head comfortably.

“What’s wrong?”

You reach across him to find the remote, before pausing the TV and turning to look at him with an uncertain glance, “This hoodie, I always forget it, but the zipper’s a bit broken, and if I move too much, the zip falls down.” You pulled the zip about a quarter of the way down, seeing Joel’s eyes widen in realisation, before he turned to the TV, only to see the exact same image staring right at him.

“Oh.” His lips were parted in shock, but he didn’t look particularly angry or irritated by what he saw. In fact, there was a mischievous tilt to his mouth, and before long his shoulder began to shake with an effort not to laugh at the entire thing.

You, however, had a more pressing issue, “Is that okay with you?”

He stopped laughing, turning to face you, “Of course it is. Is it okay with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

You reached to press play once more, trying not to wince whenever the black Flyers shirt under your Gotham zip-up was made abundantly clear. No wonder they’d started asking you about Philly and no wonder that journalist had mentioned the cinema trip with Joel.

Of fucking course.

You were thrown out of your own head when Joel cackled loudly at the screen, climbing back under the covers.

“What?” You asked, following his motions, a smile on your face, mostly because he was also smiling.

“I had no clue we were spotted leaving ‘Anyone But You’.” He breathed, tucking his hand under his head as he leant back against the pillows, looking significantly more awake than he had earlier, “Is it cool if I wear this jersey for the walk-in for my next game?”

Your eyes slid over to him, taking in the uncertainty in his features; his brows were raised in an effort to tell you that he wouldn’t mind if you said no to him. He was asking if it was okay with you to confirm your relationship.

You felt your teeth catch your bottom lip, trying to stifle the blush sweeping across your cheeks and the smile threatening to break though, “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Awesome.” He grinned cheekily, a little smug at your failure to hide your true feelings from him, and you shook your head at the glint in his eye, “Love you, honey.”

You just blinked at him, lips pursed in a still-dire effort to not smile at him.

“Say it back.”

“Love you too, Joel.”

#joel farabee imagine #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee oneshot #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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noonblight · 1 year

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Nemona, Female Neurodivergence, and Good Representation

Spoilers for the plot of ScarVi ahead, but here’s my full analysis and breakdown of Nemona!

So, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Game Freak making an autistic female main character? You must be out of your mind. This is clearly projecting!’

I’d like to preface this gently by saying that this is obviously just my personal conclusion based on subtextual analysis, but also, I’d like to call attention to the fact that Japan isn’t like the west when it comes to neurodiverse representation, and there isn’t a lot of Japanese media that explicitly uses the word autism. It’s a little unrealistic to expect Game Freak to call it by name, especially considering they make games for children and topics such as neurodiversity are often viewed as a more ‘adult’ thing to discuss. You are free to disagree with me, but please be polite in the replies of this post, as I only wish to have a constructive conversation about a writing decision that has been made.

Anyway, on to the good stuff and I must apologise in advance for this post being long, but I wanted to be thorough!

I played through all of ScarVi and I’m actually very pleased with Nemona as a character. I feel like despite the game’s technical quality, there was a real effort made this time around to flesh out the named characters. Nemona is one of my favourite examples of this, because her arc isn’t solely about being autistic, but it’s clearly a large part of her character and affects her life in a lot of ways.

Nemona is a battle fanatic, and it’s very likely one of her special interests. It’s how she connects with other people such as the main character, and it’s something she devotes her entire being and effort to. She never says she does so in order to impress others, but rather because it’s something she heavily enjoys.

Right from the start, Nemona is a successful champion rank trainer and wants you to become a trainer who can rival her in skill, and feels like it would lead to a better friendship if you could do that. Nemona’s priorities always centre around battling, and doing as much of it as possible. She’s the one who asks Geeta for permission to bestow a Tera orb upon your player. She gives you tips about the battle courts at different gyms. She even raises a new team of Pokémon throughout the game just to have an excuse to battle you at your level and watch you improve.

Nemona even loves battling so much that she finds it a little strange when others aren’t as enthusiastic about battling as she is, below is a quote I found particularly interesting because it really does show that she can be socially oblivious at times when it comes to societal expectations about what is an appropriate place or time to have a Pokémon battle.

Accompanying this, multiple times throughout the game she exhibits impulsive or oblivious behaviour and asks you to have another battle with her straight after another battle you’ve just had, usually due to being excited. Sometimes other characters will need to remind her that your Pokémon require healing first, or that there are other things that need doing. She doesn’t always understand how things should be handled in a conventional manner, despite being an expert on the topic of battling! (Or, she gets too excited and can’t help herself.)

In post-game, there’s even a scene where she doesn’t seem to understand that another student is reluctant to battle her and makes an excuse to leave early because she’s so far from being a casual trainer that it intimidates him. This is, in my opinion, actually quite a sad scene. She genuinely continues to think that he will challenge her to a battle at a different time, not realising that her ‘unusual’ enthusiasm and skill has scared him away, and that he has no intention of returning. A situation I’m sure a lot of neurodiverse children would connect with because it so accurately depicts what it’s like when others don’t share your interests to the degree that you hoped they would. This scene also hints at Nemona’s trouble with reading the emotions and intentions of others.

Nemona’s final post-game scene (which please, I BEG of you to go watch, it’s so good) confirms this outright, and also gives one of the most relatable lines in media about what it’s like to be neurodivergent in any way, especially as somebody who is younger:

Something I like about Nemona is that despite being socially oblivious and pushy with her interests, she is still a very sympathetic and friendly character. Not only does she cheer you on throughout the game, but she doesn’t only do it for the sake of serving only her own interests! She’s genuinely caring about others around her too.

(Nemona, congratulating the player when they beat her at the end of her storyline after she goes full-out. She is thrilled that you beat her! I love this moment.)

Throughout the last chapter in the game, there’s a lot of great moments with Nemona that show how caring she is. I think the best moments however, are where she tries to understand and support a scared Miraidon, and where she tries to help Arven.

Initially, she is misunderstanding and expects that the second Miraidon will be friendly and that it will be a family reunion, but once she realises this is not the case, she immediately switches to trying to support your Miraidon in any way she can. Despite not understanding why Miraidon is so afraid of returning to the Crater and facing the other Miraidon, she can be observed multiple times attempting to encourage it during the final battle, and can be seen in the final cutscene of the game with her arm around it as the group walks back to the academy.

(Nemona, displaying an implied struggle with visually judging the emotions of others.)

Nemona is also the one who suggests after a very heavy story ending that everyone goes home, and that they take the scenic route back to town. She clearly doesn’t know what to say to Arven about what he’s just been through, but she attempts to make him feel a bit better regardless.

I think this makes for particularly good representation, because not only is she less feminine than previous female rivals with her more sporty style and interests (something very common with autistic women) it also shows depth. I’ve seen autistic characters before that fall into the stereotype of coming across as emotionally detached or cold, or far too over-reactive. But I think Nemona strikes a lovely balance of caring, emotional, and socially lacking.

Now, on to a smaller detail that I want to point out that I really like the inclusion of is that glove. I could talk about how Nemona displays memory issues at times or other smaller symptoms of autism, but I really want to talk about the glove. I made a post on this subject the moment Nemona’s design was revealed on the official website, but I like that the game content openly confirmed that Nemona has motor issues with her dominant hand.

(Nemona, needing to support her arm when about to throw a Pokéball, or when she is about to terastalise her Pokémon. The burst of energy from the tera orb must make things a bit more difficult for her. A lovely small detail in her battles.)

(Nemona, confirming that she has trouble with Pokéballs. Something her website entry also stated.)

Now I’ve saved this until last because this is, in my opinion, a smaller detail that they didn’t need to include to make Nemona read as neurodiverse, but I’m thrilled they did. Nemona is the only character who wears an arm brace, something I picked up on immediately in the trailers before the games released. No other trainers wear one for the terastalisation mechanic, unlike the Z-bands from Alola. And even though Pokémon battling is her bread and butter, she still struggles with certain aspects of it! Not only is this trouble with motor skills realistic, but it’s also a very accurate portrayal of motor dysfunction that a lot of neurodiverse people experience in their day to day lives.

To bring this all to a close, I think that even though it isn’t stated outright, I believe Nemona isn’t just representation of neurodiversity in women, but I think that she is also GREAT representation. She knows that she has problems, and tries her best regardless! She is kind, and caring, even though she has difficulties with reading the emotions of others and understanding social expectations. Her entire story may be about making friends with you through the medium of battling, but it’s also a story about how she’s struggled in the past to connect with others because of her love of that medium.

I truely do feel like she’s a lovely depiction to be in a children’s game, because she is a very positive depiction of something that a lot of kids go through, and in the end, she gets to be herself and she gets to be happy by being true to that self. She is never forced to change to make friends, and instead befriends you and the other characters simply by remaining as she is.

#I’m sorry this post is so long I actually could have analysed it scene by scene but I wanted to be nice to everyone #and have a semblence of conciseness!#pokemon 2022 #nemona #pokemon #pokemon scarvi #autism #pokemon scarlet and violet #miraidon #arven #analysis #character analysis #actually autistic #representation

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qsycomplainsalot · 1 year

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Re: Pervertin or how German Supersoldiers High on Crack travelled through Space and Time Buy my Book

I came across a post on the bird site yesterday calling into attention the use of pervitin, more or less adderall, among German troops during WW2. For context pervitin tablets were indeed issued to a lot of military personnel back in those days, specifically to aircraft pilot and sometimes tank crews on long missions. The drug as some of you may have heard keeps you awake and alert, along with a slew of side effects and a non negligible chance of addiction. In a discussion that brought to view just how willing people are to buy into Nazi propaganda in the year of our f*cking lord 2023, I pointed out a few things, uphill and having to indulge a lot of sidetracking. The use of pervitin has always been a little overstated ever since it came to the internet's attention, and I certainly would never call it a key component of the Blitzkrieg when, in the theaters of war where actual Blitzkrieg was employed, its success was more due to a combination of innovative doctrines, intact fuel supplies and a big fat helping of dumb luck. It was a bold move highly relying on capturing enemy fuel depots with fast, surprise deep strikes supported by a lot of armored and air forces, and it was only sustainable in neighboring, industrialized countries. One can argue if the USSR was industrialized at the time, but it stopped mattering when the Russians removed their entire industry from the West to beyond the Ural mountains. The Blitz stalled there.

"But if it didn't work, then why did the Nazis do it so often ?" Well the answer to that is twofold. The first, longer answer is that Nazis were a bunch of f*cking morons. Maybe not one by one, but as a government in charge of military procurement, they were one bunch of goofy motherf*ckers. Gaggle of functional shit-for-brains really. The Nazis gave every one of their tanks in the middle of the war two coats of anti-magnetic paint, which took almost a full day to cure, despite being the only major nation to use magnetic antitank mines. The Nazis kept using slave labor drawn from their prisoners of war, including in the manufacturing of their overengineered armored vehicles, resulting in poor quality products or, you know, a few rivets in your magnificent Tiger tank being replaced by a cigarette butt. The Nazis spent more than half the cost of a strategic bomber on every V2 rocket, not including design costs, for less than half the payload. It ended up killing more Germans and slave workers than British people in London, for literally no strategic or tactical result with 0.4 person killed per every rocket. The second, shorter answer is that pervitin was not used that much. A lot of the arguments trying to boost its importance come from a single book, "Blitzed" by Norman Ohler, now available in twenty languages apparently, where grand claims are made by a historian who was probably more than a little tired of seeing Buzzfeed rack in the big bucks instead of him.

End note; I was called out by a bird siter after the conversation that inspired this post for even beginning to fact-check this, which they considered, and I quote, "fangirling over nazi stats". I cannot stress this enough, learning the 'bad' parts of history does not make you bad person, it is how you interact with the resulting knowledge. Unlike what they implied, I had to look for those supporting evidence. I had a hunch that such a grabbing headline about super-drugs would be fake, I knew offhand that V2 rockets killed more blues than reds, but when I had to research all that jazz about Nazis and their superweapons it was to dunk on them, not make another History Channel documentary about a time-travelling bell. Stay critical, fascists can eat shit.

#history #ww2 #rambling #rant

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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pr0lis0k-posts · 7 months

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before 2022 people asked me stuff like “do you guys still all live in villages over there?/ do you have electricity over there?/ isn’t it just steppe and nothing else?/ most people there are farmers, right?/ wait, but isn’t it just part of russia?/ is it actually a real country?” (i really wish i was kidding with the last one)

i think sometimes the world forgets about how it ‘forgot’ of ukraine up until our suffering became relevant to the west, yet many people have strong opinions about my nation, my culture, my country, but all of their knowledge is based solely on what they have learned from watching western news media from the safety of their homes

and still for some reason ukrainians who have been actively living through this nightmare are not worthy of being listened to, not a credible enough source, too biased, too ignorant, are just not considering other perspectives, victims of propaganda, paid actors

#is this post coherent? does it make sense? idk

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mangoisms · 9 months

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circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter seven: just get me through the night | read chapter six

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.8k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

Steph believes you when you tell her you tripped and hurt your wrist.

After all, it’s not exactly a lie. That is what happened. It just… happened to occur while you were being advanced upon by, you know, the Batman.

You don’t tell her that last part. It’ll just worry her, you think, and she was worried enough about you that following day, when you told her about how your shift was cut short and how you hurt yourself. She fretted about you coming back to your shitty apartment in Coventry on your own but you made up a lie about catching a taxi.

(Technically, in a way, you suppose it could’ve been the truth but you don’t imagine Red would appreciate Redbird being referred to as a taxi service; though, at the same time, he drives like a literal maniac, so, it doesn’t fit.

And yes, he did name his car.

And yes, it is actually named Redbird.

He claims he gets around by motorcycle more these days but that obviously wasn’t conducive with the weather, so he used the car instead. A very high-tech, ultra-expensive car that you had to wonder how the hell he managed to get. He’s your age, after all. But you refrained from asking. It’s impolite, considering everything he did for you.)

After Steph’s shift, you both head to her mom’s house, where Crystal Brown, a nurse at West Mercy, generously takes a look at your wrist, as equally as concerned as her daughter when she hears the story.

“It’s just a sprain,” she says, frowning. “I can’t be entirely certain without an X-ray but I don’t think anything is broken or fractured. No need for a brace, either, but if it keeps bothering you…”

“I’ll get it checked out,” you agree easily. “Thank you, Ms. Brown.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Crystal.”

“You know how she is, Mom,” Steph sighs, folding her arms over the back of the chair you’re in, dropping her chin to your head.

“As hard-headed as you? Oh, I know.”

You smile bashfully as Steph snickers. Crystal rises from the table, stepping back to the stove, where she has dinner cooking. At their insistence, you agreed to spend the night.

Crystal has always been kind to you. Both this summer and the previous one did she tell you you were welcome to live with her and Steph here at their shared home, since neither of you could live in the dorms unless you took classes during the summer. Steph abstained from them to get more experience and you abstained because your financial aid wouldn’t cover it, which left you grappling with a three-month lease at the shitty student apartments near GU.

“No Tim?” Crystal asks, covering the pan, turning to look at you two.

Steph clicks her tongue, pulling away from you to flop into the chair beside yours; underneath the table, her ankle curls beneath yours, shin pressed to your calf.

“Busy as usual.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—” at the looks you get from both of them, you quickly backtrack “—I mean, I’ll tell him later… That new Mission Impossible movie came out a few weeks ago, so I was gonna see if we could watch it together…”

Crystal frowns. “But you don’t like those movies. Does Tim like those ridiculous movies?”

She probably wouldn’t be displeased if he did. Crystal isn’t overly fond of Tim. Steph says it’s because of their relationship when they were kids but sometimes, it feels far too deep for it to be just that.

Still, she’s civil to him and he rarely says no when Steph invites him (and you) for dinner. If anything, you think Crystal doesn’t mind the opportunity to make him squirm. Steph probably doesn’t mind it, either.

Steph stretches her arms above her head. “It would be on par with him but no. These two just like watching them and making fun of them. I’m good, though.”

“I’ll tell him, then. He’d notice it, anyway, since my mobility is still limited, but yeah…”

“Well, be careful,” she says, mouth pursed. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like she’s talking about your wrist but about something else.

Steph coughs. Crystal looks back to the stove.

“Well, hopefully you two will see him soon. From what I’ve heard, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say heavily. “A while.”

Crystal doesn’t pay more attention as she focuses on the sizzle of the chicken breast but Steph does, giving you a lingering look that makes you look away.

You… try not to give away too much to her.

You feel horrible enough to be in love with her ex-boyfriend; pining after him in her presence is just the icing on the World’s Worst Best Friend cake.

That’s why you avoided him, after realizing the culmination of your feelings in May.

To see if you could shake the feelings, if you could get rid of them.

Considering how hung up you are on him still, it hasn’t worked.

But you still want to see him again. It’s selfish, probably, to be okay with avoiding him for your own gain and then when he does it on purpose, you want to put an end to it.

But you know now it wasn’t okay.

You want to see Tim, want to hear his bad science puns, you just want him around.

Your feelings won’t go away for a while but avoiding him was the wrong decision. You just have to handle it on your own like an adult.

You would if you could see him more.

You hope you can. Even if it kills you to act normally, to be okay with being friends. By this point, you’ve started to realize having him in any capacity is more than enough.

It has to be.

newest mission impossible movie came out… i can’t believe they’ve managed five of them and this one is only part one of the fifth one. they need to put that series down already

anyway :D in that case, was wondering if we could see it together? on sunday? i’ll get the tix and you get the snacks? we can get ice cream after and talk shit about it

i can’t, sorry! family dinner on sunday, then some other stuff before then and on sat too. see it and let me know about it, alright? :)

You cry when the end credits start rolling.

Not because the movie is good or moving or even so bad that it makes you cry, you’re just…

So tired.

Tired of him never having time for you, for you and Steph.

One part of you wants to give up. What’s the point, right?

His continued lack of time means you can’t even apologize to him, can’t even ask if your initial avoidance was what led to his in the first place.

Mostly because it feels like it doesn’t even matter at this point.

Maybe this is what you deserve and there should be nothing else to say on the matter.

But that hurts even more.

You sit far at the back—shitty seats, he would say—but it gives you the privacy to shed a few tears.

You leave only when the end credits are almost done rolling and the theater is empty. You don’t care about the looks people give you, coming out red-eyed and sniffling from the Mission Impossible movie. You just want to go back to your apartment and hide away for the rest of the summer.

You emerge from the cinema; it’s only eight, so the sun is still out, warming you up from the chilly theater. Sighing, you start for the nearest station to take the subway back to Coventry.

You only get a couple blocks before your eyes catch the storefront of an ice cream parlor. Wallowing deep in self-pity by now, you easily take the detour. The patio in front of it is busy with people and through the large glass window, you see the line inside is long, too. But since you have nothing else to do, you head for it, anyway.

You’re halfway across the patio when you see it.

Through the window, in line for ice cream, is Tim.

Your eyes found him immediately, without intention or purpose. Poetic, almost, were it not for the fact of seeing him here breaks your heart.

Here, not just by himself but with friends. Friends you’ve never met but know of from pictures at his place.

You try to rationalize it initially, still standing there in the middle of the patio, staring into the parlor. Maybe the dinner was canceled. Maybe they dragged him out.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But then it makes you feel second best. Second choice. That he didn’t think of you when his schedule freed up.

That’s presumptuous, though, right? What gives you priority? Nothing, especially after what you pulled before.

But the ache in your chest hardly allows for that much introspection or self-awareness.

Mostly… Mostly, you’re just hurt.

Seeing him now, separated from you by thin glass, the yawning monster inside you that longs desperately for him is unleashed, because he is so close but he’s not here with you, for you. And that hurts. A physical thing, your chest tight, throat thick with growing emotion.

But then, he sees you.

His head turns and you go rigid as your eyes meet his, which widen as he recognizes you.

It’s been long, so terribly long, since you’ve seen him. See the soft blue of his eyes, this lovely shade, like cornflowers.

It makes this so much worse because you don’t think anything will change, even with this, so it’s like a taunt to see him, knowing this might be the last for a while. A long while.

Another moment between you two, the surprise on his face morphing into something else and you look away before you can see what it is, turning on your heel.

You have to get out of here.

The subway is across the street but the light just turned green. Too long.

The hiss of hydraulics snatches your attention. A bus, several feet away. One last person climbing on. You take off for it, scrambling for your wallet, ignoring how the rough motions make your wrist throb in protest.

You think you hear your name. You hope you don’t.

You barely wedge yourself in just as the doors close.

The bus driver eyes you with thinly-veiled suspicion but you pay the fare and take a seat at the far back, away from the windows.

You don’t even know where this bus is going.

You don’t care.

You just have to get away.

You bury your face in your hands, your tears flowing again as the bus pulls away from the curb.

The worst part about it, you think, is that he doesn’t reach out to you.

Neither does Steph, but you reason expecting that is irrational. Why would he talk to her? Why would he tell her what happened?

You can’t do it, either. It’s for the best, maybe, that you don’t say anything about it at all.

Instead, as soon as you get back into your apartment, you collapse onto your threadbare couch and take a nap. Only dragging yourself off it when you have to get up and get ready for your shift, accompanied with the headache throbbing in the center of your forehead.

You trade off with the evening shift and things are quiet for the most part. To distract yourself (mostly to stop yourself from bursting into tears if you think too hard about what happened), you take on your night shift tasks with renewed vigor. Cleaning the floors, the machines, adjusting displays, doing inventory.

Your wrist protests throughout it but you ignore it.

Steph would scold you for it.

So would Tim.

You pause in the middle of cleaning the counter near the Slurpee machine. Your wrist throbs at your side.

The sharp gust of wind and the sound of your name surprises you.

Shocks you, really, since you’re still a bit on edge from Batman’s visit last week and you yelp, turning around, throwing the wet cloth on instinct.

Your visitor dodges it easily. It lands on the floor with a wet splat.

“Flash? What are you—what—?”

He tilts his head, grass-green eyes narrowing slightly, mouth pursing, and you get the unmistakable feeling of being scrutinized very closely.

“What are you doing here, Flash?” you question.

He keeps making that face. “I wanted to see you.”

That surprises you. You blink.

“Batman won’t like that.”

“Don’t care. I’m not here to cause trouble. Just here to see you. He can’t say anything.”

You don’t think that’ll stop him but you don’t say anything. Flash probably knows. He just doesn’t care. He’ll complain about it sometimes, go to lengths to avoid it, but other times, he just—doesn’t care.

Flash continues to look at you. Scrutinizing you.

You don’t bother trying to stop him from doing it. You’re too tired and the way your eyes are still red and swollen is telling, as well as the circles under your eyes.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Flash.”

His frown deepens and one of his hands comes to your shoulders.

“Seriously… are you okay, kid?”

For some reason, that does it.

The smallest of splinters to your resolve first, your breath hitching, then it breaks entirely, emotion swelling inside you with tidal wave force, your vision blurring with tears.

Flash reels back in surprise at first, then softens, muttering, “Aw, kid,” and pulling you into a hug.

It doesn’t feel perfunctory. Like he is doing this out of obligation at seeing you cry, like this is just another one of his duties as a superhero. It feels genuine, the way he holds you tightly against his chest, like you’re a child being comforted.

That just makes you cry harder.

It takes a while for you to calm down. Then you get embarrassed, sniffling out an apology.

He hands you a napkin, then pokes you affectionately on the forehead.

“Geez, what do you take me for? I don’t mind. Besides, worse bodily fluids have ended up on me. Way worse. This is nothing.”

You laugh wetly.

He squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, though. Seems like you’ve got some stuff to talk about. What’s going on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears briefly takes hold of you. You take a deep breath, working through it, blowing your nose.

Flash grabs two Slurpees, one cherry and one blue raspberry, and hops up on the counter, patting the spot beside him. You manage to wriggle up using just your right hand, your left still throbbing.

With plenty of breaks in between to cry a little bit more, you tell him everything that has gone on for the past month. Including the stuff with Red and the others, then your impromptu visit from Batman last week.

“That how you hurt your wrist?” he asks, thoroughly displeased as he reaches for it with gentle fingers. It’s more swollen than before, irritated from you ignoring your body’s warnings, warm to the touch.

“It wasn’t him,” you mumble. “Just me. I tripped and fell.”

He purses his lips but nods for you to continue, which you do, telling him about everything that happened today.

“It just sucks,” you whisper. “I mean, what I’m doing to Steph, first of all, by feeling like that and then with the stuff going on with Tim. I know I shouldn’t have avoided him earlier because of my own feelings and maybe this is what I deserve for it but…”

He shakes his head, seemingly bothered by all of this. Really bothered. You expected some, along with the concern, but all of that seems tripled for a reason you do not know.

He says your name, solemn. “You don’t deserve any of that. Sure, it was stupid but… you still don’t deserve that.”

“I can’t change it,” you sigh, setting your cup down. Your fingers are numb from the cold of it. “I just… I dunno. Had to get it out, I guess, so thanks. Why did you really come here, though?”

He sips his Slurpee. “I really came here for you. I just had this feeling… I don’t know. But it paid off, didn’t it?”

“True,” you admit.

“You want me to talk some sense into this kid?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t know,” he muses, his thoughtful tone bellying the tension that seems to permanently reside in his body now; he’s really annoyed by it. You’re touched, if not a bit confused at the depth of his feelings. “I think I should. Might be good.”

“It’s not totally Tim’s fault—”

“His reaction is his own entirely. You shouldn’t have done what you did but anyone with any amount of common sense would talk to you about it instead of turning around and avoiding you, too. It’s dumb. Don’t let him off the hook.”

“Don’t let me off the hook.”

“I’m not. But from where I’m standing, his offenses greatly outweigh yours, especially with what seemed to happen today and… everything else.”

“Flash…”

“I’m just saying. I am, admittedly, a bit biased but… still. I’m not wrong, am I?”

You sigh. “I guess not.”

“Exactly. And for that stuff with your other friend… she hasn’t said anything about it, has she? I mean, I told you what it’s like for me and Pipes. We don’t feel like that for each other anymore. If I had some friend who turned out to like him, I wouldn’t care. So, what makes you think Stephanie does?”

You throw up your hands. “Most people would! Flash, not everyone takes that approach to their exes.”

“True,” he concedes. “But they’re clearly still friends and just friends.”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s okay with that. That doesn’t mean it’s okay. I shouldn’t… it never should have happened.”

Flash sighs, watching you for a minute. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”

You laugh humorlessly. “You’re just now getting that?”

“I knew before but this is… a mess of epic proportions. Seriously…” he mutters the last part, shaking his head slightly.

Before you can respond, the door opens. You can’t see it, the aisle hiding it, but Flash can; since he remains calm, you assume it isn’t anyone bad.

Then you hear your name, from a very familiar voice and—

“Steph?”

She appears around the aisle, her jean shorts and lilac purple t-shirt wrinkled and in a state of disarray, her hair equally as messy, frizzed from the humidity outside; a light sheen of sweat shines on her face. It’s like she rushed all the way over here.

You hop down from the counter, concerned. “Steph, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? What happened?”

She lifts a hand, cobalt blue eyes on Flash, saying, distractedly, “No, it’s… it’s alright, nothing’s wrong, I just… had to talk to you… Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Flash says breezily, hoping from the counter. “You can talk to her. I was just visiting.”

“Wait—” you don’t want him to leave quite yet but you don’t know how to say that.

“I’ll hang around,” he assures you, tossing your empty Slurpee cups in your next blink; the only indication he did anything is the way they disappear and the breeze that hits you and Steph.

“Batman—”

“Don’t care. If anything, I might like to talk to him.”

“Flash,” you say, nervous, not willing to reveal what happened to Steph but also trying to tell him to very much not do that.

“I’m still thinking about it,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “But I’ll be around. I’ll come back in a few.”

He lifts a hand, then he is gone, the breeze following him much stronger this time.

“I guess you two really are friends,” Steph says when it calms, sending you a small smile, making you relax.

“Yeah…” Though friends didn’t quite cut it for you. Silly, probably, considering you don’t even know who he is under the cowl, but you can’t deny it to yourself. It’s hard to quantify exactly what he means to you—a friend, a big brother, some kind of weird uncle. If anything, it feels like an odd amalgamation of all those things. You wonder if that’s how he feels, too. You won’t ask. You can only handle so much disappointment in one night.

“I’m sorry to come by so suddenly,” she says next, her words oddly formal in a way that puts you on edge. “But I just had to talk to you.”

“About…?”

“About Tim.”

You go stiff. You try your best to school your expression, to not give anything away. After all, concerning him, it could be anything. What happened today, maybe. What’s been happening.

Or your feelings.

You really hope it’s not that.

You’ve only just started to realize you might be losing Tim. You can’t lose her.

You can’t.

“What about him?”

She says your name. Everything inside you tightens.

“I know. I know how you feel about him—”

Your throat aches when you swallow. Everything seems to come bursting out of you in the next second.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Steph, I didn’t mean—I didn’t want—I wouldn’t do anything—” you take a step back, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest.

Her eyes widen and she steps forward, quickly closing the space between you, her hands coming to cradle your face.

“No, no, no, it’s okay, it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not, I never should’ve—god, I’m so sorry, Steph—” your vision blurs with tears.

She says your name again, keeping you in her grasp.

“I’ve known for a long time,” she quickly says. “Okay? I knew, but it’s okay. I was never mad at you, never, it’s okay, I promise.”

“But—but—”

She shushes you gently. “It’s okay. Deep breaths, alright?”

A couple tears trace down your cheeks. She wipes them away, a small smile forming on her lips—for you, entirely for you, the warmth there reflected in her eyes.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asks, rubbing her thumb over your cheek. “It’s really easy to fall in love with Tim Drake. And this isn’t my roundabout way of telling you I have feelings for him. Those are long gone. I love him and he’ll always be my first love but that time has passed—for the both of us. But for you guys?”

“Stephie…”

“I don’t care that you have feelings for him. I really truly don’t. I just want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy. I think you two can do that for each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I think… you’re good for him. He’s good for you. That’s all there is to it, okay? If you really want my blessing, you have it, but… it doesn’t matter to me that you like him. And I’ve known for a while but I just… I assumed you knew I was okay with it. Like it was the thing that was there but we never talked about. Stupid, I know. But… I just need you to know that. Alright?”

She hugs you. You bury your face in her shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly, unable to stop your tears from flowing.

“I’m not just saying this to try and be the bigger person, either,” she murmurs. “Go for it. It’s been long enough.”

“I don’t know…”

“Why?”

“I mean, he doesn’t… and today…”

Steph pulls away, frowning now. “He likes you, too.”

“No—”

“He does. I know.”

“Then why has he…” You can’t keep going, biting your lip.

“‘Cause he’s an idiot,” she mutters. “In more ways than one. But… I’m going to fix it, okay?”

“No, no, don’t—”

“It’s okay. There’s… there’s other stuff going on right now and we need to take care of that first, then you can talk about your feelings. But I’m going to fix it, okay? I’m going to try.”

“You don’t have to, this is our mess, my mess, I was the one who started avoiding him in May after finally realizing my feelings and then he…” you trail off, sniffling.

“There’s something else,” she says cryptically. “That’s… just take my word for it. But I’m going to fix it. He’s been an idiot long enough and I’m not going to keep tolerating it, not if he’s going to keep hurting you.”

You shake your head, confused. Is she talking about today? Did he tell her? You have no idea…

“He only did it because I did.”

“No, no, it’s… it’s complicated, okay?”

You snort despite yourself. “You think?”

She smiles finally. “I know. It’s… a lot. But don’t worry. I’m going to get him to see the light. Not literally, though I wouldn’t mind roughing him up a bit just for how idiotically he’s been acting but… another time.”

You’re still confused. Terribly, terribly confused. But Steph is so impassioned, so sure, you let it go.

“Let me help,” you say. “I should be the one doing this but—but let me help. I need to. It’s my mess, too.”

“It’s all of us,” she sighs. “And right now, I’m in a unique position. So… let me, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you more later, but hopefully, I can get something together soon. Just sit tight, alright?”

“You do too much for me,” you whisper.

“I’m doing what I should be doing,” she says, looking… guilty almost before the look is gone. “This has gone on long enough.”

She leans forward to kiss your forehead. “But it’s gonna be okay. We’ll make it better.”

You just nod, going along with it for now.

You scrape yourself together after a few minutes, wiping your tears away and blowing your nose. Steph hangs around long enough for Flash to return, at which point she bids you a regretful goodbye, telling you she’ll talk to you tomorrow. You worry about her getting home but she brought her car, or so she tells you, and Flash generously sees her out.

After a couple minutes, he returns.

“So?” he asks expectantly.

“You were right,” you mutter. “She’s fine with it. I’m not entirely sure why she had to rush out to tell me or what she’s planning to fix but… I don’t think I can stop her.”

“No, I don’t think so, either,” he agrees lightly. “I don’t think you should, either. It’s probably important.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “I still don’t think she should be doing it but…”

“There might be more pieces in play than you think.”

You send him a look. “I got enough cryptic talk from her. I don’t want any more from you.”

He holds up his hands, smiling. “No more cryptic talk. Got it. I do, however, come bearing gifts.”

“Where on earth—?”

“Well, I already had them when I came here. I wanted to check on you and give you this stuff, but we got interrupted,” he says. “Give me a second.”

You give him a second.

He leaves and comes back in that time. You raise an eyebrow.

“Check it out,” he says, holding out a box.

You take it from him. It’s a small thing, easily held in your hand. You pull off the top.

And promptly blink as the shiny display of a phone greets you.

“Flash, what—”

He can’t wait for you to finish asking your question, apparently too eager to tell you.

“It’s a phone, for you. But it’s programmed with my contact info, that way you can talk to me, and you can move all the stuff on your old phone over, too. It really is just a regular phone. Well, it does have League-level encryptions on it, but you know.”

“Flash… this is too much.”

“Not really,” he says. “I couldn’t give you that info without making sure your phone was secure and it would’ve been a lot more work to get yours secured, too. Besides, let’s be real, your phone has seen much better days. I think it deserves to finally be able to rest.”

“Jerk,” you laugh.

He shrugs. “Not wrong, though. Anyway, it’s not just for emergencies. You can talk to me. Text me. You know.”

“Flash,” you say, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, pressing a hand to your face.

He looks like he wants to say something else but stops himself last minute and just gives you a small smile.

“Come on. Let’s set it up.”

You agree, not wanting to continue to refuse since it would be rude and… you do want to have a way to talk to him. Not just for emergencies but other stuff, too. This stuff.

So much is still up in the air.

But you can focus on the here and now, with Flash here to ease your burdens.

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