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levmada · 2 years

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ftm!Levi headcanons [Erurihan]

this is part 2/3! read part 1 here.

i go over other facets of the trans experience in this one, notably periods and stupid assholes being ignorant, aka transphobia (mixed in with erurihan, obvi).

this part picks up on year 846 thru 848 (minimal spoilers)

finally, holy shit this got to another 3k before i had even more i wanted to say. the next part will be the last, promise.

//detailed talk of periods, transphobic behavior (pronoun misuse), detailed talk of female-to-male gender dysphoria

year 3 cont’d (846)

asides on periods (slightly scientifical)

disclaimer: There isn’t much of a bottom line on how periods impact any one person (e.g., how painful they are, how heavy they are, timeframes from start to end, even consistent cycles), and the degree to which menstruation bothers transmasc afab people differs, because they are all individuals. So, I’ll use personal experience to base ideas off of while taking into consideration Levi’s character.

Back in the stomping grounds of Levi’s youth, there sure as shit wasn’t a 5-star banquet waiting at home—ever. Even before the Fall, the desolate and the destitute of the Underground suffered from food shortages, rampant crime, and so on. The No Regrets manga states that the whole premise of the Underground was to build a haven safe from Titans for the population if the Walls ever fell; sure worked out real well, huh.

Anyway, not a lot of food. And in case you didn’t know, not eating enough=inconsistent, light cycles, or a lack of menstruation entirely if things do in fact get that bad, to the point of starving. Kuchel most definitely didn’t live long enough to help teach Levi about anything having to do with it, and as funny as it is to imagine Kenny taking a (literal?) stab at it, there isn’t much canon info on his and Levi’s relationship, so whether Kenny would put in that kind of effort and whether Levi would bring it up in the first place is a bit of a moot point.

In any case: Levi would think he was dying, actually. Below his navel, it feels like his insides are being ripped to shreds, and he’s fucking bleeding—out of (what he would think) is the place he normally pisses from. Levi would go about it like an internal wound, probably, and not tell a soul. Let’s say he’s 13 or 14 to take into account high stress and lack of nutrition Underground. (If Levi was in his late teens/very early 20s when he met Farlan and Isabel, timelines would line up. I say that because he would have a better handle on the monthly bleeding by that time, Isabel being a factor and all.)

The first times: An internal wound that wrenches Levi’s guts and at times makes it so painful to move that when it starts he's usually forced to take refuge in a squat, a tiny hideout or even a shelter if he must. Levi would scrounge for makeshift bandages, and use any clean ones he finds because the blood ruins all his damn clothes—fucking nasty. Levi doesn’t tell Kenny at first, since he’s not around much at this point (~age 13), and he’d probably scoff at him anyway and remind Levi that he needs to learn to survive independently.

"If y’aren’t dyin’, ya shouldn’t be cryin’, yeah?"

As we know, Kenny took Levi in because he wasn’t such a piece of shit as to leave him to die, but he’s no parent, either. Kuchel had to do with this kindness (most likely). Kenny was her brother, but a man who slits throats for a living doesn’t make a good dad, either. In his own perspective, he could never be a father figure, not even if he tried.

Okay enough about Kenny sorry

Well, the bleeding and the pain stops eventually—obviously. I don’t think Levi would seek out advice from a physician (if there are any reputable ones Underground), and a trip Aboveground is too expensive to warrant it. Levi would probably just move on with himself and call it luck that whatever happened to him, stopped. Until the next month, that is.

Farlan would be the one to educate Levi I think 😭 seeing how I base events off the No Regrets manga rather than the OVA. Levi met Farlan first, and Isabel sometime later, when she was 11-13. He’d find Levi’s bloodstained undergarments/trousers while taking over for laundry (early on into their partnership I imagine), only for his stomach to drop at the sight of old blood soaked into the fabric.

“Tell me why the hell you were injured, n' didn’t tell me?”

Levi would pause from cleaning his knife, and stare at him. “I’m not. It just happens. F'you can’t handle a little blood, don’t do my fuckin' laundry.”

Levi was probably with the understanding that this only happened to him specifically, until Farlan informed him otherwise (not that he knew much more than Levi did).

The bleeding after that is just one of those sickening things about himself that Levi detests. It’s filthy and the whole 5-7 day process has a tendency to weaken or even leave him bedridden, but there’s nothing to be done for it—not while living Underground. Levi had a tendency for completely isolating himself during cycles, unwilling to face Farlan or even Isabel; which left the responsibility of bookkeeping and jobs in general up to the former.

present day

Hange would educate the fuck out of Levi on this subject, whether he liked it or not. I fully believe Levi could get away with hiding his cycles for so long, despite the fact that eating better meant more consistent/heavier periods. If he planned ahead, requesting time off for the worst days and sticking to paperwork on the better ones, then it worked out. That was until Levi and Erwin took to sharing the same living space.

Once it starts, there’s a real threat to the bedsheets Levi must take into account, and the supply of bandages going missing. But it doesn’t matter anyway because not even 12 hours in, and every time Levi moves to stand or does anything that rattles his core in some way, he’s biting back a wince.

He can’t avoid the one he lives with though, and it just so happens that Erwin is a perceptive genius that is trained acutely to Levi’s body language and all his little mannerisms. And for that matter, Hange is far too nosy not to investigate when Levi doesn’t turn up for training, a meeting, or when said meeting is cancelled altogether after Erwin starts asking questions.

“Levi?”

Levi can feel Erwin’s gaze scrutinizing him from behind his desk. All he’s doing is kneeling down to grab some files, but it feels like his insides are being eviscerated. He doesn’t indulge him.

Unswayed by Levi’s silence, Erwin stands. “I’m not blind, you know. Where are you injured?”

Levi ignores him again, grabs the damn paperwork and smacks it against Erwin’s chest when he’s gotten close. He has enough pride left to do that, and—with the emotional turmoil Levi goes through when he’s bleeding—it upsets him far more than usual to notice the height difference between them. Levi tells Erwin to drop it, that he’s fine, but it sounds grueling for him just to get the words out.

Erwin regards Levi—who at this point is clearly pained and upset, asks, “Why are you lying to me?”—before it finally clicks that Erwin’s intellect doesn’t stretch so far as to remember Levi’s birthsex. The latter presents himself so damn well that it slipped his mind, and only recently did Levi and Erwin begin sharing a living space. All this time, when it’s that time of the month, Levi has hid it from Hange and Erwin both without any problems.

I imagine around this time that Hange raps at the door (but doesn’t bother to wait before they enter) and bursts inside. Long have they been on a quest to find these two, because not a soul in HQ has seen the Captain or Commander all day.

Similar to the matter regarding chest-binding, Hange and Erwin are hard-pressed to garner a little information from Levi; it wasn't easy back then. But, with the passing of so much time, growing close to each other too, it’s easier. Just as well, the idea of menstruation requires much less explanation.

Erwin is supportive, but (I doubt) as knowledgeable as Hange concerning how it can be helped. There are herbal remedies to ease the pain, and proper products to stave off the bleeding. Cue Hange giving Erwin a crash course on the entire fucking science of the hormones and physiology of periods lmao.

coping

Levi is naturally stunned by all the crutches and new information, but as for the long winded science of it, there’s no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t wanna hear it. It’s a frightening idea to him too—being cared for and treated tenderly during these times by Hange and Erwin, more than any other.

Levi wouldn’t want Hange to drop their research (despite how much he’s disgusted by it), he wouldn’t want Erwin to put commanding aside. In short, Levi doesn’t feel important enough to be made a priority at all. He’s definitely not a stranger to keeping himself alive all alone after all, but Erwin is downright insulted by the insinuation that Levi’s wellbeing doesn’t matter all that much.

Cue 2-3 days of mandatory medical leave per month for Levi, depending on whether the pain’s so grueling that it leaves him bedridden or not. It’s not as if Erwin and Hange can drop absolutely everything in equal measure to care for Levi (not that he’d want that anyway), but they sure as hell give him priority, alright?

Erwin will take some light reading or mission reports to the bedroom, and have Levi lay between his legs so the former can both work a little and massage Levi’s cramps away. As for cravings, and his much more abrasive moods during these times, I feel like Erwin is the most patient man in the world lmao. He’s not a natural caretaker, but he certainly knows Levi well enough that he can give him what he needs without him needing to say a word.

Hange is similar in this way (in canon, Hange is known for ‘translating’ Levi’s words seeing how he’s not the best at getting his point across), and they’re somehow super affectionate and in tune with Levi’s feelings??

“It’s ‘cause of all the lab-rats you keep,” Levi would mutter, but relax at Hange’s presence at his back, holding him close and pressing a pack of heated linen to his belly.

“Sure, dear.”

They’d kiss his temple, Erwin perched on the edge of the bed at Levi’s other side, maybe petting his hair while doing something else.

Really, Hange has personal experience. They know what it’s like besides just knowing all there is to know about it.

Levi can’t go on pretending like he hates every second that they’re there, either. He’s secretly incredibly thankful, and gets so fucking soft at them when his emotions are running high. I think this translates as small acts of service depending on his pain—for instance making small meals, or flitting Hange’s glasses back up their nose if Levi notices them straying. Also, much more sincerely returning physical affection, because always and without fail, Levi struggles to convey his feelings through words alone.

As an afterthought, I think Levi would almost exclusively wear Erwin’s button-downs and sweaters during cycles (both due to his chest swelling, feeling tender, and they’re comforting to him<3); he’d also keep a towel draped across his side of the bed at all times—regardless of whether it’s during those first few days or not—until Levi is sure it’s over.

(as a side note, Hange is equally well-taken care of during their own cycles, as light as they may be. More on that, in the next part.)

transphobia

It’s comforting to imagine—in wake of aot being a fantastical fictional universe—that real-life issues such as homophobia and discrimination don’t exist, but then again this would be a massive contradiction to some of the heaviest themes of the story. Even with humanity being proverbially trapped in a cage, people are bound to hold resentments against each other for the most unjustifiable of non-reasons.

No one’s gonna dare say a thing to Levi’s face, of course. Despite his size, his standoffish, no-nonsense personality is widely infamous all throughout the military, let alone the Survey Corps. Though, certain exceptions are bound to slip through the cracks. New recruits that are way in over their heads with an ego the size of a fucking Titan, usually, or the occasional tonedeaf politician/noble.

The way Levi deals with this when it’s said to his face or within earshot (and given it’s no one other than a member of the Survey Corps)—is a scathing insult, or a threat, naturally. And if they go on, Levi will gladly give the bigot an ass-beating. It’s that simple.

“Tell me what you just told him to my face, you piece of shit. I dare you.”

However, if it isn’t a situation like that, but rather a pompous asshole the Survey Corps or Erwin’s reputation could get in hot water over, the best Levi can do is glare with all the vitriol he’s got and bear it.

Lastly, underhanded talk and gossip happens all the time. If Erwin or Hange catch wind of anything—especially Erwin—they’re good for backhanded compliments and undermining the person’s intelligence with sly comments and underhanded insults. Erwin will even go further than that in the name of the kind of man Levi is (truly, there is miles more to him than his gender): he’ll manipulate the situation into making the bigot look like a fool (if it’s a member of the brass or a noble) and if it’s a member of the military like an MP, Erwin is conniving enough to report them to their superior. Given the small nature of the crime, he’ll usually lie, but who’s really gonna disbelieve Commander Erwin, let alone take the word of a footsoldier over his own?

year 4-5 (847–848)

gender dysphoria

By this point, Levi has been with the Scouts a long time, but the effects of gender dysphoria have remained a dark, oppressive constant through almost his entire life. The difference between a dark, decrepit life in the Underground and Aboveground is the full support of those Levi is closest to, besides chest-binding, and the proper changes to the clothes he wears; pronouns, too.

The point is: Things will never be perfect, not 100% right. There are good days and bad ones, not that Levi is particularly inclined to ever let the bad ones even show.

Some days, he can hardly go out in public without three layers of clothes and a permanent glare set on his face—if he could, and regardless of how small it is, he’d tear his fucking chest off because it isn’t right. It doesn’t feel right, and it never has, but the best he can do is bind, push through it all, and cope.

At the worst of times, even his sharp facial structure or eyelashes is enough to disrupt Levi’s entire mood. He’ll push through with grooming himself in the mornings anyway (of course), but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hating his body the entire time, either.

transphobia (again) / the worst parts

The most destructive trigger for Levi’s gender dysphoria is the showy political events he’s dragged to by Erwin every month or so, whether to gain favor with the brass, or to attain funding for the Scouts. It’s not as if Levi is forced to go exactly—Erwin on many occasions has offered to go alone or bring Miche/Hange instead—but Levi knows his own reputation with the public, and in turn, how advantageous it is to go along. All the shiny, illustrious bullshit never fails to make Levi’s skin crawl, so the best thing to do is stick by Erwin’s side and keep his mouth shut; the latter especially, seeing how Levi’s buttons are easily pressed at these things, and his smartass attitude isn’t helpful. In fact, no matter what Levi says, his words are often taken the wrong way, even if he does mean well.

This has earned snide remarks of being called ‘the Commander’s dog’ more than once. ‘Mutt’, too, seeing how no one in the inner Walls could ever quite let go of the ‘rags-to-riches’ story everyone paints of Levi: “Incredible, Commander Erwin. How do you take an Underground street-rat and integrate her into society? Much less make her your most important soldier?’

Remarks like this make Levi see red—if he’s holding a glass at the time, it’s prone to cracking in his hand, but in any case he can rarely go on without excusing himself and storming off somewhere to wrangle his temper. It’s just as bad for Erwin, who can’t even get away with a scathing reply or insulting the offender (depending on how wealthy they are) without devastating ramifications.

Transphobic remarks are worse, though usually, to the outside observer Levi’s ‘condition’ is reduced to him just being ‘different’ or ‘very strange’—ignorant people don’t even have the means to be all that insulting, given they’re ignorant enough.

Never has Levi felt smaller however than when he’s referred to as a woman again. Nobles and politicians can utter snide remarks all day, but the one thing no one can refute is the fact that Levi is female. Regardless of how he hides his hips and his face and hell, his entire body, as much as he tries to mask his appearance and change a purely unchangeable facet of himself, they can never be wrong about that fact.

Levi never, ever wears a dress to those soirees or anything even remotely showy. If he’s able, he’ll don his uniform and cape for reputation purposes. A majority of the time, Levi is as preened up as Erwin: a pressed three-piece suit and bowtie, elegant dress shoes, and so on. As damn frustrating as it is, sometimes Levi will get to feeling like he needs to claw his skin off, burn away and emerge from the ashes a brand new man, anyway.

Levi won’t beg for support, not even when he can’t catch his breath, everything feels wrong, and he can’t bear even being seen by Erwin and Hange, of all people. As Levi has done for the vast majority of his life, he’d rather pretend nothing is wrong and suffer alone.

Hange especially won’t be having that, naturally. Once they get word and figure out Levi is having a hard time, they’ll even speak through a damn door to reassure him; if he really does need to be alone, they’ll go. But if he says nothing and maybe even lets them in eventually, they’ll happily wrap Levi in a fleecy blanket, and keep him company (most times in amicable silence). Erwin is the same in this way, though he isn’t afraid of completely contradicting Levi’s disordered feelings with a level-head, and more often than not, he will allow Erwin to pull him into his arms. This in spite of how much Levi weakly objects and tries his utmost to act tough.

“Who you are is what you make of yourself, and your actions. It’s no concern of them then, whether you’re a man or a woman.” Erwin gently buries his hand in Levi’s thick locks of hair. “Your reputation should speak for itself.”

“I know that.”

Levi harshly bites down on his lip and covers his chest. Protectively, Erwin’s hold grows a little more snug, as if he’s swaddling Levi with his arms.

Erwin makes his voice hush, “You’re not broken, my love.”

“...I know.”

previous part | main masterlist | erurihan masterlist | last part

#aot #attack on titan #snk #trans levi #trans character written by trans writer #g.scribe #shingeki no kyojin #erurihan #eruri #levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #erwin smith #erwin x levi x hange #canon #transgender character #ftm levi ackerman

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tryingmydarndest · 3 years

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Thank You (Luka Couffaine x Reader)

Summary (Part 1/probably 3): The author goes on a bit of a tangent about how Y/N goes on a bit of a tangent about Viperion. Who may just have a little, big ol' crush on them?

Tags: -not enough actual relationship -fluff -but like, a weird sprinkling of angst that I didn't plan on right at the end???

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Inspired by this fic by @seriously-sirius-black <3. Luka? OOC? Idk, probably, I don’t write fanfic. But I am actually kinda proud of how well Alya turned out. Writing this made me realize how much of a mom friend I apparently headcanon her as. I wrote this gender-and-as-everything-else-neutral as I can make it (lemme know if you see ways I can improve, tho idk how much more fanfic I'll even be writing). Also, I freakin' RAMBLE and overuse italics, but ya get what ya get and ya don't gotta fret. Ooh, important note for future parts (if i write them) - this is a kinda!au where the miraculous users keep their miraculous. also if I had a nickel for every time I get awkwardly specific about the placement of both of a character’s hands I’d have TWO nickels. Happy reading!! <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Part I - Paris's Cutiest Heroes

The look currently on Marinette’s face as she sputtered out a response was priceless, “Cat Noir? Cat Noir!? What makes you think I’d find Cat Noir attractive at all? And- and- HIM- the cutest superhero! Ridiculous!”

“Utterly ridiculous?”

“Nice one, Alya”

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” you gave Alya a high five on your way to your seat next to Juleka and Rose on the couch facing Marinette and Alya. A sunny Friday after school was the perfect place for Kitty Section and their entourage to hang out. Unfortunately without Ivan and Mylène, seeing as their anniversary called for a private celebration. After pushing a couple couches onto the deck of The Liberty, Alya had predictably started talking about Paris's resident hero team. Today, she chose to ask everyone who they deemed the cutest, and she made sure to jump on Marinette's... interesting response, “And girl, he has the same silky golden hair and dreamy emerald eyes as Adrien Agreste. What’s utterly ridiculous is you freaking out and dodging every time we bring up superheroes!”

The designated snack-boy, Luka, walked out precariously carrying three bowls of goodies for everyone, “Alright, I got more popcorn. Sorry, but looks like we’re out of cheese flavoring, Y/N”

“Oh... that’s fine. I honestly wasn’t expecting it since I forgot to ask,” your free hand not reaching for the bowl rubbed the back of your neck, “but thanks for remembering.”

“Oh, um yeah- Always," is it creepy to remember something so specific? Someone as nice as Y/N wouldn't be interested in some creep. Ugh. Luka took a seat with his own bowl after passing Alya and Marinette theirs. He ended up next to you on the floor, leaning against the arm of the couch, dangerously close to touching your legs.

Rose reached for the popcorn as she interjected, “You know, Alya does have a point. So Marinette, why don’t you just tell us who you think the cutest superhero is, if you don’t like us guessing?”

Somehow Marinette’s face went even paler as she spoke, “What- I mean, I don’t- I haven’t thought- Wha- what about Y/N? Why aren’t you interrogating them?”

Alya crossed her arms, “Because Y/N says the same thing about the same hero every day. Just watch. Ahem, Y/N, care to weigh in on the cuteness level of our lovely Parisian superheroes?”

You looked up from the bowl you had stolen back from Rose with wide eyes, "Hey! Okay, no, that is not fair! Besides, what is our criteria for 'cute'? I mean... Are we going just by physical characteristics? Is costume a factor? What about the animal they're representing, could our opinion of that make this whole thing unfair? And cuteness is so subjective anyway... Why are we even reducing these amazing and honorable superheroes to just their looks? I mean we could be talking about skill, or their powers or power lev-"

"-And your answer would be exactly the same. Seriously, are you done trying- and might I add, failing- to talk yourself out of this one yet? Or should I just read the article you wrote for the Ladyblog?"

"You said you deleted that!"

Luka had perked his head up at your initial fumbling response and turned to you when he spoke, "You wrote an article? That's pretty cool."

You rubbed your face to try and distract yourself from the burning embarrassment, "Umm, yeah. But it was terrible and extremely not. worth. publishing." You hoped the glare you sent the girl in question was enough to scare her into deleting it on the spot, or to at least lie about it, "So Alya kindly deleted it, right?"

Sitting up with a smug look and crossed arms severely lowered your faith that she'd keep quiet. "A good journalist archives everything. Especially something as juicy as one of her besties going on for five thousand words about how dreamy the great Viperion is," dramatically fake-fainting into Marinette's lap, Alya could barely finish before bursting out in laughter. Of course, quickly followed by the others joining in to varying degrees. Juleka and Rose happily giggled to themselves, Marinette looked more relieved that the heat was off her, and Luka seemed to be shocked, or maybe just holding back to see how you were taking this.

Horribly. Horribly embarrassed would describe how you were taking this conversation. You sat there stock-still as you hoped that none of the others could hear your heart's desperate attempts to pound its way out of your chest. That's certainly all you could hear, at least until Alya's voice brought you out of it, "Hey, it's fine," she made her way over to sit next to you as she continued, "We all have our little hero crushes. That's why I bring it up all the time, to show you that it's totally normal! I mean, we all know how I could go on about Carapace for days," Alya gestured for the others to continue, and used her other hand to try and comfort you.

"Well, I find Ladybug to be just absolutely adorable and so kind.... oh it just makes me so happy knowing she's keeping all of Paris safe," Rose added softly.

Juleka brushed a strand of hair aside as she spoke, "Rena Rouge is super mysterious, pretty rad in my opinion."

Alya was rubbing your back like the mom friend she is to try and help encourage you, "See? Super normal, so go ahead and release all this pent up Viperion energy that I know you have. Maybe it'll encourage Marinette here to finally join in the fun!" Alya stuck her tongue out at her best friend, who responded promptly by smashing her face into a pillow.

You just sighed, "I mean- it’s- it can't just-'' were you supposed to just get over it all just like that? Well, at least the embarrassment was wearing off, maybe you could just entertain her for a bit, "Well- um, you see.... HisHairJustLooksReallySoftAnd- you know what. Nope. Can't do anymore of this. Yep- that's all you're getting out of me!" This time when everyone started giggling, you were able to comfortably join them. It was a nice feeling.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A nice evening chilling out with your friends was always welcome, especially with the rising number of akumatizations making that less possible. But the night had come to a close. Alya and Marinette went home, Juleka was walking Rose back herself, and Luka and you had volunteered to clean up. Luka stopped drying the cup in his hand for a minute as he looked at you, “Um, I know it might not be my place, but I want you to know that you don’t have to be embarrassed about the whole... Viperion thing.” God, how am I supposed to take the news that MY crush has a crush on.... Sort of me? Am I supposed to count it as me at all?

“Oh, um. Yeah, thanks. I think I’m over the embarrassment now that it’s out. I don’t know, it’s just that a lot of people think it’s weird since he’s kind of a new hero,” how are you supposed to explain this to him? That you kept such a non-issue secret from him, especially without getting suspiciously defensive about it. “And then people use that to try and say that I only like him for his looks..... And that’s not it! I don’t know, it’s kind of.... A lot? To explain, that is.” This was not going well.

“Oh... Well, what is it? That you like about him, I guess.”

This was so not going well. But he was waiting for a response so... “Uh, well I guess it did kinda start..... that way.... but then I started doing research. I learned about his power and saw videos of his fights. He’s really good! Especially for being so new, which kinda goes into why his power makes me like him so much.” Shit. Rambling, I’m just talking and talking and I need to stop. But how am I supposed to change the subject now? And now Luka’s sitting down, and he seems so invested. Why does this have to happen to me?

“What do you mean by that?”

Luka’s voice kindly shuts your little thought-spiral in its tracks. What were you saying? Oh, Viperion’s powers! You can talk about this, you know this. Just keep talking, at least he seems interested in it, “Well, you know how he can go back and redo the last couple of minutes?” Luka nodded, “Well, we always see the time that worked out. Us civilians get to keep going from the one time it all went right. Just imagine all the times he failed, all the times he couldn’t get it right. It could be dozens, maybe even hundreds of times! He must get so discouraged at some point, I mean I know I would.... I guess I didn’t really think about it at first, but.... but, I doubt I could keep that determination, and I’m so glad Paris has a hero who can, and does.”

Silence. Why was it so quiet? Oh no, he thinks I’m weird. He must think-

“All of this from ‘his hair looks soft’?”

“Hey! You can’t tell me not to be embarrassed, then make fun of me! That’s against the rules!”

Luka chuckled as he said, “Against what rules, exactly?”

“The Rules Of Best Friendship, duh!”

“And who exactly said you were my best friend?”

“Well... your loss, I guess. Now you won’t get an invitation when I plan Rose and Juleka’s wedding,” you brushed off his offended glare as you took the seat next to him.

“She’s my sister.”

“She’d take my side.”

I’d take your side, too. I will always take your side. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

A/N the sequel: I am super bad at finishing things, but I really wanna keep motivated to finish this (like I have a full, probably 3 part, plan for this). If you guys want to help, shoot me a message and I'll send you a link to the google doc I'm writing this on. Feel free to leave a little comment (pls be kind, obviously) and see my writing process! Idk, would any of you guys be interested in that? Would you just get annoyed at having already read the thing before I post it?

#luka couffaine x reader #luka couffaine #mircaulous ladybug #miraculous fanworks #miraculous fanfic #miraculous luka #miraculous lb #the tales of ladybug and cat noir #luka couffaine fanfic #luka couffaine imagine #im gonna hate seeing this show up when i search luka x reader #but imma have to deal with it #mmmmmmm #we love anxiety here #<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

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Dᴏꜱᴄᴇɴᴅᴏ Dɪꜱᴄɪᴍᴜꜱ

The reader tries to paint the Colossal Titan from memory, and Bertholdt seems to know more than most people.

Requested: no.

Word Count: 2092

Docendo Discimus is a Latin proverb meaning "by teaching, we learn." It is perhaps derived from Seneca the Younger, who says in his Letters to Lucilius: Homines dum docent discunt., meaning "Men learn when they teach”.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The human body is home to somewhere between six hundred and eight hundred muscles. There are two hundred and six bones, seventy-eight organs, one hundred thousand miles of veins, and roughly ten pints of blood. Every individual cell has a purpose, important and needed for the body to continue to function.

Assuming the anatomy of a titan was the same to that of the average person’s, the Colossal Titan should be easier to render than this. You’d sketched the face of muscle and teeth over a hundred times by this point, and each one of them seemed to draw further away from realism than you liked.

Sure, it was arguable that the Colossal just didn’t have the same anatomy in his face as the average human. But then there should’ve been more factors in his face that shouldn’t have worked.

For example, the monster didn’t possess a muscle called the orbicularis. You could remember that specifically from the time you and your fellow cadets had gotten a bit too close for comfort. But based on the lack of orbicularis, he shouldn’t have been able to blink. And yet, he had. There was also a strange muscle in his temporal region with horizontal fibers, that couldn’t have simply been his temporal. It doesn't seem to have any particular function, either.

God damn it. It’s appearance should’ve been the one thing about this bastard to make sense, but instead it had confused you just as much as the rest of it. Never mind how smart you were. If you couldn’t solve this simple turned complex mystery, why hold out hope for studying anatomy when the world would return to normalcy?

In your frustration, you slam the paintbrush back into your cup of water. A stain of red clouds erupts in the liquid at once, angry from how direct the solid hits the surface. In front of you, the canvas shines with the new layer of red paint. Beside it is a coat of salmon, also fresh and lined with the titan’s muscles.

“So stupid,” you hiss, half to yourself. You grab your cadet corps jacket, shrugging it on swiftly before crossing your arms and stepping back.

It was supposed to be a gift for Eren. He knew you were something of a painter and had once jokingly asked you to make a dart board for him. The moment you conceived this idea, you knew it had to be a stroke of genius. But you wanted to get it right, and for that, the artist and realist inside of you seemed to be punished for it.

Was it something with the eyes? No, it was definitely the anatomy of the titan overall. “For fucks sake,” you wave off finally, turning on your heel to walk away for a while. But when you turn around, you’re face to chest with one so broad you nearly stumble back.

The figure tenses up immediately. You tilt your head up to see who it is, recognizing the nervous, kaleidoscope eyes of your comrade. Bertholdt, you’re sure his name is. You haven’t talked too many times, but you’ve seen him in your circle of friends. There’s a memory in your brain of asking your bunkmate, Annie, about why Bertholdt would hang around someone so upstanding and obnoxious as Reiner, but you can’t recall her specific answer.

“O-oh, Y/N!” Bertholdt nearly wheezes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand so close.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter, rubbing the side of your head as you step away. “What are you doing here?”

Yes, what was he doing here? A little closeted off room by the girl barracks? And aside from that, how does someone as tall as he even sneak his way inside? It’s suspicious, to say the least.

“I was just-” Bertholdt stares down at you, sweat already beginning to form on his face. Oh, goddess. How is he to get out of this one? If Reiner was with him, he could just lie his way out of it. But now, looking down at your apathetic, borderline tired, frustrated face, he knows he’s never had much luck with girls. Especially not pretty girls like you.

His gaze shifts to behind you. There, on a perfectly square parchment of thick paper, is a rough sketch of a long face without any skin. It seems to be all muscle, labeled and detailed. Half the sheet is colored in with pinks, browns, and scarlets, with the other half marked with insane little scribbled patterns that remind him of words.

You’re still waiting for an answer. He sees your steady, patient eyes and your balled fists by your hips, and Bertholdt wonders if you already know. “I saw you bring in those cans of paint, and I guess I got curious.”

“Oh,” you reply flatly. “Yeah. That.”

“It’s um...” Compliment her. Compliment her painting. “It’s a nice painting. What’s it supposed to be of?”

“The Colossal Titan,” you tell him as you rub the back of your neck. Then you turn on your side so you can view your art, immediately narrowing your eyes in disgust at it. “It’s not my best.”

Bertholdt’s words come out a bit louder than he intended. “Actually, I think it’s really, really great, Y/N!”

You turn back to meet Bertholdt’s nervous, almost quivering eyes. You certainly wouldn’t call yourself an expert on the male gender, but this tall bastard was exactly the stereotype of someone who wasn’t an expert on the female gender. It was almost funny. No, it was almost ironic.

“I just mean that... it’s really good. It’s easy to see that you have heaps of talent,” the brunette reiterates, seemingly calmer this time.

What a nice thing to say to someone.

“That’s not really my point though,” you borderline sigh. “The point is that no matter what I seem to do to him, it doesn’t seem realistic does it?”

“What do you mean by that?” Bertholdt questions, his eyebrows furrowing. That’s right, he wouldn’t be able to squint without his orbicularis. Something your art model was currently lacking.

Do you even bother to explain it to him? It’s not like either of you are close, or like he’d exactly understand what you were saying to him anyway. But where was the harm, really?

You walk back towards the parchment, with Bertholdt just a few steps behind.

“See this area?” you ask, gesturing to the Colossal Titan’s eye area. “There's a muscle here that’s supposed to let people close their eyes. But the colossal titan doesn’t have that.”

“W-why is that?”

You shrug. “Damned if I know. But doesn’t it look wrong on him?”

Bertholdt observes the painting. He sees all the details, all the time you’ve put into it. While you are right about the image and the titan’s strange features, it’s now that Bertholdt realizes just how intelligent you really are. Unlike other people, you actually knew things. If he were an enemy, he might be starting to feel threatened right about now. Ironic indeed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” the boy says shyly. “Why does it have to be perfect, though?”

Good question.

“No real reason,” you tell him, trying to hide the hint of smile. “I guess it’s just how it is. Eren is the one who asked for this.”

“O-oh... you mean like a...”

Your eyes flit back to Bertholdt. “Like a what?”

Bertholdt can feel the sullen wave of anxiety wash over him. He hadn’t meant to let the stray thoughts fall from his lips, but now he can’t take it back. Now what does he say? “I just mean, is it a gift or something like that?”

“Sure.”

Were you and Eren...?

“I might be able to help you with it,” Bertholdt stutters, again, louder than he’d intended. He’s lucky at least one of you is level headed during this interaction.

“How so? Do you paint?”

“No, but I think I might know some things about the Colossal that you don’t,” Bertholdt offers. His right arm reaches behind to rub at his sweaty neck. In that instant, you can see that the boy has an almost identical structure to that of your subject. You’d have to note that the tall boy would make a brilliant model for something like this.

“Like what?” you question. “Could you give me some feedback on my piece then?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. You were going to find out.

Bertholdt pretends to be in deep thought for a minute, knitting his dark eyebrows together. His green, blue eyes sweep over the picture, watching the slick settle. “Well, you’re right about the muscle around the eye. I’d take that out, but maybe place the shadow of it?”

“The shadow?”

“The outline. And maybe make his eyes more glossy than this. Titan’s have a second set of eyelids.”

You don’t have time to question him further. Bertholdt continues the onslaught of information.

“I think you should also make some of these areas here a bit lighter,” he says, pointing to the side of the Colossal’s face. “From the steam and the high body temperature, it would get a bit smoky.”

“Yeah,” you begin slowly, watching the shine in Bertholdt’s previously nervous eyes. “I hadn’t considered that.”

The lanky male in front of you lets his lips curl into a sheepish smile, closing his eyes as his fingers thread themselves between his hair. “I doubt most people do, so you’re not really in the wrong.”

“How do you know so much?” you ask. “You’ve been quiet with everyone up until now. Do the higher ups even know all this?”

“I mean, they’d have to right? I guess I just took a lot of notes in class.”

You hadn’t remembered your professor mentioning most of these things during your Titan Studies period. But maybe it wasn’t really worth questioning him over. Maybe Bertholdt was just more observant than you had ever really considered. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Your eyes are fixated on him. Bertholdt was kind of cute, actually. His eyes are both big and slim, with pale green orbs. His skin was always a bit illuminated with a nervous sweat, and he was incredibly mild mannered. But maybe that was actually a good thing compared to all the boys in camp who seemed to lack any conception of manners. Pouty, chapped lips, a gentle smile, messy dark hair. He seems like someone reliable. Kind. Trustworthy.

“Yeah,” you say again, breaking eye contact. “So, are there any other suggestions you have for me?”

Bertholdt is still for a moment, thinking it over. “No, other than don’t think so hard about it, probably.”

“You two sort of have a similar face,” you say, staring at the muscled beast you’d attempted to replicate. “Maybe you should pose for me sometime.”

Bertholdt tenses.

“I’m only joking,” you assure. Bertholdt’s broad shoulders fall as he relaxes, and a soft exhale leaves from between his lips. “But I would like it if you’d let me model after you.”

“Me?” Bertholdt stutters, shocked. “You mean you’d want to really paint me?”

“‘Course,” you say, nonchalant as always. “You’ve got one of those faces.”

Bertholdt smiles naturally. Soft, but noticeable. You return it after a few seconds, feeling your previous frustration and anger at the piece begin to wander away.

“I should get back to work,” you say as you turn around. Bertholdt watches you unclip the parchment from your sturdy easel, place it on the stone floor, and grab another paper from a pile.

“Y-you’re starting again?”

“Of course,” you say. Your dominant hand laces around a piece of charcoal, preparing to drag it across the page. In one swift and scratchy motion, an onyx line appears at the top of the paper.

Bertholdt’s cheeks dust pink from behind you. He’s about to offer if you want him to pose for you so you can memorize what’s underneath his shy skin, but he stays quiet. Instead, Bertholdt is happy that he even got to speak to you in the first place. He wanders out of the room with butterflies in his stomach, and guilt in his heart.

And you, with your eyes narrow, basing the monster that ruined your life off the boy who had just helped you.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I didn’t proof read this. I feel like I’ve just been cranking stuff out lately. someone remind me to go back and edit thank you

#bertholdt x reader #bertholdt imagines #bertholdt hoover x reader #bertholdt fubar x reader #bertholdt fubar imagines #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin masterlist #aot masterlist

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lcnatic · 3 years

Text

[john david washington — 36 — he/him] Introducing RUS RALSTON. Word on the street is they are a HITMAN and member of THE SYNDICATE for the past FIVE YEARS. Though they are INSENSITIVE and SECRETIVE, they can also be DEDICATED and RESILIENT. In the chaos of New York City, they’re sure to fit right in.

— BASICS

Name: Rus Ralston Age / D.O.B.: 36 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis male, he/him, bisexual Hometown: TBA Affiliation: The Syndicate Job position: Hitman Education: TBA Relationship status: Single Children: N/A Positive traits: Dedicated, resilient Negative traits: Insensitive, secretive

— BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death, mentions of suicide )

It’s hard to get out of a life of crime when you’re born into it. Rus came to learn what the expectations were within the mafia relatively quick. His father was good with technology and his mother was good at breaking things. Bodies, finances, lives- so on and so forth, but Rus never had to worry about any of that. Not until later at least.

No one was surprised when Rus proved himself to be useful within the mafia. It was a family business after all, and he went through the years learning from his mistakes to proving people wrong. He might have seemed the type to be a one-man team, but he had a few select people that he could call ‘friends’. All of which were at the top of their field. All of which had crossed fire with each other since the world is coincidentally small.

His younger brother, Alan, had managed to stay separate from the Ralston traditions. He was an outcast, essentially, but Rus always kept tabs on him. He was still family, after all - the only one he really cared for. He was one of the best hitmen within the family by the time his nephew, Paul, had been born. And though Rus never had any children of his own, he adored his brother’s small family.

Except his brother’s wife, Audrey, wasn’t exactly the doting wife everyone had assumed. See, she had come from a broken home where her father and sister had been taken away from her at the age of four. A gas leak and tragic house fire, the news had said. Audrey and her mother had survived because they ran out before they had inhaled too much smoke. Or that’s what Audrey had always been told.

Audrey’s mother had done everything she could to keep her daughter safe, but her efforts fell short. Suicide was what the news read when Audrey was twelve. Her mother had been so filled with grief from the loss of her husband and other child that she couldn’t take it anymore. That’s what the suicide note read at least. And maybe some of that was true, but not all of it. Audrey’s mother hadn’t been so consumed to take her own life. No, someone came and set it up that way. And Audrey had seen it. She had seen Mrs. Ralston kill her mother and leave the note from where she hid.

So Rus didn’t have to worry about the lives that his mother and father had ruined until the day everything went to shit.

She took and burned everything he loved. His brother and nephew, his 9 to 5, his sense of normalcy. The transition from security to hit for hire happened far too easily. First was a visit paid to those that snuffed the life of his family. Then it was to Audrey herself, sat in his brother’s home, steadfast with expectancy. He was told, right when he breached the front entry, what happened. How the Ralston's had ruined Audrey’s life, and that she was the one that had been consumed by grief and hatred. How she had been planning for this very moment for so long.

And he believed it.

He could tell just from the look in her eyes that she meant everything said. She had hired someone to kill her husband and her very own son; both of whom she supposedly loved dearly. Yet despite the sympathy, he felt at that moment, it wasn’t enough for him to lay down for her to kill. So they fought- both with the desperation to live. And, in the end, Rus barely rose as the victor. He put two bullets into her head and stood there for a while; numb down to the core. His brother’s house was set on fire and he left it to the mob to deal with the aftermath.

From that point on, he was never the same. He vanished from the life held prior. Some said it was because of the grief held by the unfortunate end to his brother and nephew. And other claimed it was because of the alleged disappearance of his sister-in-law. The last remaining factor of the Ralston family aside from himself.

And, well, they were both right to some extent.

He never did get over the memory of his brother and his family. He never got over a lot of things, but that’s just how life was. Whatever happened in the past should stay in the past. Just like how a particular acquaintance of his red-blooded days shouldn’t have sought him out to return an old favor. One that Rus had promised to return twofold when he had been caught in a nasty situation. One that had him return to an all too familiar scene set in a different location. One that just might make New York his final destination in the journey known as his fucking life.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

Friends ( 0/? ) . Are a very loose concept for him. Always has been, and it might be forever. They’re expendable - everyone is. That isn’t to say that he doesn’t know the value of actual friendship, though. It only takes half an eon to be on friendly terms with him; actual friendly terms.

Unlikely friends ( 0/? ) . Yes, Rus will definitely be annoyed out of his mind, but I’d love to have someone actually click with him. Specifically someone that has a vastly different personality than him.

‘Coworkers’ ( 0/? ). Of the Syndicate. Past, current, future - anyone that had the misfortune of working with this surly dude. But, hey, at least it’s basically guaranteed things will get things done.

Enemies ( 0/? ) . He’s got ‘em, maybe one too many, but at least he’s a formidable opponent.

Captain planet he’s pretty relatable ( 0/? ) . Calling all fellow plant and eco-friendly enthusiasts! While Rus looks like Sam Eagle with the driest personality imaginable, he does have an incredibly soft spot for all things green. Got or need tips about the tricks of a green thumb? Spill ‘em and he’ll actually participate in the conversation.

Found family ( 0/? ) . Again, not the easiest but would be awesome to achieve & have me sob.

Romance ( 1/1 ). Something... something fall in love.

#wb.intro #* & intro .

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Why do you think it is people can't accept or view woman as abusive? Whether it's mothers, wifes, girlfriends, or just friends? Is it because men are usually the abusers in media and therefore accepted as the abusers in real life always? Do people out there really not think woman can be both physically or emotionally abusive to men in their lives just as men can be?

As with all of these topics there’s no one reason why such thinking comes about, but rather a complicated intersection of ideas, teachings, assumptions, personal experience, culture, etc. Part of it is that statistically men (in the US and UK anyway) are more likely to be the abuser and the media does reflect that, so some people tend to conflate “usually” with “always.” Even though those are obviously two distinct situations. Which is how you get antagonistic responses to those who advocate for men who suffer from abuse. Some see it as a means of drawing attention away from the ‘real’ problem of women victims, rather than acknowledging that both things exist simultaneously: a predominance of one gender being victims and the other gender facing a unique hurdle because of that predominance. When we teach - overtly or implicitly - that only women can be abused, we set up a scenario where men must first prove that what they’ve suffered can and does exist at all, let alone that they as an individual suffer from it. We see this with rape as well. Women must navigate a world that acknowledges that they can be raped, but tends to deny that it happened to her (she was asking for it, she should be grateful, etc.) Men, meanwhile, often hear that they simply can’t be raped, full stop. Because that’s something that only happens to women, because men always want sex, because a man could have put a stop to it, etc. And if this seems at all confusing, contradictory, complicated, and other difficult ‘c’ words, it’s because it is. Different genders who experience abuse simultaneously have commonalities that should inspire solidarity among the groups as well as individual circumstances that have to be taken into account. There is no one size fits all explanation here, which is precisely why intersectionality exists.

Thinking about those individual factors though, gender norms absolutely come into play and feed those broader ideas about who can and cannot be abused. To put it simply, the concept of (toxic) masculinity does not provide room for men to be victims of abuse via women, simply because they are supposed to be inherently stronger and thus protected from assault. I experienced a perfect example of this bias while discussing Caroline Flack’s assault arrest. To be clear, we had almost no details about the case and were speaking very generally about abuse as a whole, rather than what actually happened between her and her boyfriend. This was also prior to her suicide, so take this as a conversation pretty much entirely removed from her specific situation. Basically though, the conversation revolved around the utter disbelief that a girlfriend could assault - let alone consistently abuse - a boyfriend. This person was grudgingly accepting of emotional abuse, but physical was off the table. After all, he’s a big strong guy and she’s so tiny. You’re telling me he can’t catch her arm when she goes to hit him? Or just hit her back? When I began to point out the problems in this thinking, the lack of understanding as to how abusers work, and begin to introduce the concept of victim blaming, they responded with, “I’m not blaming the victim, I’m blaming his inability to defend himself!” Which is a response that made me stare into an invisible camera like I was on The Office. Frustration aside, this conversation does a decent job of demonstrating the biases at work here: 1. Men are pretty much immune to abuse because abuse is almost entirely physical. 2. That immunity stems from clear-cut ideas about how man and women develop: he will be big and strong while she will be tiny and weak. 3. Abuse is not a complicated form of conditioning but a one time thing that anyone with the correct tools (strength) can stand up against: just stop her from hitting you. 4. If you somehow fail to stop her you can (and will instinctively want) to get revenge by hitting her back. That will demonstrate dominance and put an end to things. Problem solved. Obviously there is a lot to unpack there and that’s coming from a liberal, progressive, otherwise empathetic person. This kind of thinking runs deep.

I want to emphasize that people get degrees in this, write books, spend their whole lives studying and working through such a nuanced subject... so a blog post response does not a perfect answer make lol. Nor does a BBC vid with a clickbait-y title, but experiments like this - simple as they are - can help to demonstrate that thinking:

youtube

“My first thought was... he looked a bit soft... he looked a bit soft letting her hit him like that... I wouldn’t let a girl hit me.”

“I think the man must have done something to the woman”

There’s such a pervasive idea that men, as men, are the dominant gender that any evidence of abuse is automatically reframed as a) something he secretly enjoys, b) something he brought on himself, or c) proof that he’s not a “real” man and is defective for suffering from this. It’s a view that is perpetuated in fandom as well as real life. When Salem kills Ozpin it means he obviously did something to deserve it (trying to escape with the kids) because only guilty men suffer like that. When Yennefer takes control of or invades Geralt’s mind it means he secretly liked it because only weak men would stick around to suffer through something they were uncomfortable with - and Geralt is the opposite of weak. Then these stories - as stories written by an author who controls all events, responses, and outcomes - further paint these assumptions as correct: Ozpin is condemned as a horrible person (see, he deserved it!) and Geralt’s true love is shown to be Yennefer (see, he secretly doesn’t mind!) because these are characters who adhere to the whims of fallible authors. That doesn’t represent reality, but it can help perpetuate our perception of it. The author who fails to acknowledge a man’s abuse that they’ve written is no different from an author who fails to acknowledge a woman’s abuse that they’ve written. How the audience responds to those relationships, however, is very different. We’ve reached a point now where we can say stuff like, “Just because fictional Anastasia Steel has been written to think the way Christian Gray treats her is sexy and healthy doesn’t mean it is,” but we often fail to apply that same fiction/reality distinction for men. Instead, women abusers of all varieties - from genocidal Salem to “just” insults/threat of magical retribution Yennefer - are painted as badass or secret victims because the alternative would be acknowledging that men have the capability to be victims at all. Especially powerful men who (supposedly) have every means of defending themselves.

As one woman in the video puts it, “the stereotype that women have less power than a man” is ingrained in our culture and it hurts men and genders not on the binary as well as women. It’s just that the damage to women is the most obvious and, as said, at times much more common. But that doesn’t mean these other impacts don’t exist. This is why feminism is inclusive and anyone who tells you it’s only for women hasn’t done much research. There’s a difference between people who may use such situations as a means of erasing all the shit women have to deal with (Men’s Rights™) and those who acknowledge that the limitations put on women and the abuse they suffer has the added concern of negatively impacting those around them. They’re baises that don’t help anyone.

#abuse tw #suicide tw #rape tw #witcher #rwby #mymetas #Anonymous

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years

Text

Doing something for fun: RPGs about broken anuses.

As promised, after the abomination that was the Sam arc, I am now going to write random posts about more positive/fun things. However, I also decided to add a little twist to them and correlate them in some way thematically to Dobson. E.g. by reviewing a game/show that does all the things Dobson hates/obsesses about/or fails at right.

And my first entry in that regard is related to a videogame that came out a couple of years ago, based on a tv show Dobson claims to hate. South Park: The fractured but whole.

Seeing how the game is 3+ years old at this time and there have been tons of reviews & walkthroughs showing how good and fun the game is, I do not really want to cover the plot and all the things that make it great in detail. Lets just say you can really feel that Parker and Stone were heavily involved in the writing of the game, as it is filled to the brim with references to the show and the typical satirical humor of it, that in parts manages to cross the line even further for me than the show. Right from the start you get a very dark but smart social joke and commentary out of the way, when as you set up your characters looks and the difficulty of the game, it is the tone of your skin that decides how hard the game gets. Meaning if you play as a black person, you are having a very hard time. It is not too preachy, just an acknowledgment that yes, in American society, blacks can have it harder compared to white people. Especially when living in a town like South Park, where social standing is pretty low and the police force is inherently corrupt and racist, doing something so outrageously to black people, I do not want to spoil it. Let’s just say it ends in a better Lovecraft joke than any of the shit SJWs did in light of censoring Call of Cthulhu board rpgs.

The overall plot is simple: While last time the kids played fantasy and things escalated quickly as they do in South Park, this time they play superheroes, with two fractions having formed: Coon and Friends vs the Freedom Pals and things escalating just as quickly. What starts off as the hunt for a missing cat to earn a 100$ reward Cartman wants to use to start a multi billion dollar movie franchise just like Marvel, turns soon into the player and his friends having to fight a real crime conspiracy thought up by one of South Park’s most nefarious characters, which also involves genetic mutations, time travel and eldritch horrors. Thankfully you, the “New Kid” from the last game, even after losing all your previous powers thanks to no one playing fantasy anymore, gain new superhero powers, make friends with the South Park kids again and even learn new fart techniques by none other than Morgan Freeman, that help you out along the way. All while also slowly revealing more about your backstory hinted on in the previous game and the tragedy of your dad having had intercourse with your mother.

Being a South Park and RPG fan for years, I wanted to play this game for quite some time, but only managed to do so recently. And even if I spoiled myself massively over time with cutscenes and major battles online, this game is still fun (thanks in part also to the fact I watched the cutscenes years ago and by now forgot a lot of them). The turn based battle system is way more interesting than last time by also depending on you positioning the characters on the field in a strategy based RPG style, there are lots of classes to choose and powers to combine (I myself going for elementalist, assassin, plantmancer and blaster currently) and you have a ton of allies in the game. The original cast of the four main boys, Jimmy and Butters has expanded significantly in this game with characters such as SUPER CRAIG, Clyde as the blood sucking MOSQUITO, Token as TUPPERWARE and Wendy as the social media huntress CALL GIRL (yes, that is her name) and they all are fun to interact and play with, with each one having their own unique sets of moves and finishers once again. Even outside of the battle, thanks to the writing, there are always great lines from them to get when interacting or taking missions from them. I especially came to love Tweek and Craig, who are not just decent fighters (Tweek in particular is a great elementalist) , but in this game are also now a couple ever since that yaoi episode from South Park. Helping them reconcile after a bad break up over the course of the game just feels surprisingly nice, mostly because unlike other LGBT celebrating media out there (Korra and She Ra e.g.) none of the characters crosses some sort of moral line where you question why they deserve to be together (Hello, Catra), it is not heavily handed garbage fishing for brownie points and it is obvious through dialogue and actions they care for each other, even if they are at first going through a bad break up as only South Park could ridiculously portray it.

Overall, the game is also surprisingly “inclusive” and socially relevant without being preachy about it, if you ask me. From the aforementioned skin color thing, to LGBT representation via Tweek and Craig, the police being involved in a plot that especially nowadays is sadly more relevant than ever (mind you, I do not believe that in real life all cops are bad, but in my opinion bad eggs on both sides certainly led to the current situation in the US and that is all I say) to the fact you can over the course of the game decide not just if you are playing as a boy or a girl, but even something in-between, a cis-/transgendered person and decide your race, religion as well as to whom you are sexually attracted to. Granted, I barely see how it has any bearing on the game’s plot, but I appreciate the following things: a) the inclusion of the possibility to decide on those factors itself, making creating your character even more fun (a basic right others demand for certain games nowadays in all the wrong ways) and b) that the game does not make the biggest of deals about it. See, I am under the impression that often times the most progressive and inclusive thing is to just let the story and personality of a character speak for itself, instead of the fact that it also identifies by a specific gender, sexuality, race or other allignment. In fact focusing on those things on a character only is something I consider ”positive stereotyping”, which for me is just racism in the opposite direction. And if you no think I am going off track here and need to be beaten up by someone who genuinely has some grip on pc culture, don’t worry. This game features PC Principal actually doing an ok job teaching you about microaggressions in his typical PC Principal manner, which in itself becomes a relevant move in future battles and is hilarious to watch. Speaking of the new kid, putting things like your chance to gender identify yourself with it in more detail (which you can also adjust again later on in game if you feel like it) aside, for a silent protagonist he/she/it can have a nice level of debt to it, if you look too much into it.

Not only does it have a funny backstory explaining its fart and social media powers, there are recurring scenes of the kid’s parents being on each others throat and the kid just silently eating dinner for the night that genuinely feel sad and create sympathy in our little FartLord to the point you just want the kid to go out there, have an adventure and hopefully find a way to change its parents for good, cause it is obvious they love the kiddo, but damn do they need to cut off the substance abuse.

Storywise you get something out of this game that is way more entertaining and hilarious than the last two seasons of the show combined (FUCK the season of 2019) and game content wise you are also rewarded with a lot of shit, just for exploring the town. Be it you finding hidden yaoi fanart that earns you money, your allies helping you solve puzzles that reward you with exp and new costumes to further customize your outfit, making new friends on Coonstagram by taking selfies with all the major and minor characters of the town, helping Big Gay Al finding his missing cats, stumbling upon Memberberries, forging new artifacts to increase your strength, finding summons… all stuff that helps you not just gain exp and become stronger, but also makes you enjoy going through South Park outside of the main story content. In fact I spend a majority of my first twelve hours in this game only wrapping up the prologue missions and first two chapter of the game, while otherwise talking with as many people in town as possible, exploring the stores and houses, doing side missions etc. just for the fun of interacting with the characters and the world they are part of.

Now, how does all of that relate to Dobson?

Well lets see…

Game based on something he hates that has however rightfully more success than he ever deserves, with lots of political commentary and satire for years in its humor? Check.

Game itself having more of that commentary done right then Dobson in his own comics and story attempts? Check

LGBT representation via Tweek and Craig as well as Big Gay Al that does not feel too stereotypical despite Al himself being extremely stereotypical in design? Check

Some pretty decent/hilarious female characters in the game once you know them? (again, Call Girl and Classi, who fucks the L out of the A-S-S) Check.

Being a style of game he hates for no apparent reason, but executed well (RPGs)? Check

Thematically focused on superheroes, a trend he is obsessed about, but here both appreciating while also poking good fun at common tropes of it and the marketing of the MCU, in doing so just highlighting how much of a mindless consumer Dobson is? Check

Being a game where you can also play as any gender and race and its not turned into a “groundbreaking” industry changing feature pandering to minorities that in the eyes of corporations are just a market to exploit, not people? Check

Heck, if Dobson was not a biased idiot, the game would be perfect for him. It even panders to his toilet fetish in videogames.

Kid you not: a mini game in the game itself features the possibility to go to every toilet in town and shit in it. The process of defecation itself being a rhythm game and you earning exp from it once you took enough dumps. And considering Dobson once spend hours in Skyrim looking for outhouses, that sounds right up Dobson’s back alley.

Bottom line, this game is fun. If you like South Park, superheroes and RPGs, this game is perfect for you. And seeing how it has been a few years since it came out, I think it should be possible to get a cheap copy of it somewhere. Go on, play it. But always remember: Never fart on another dude’s balls. It is just not the polite thing to do.

#so you are a cartoonist #Andrew Dobson #syac #south park #the fractured but whole #super heroes #rpg

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spadesinglasses · 3 years

Text

The Shipper

welp has spoilers and not so happy words.

Disclaimer.

I have little patience for body swap plots. But they are fine if they were executed well.

What I hate tho is a gender and body swap plot. And guess what The Shipper has :D

So I watch this series with this knowledge. I know vaguely what happened but I still tried it because someone whom I trust their taste of recommended this. And boy was I hella disappointed.

I wasted my time on this series.

The Shipper is a bout this girl and a boy. The girl shipped the boy with his best friend. But then they died and then was resurrected but in each other's bodies.

The boy was dead but the girl continued living in the boy's body and ya know what she did first? Have a relationship with the boy's bestfriend to fulfill her ship.

Aside from the funny scenes, if you're expecting for this series to actually dive deep into the consequences of shipping, lower your expectation please.

I'm gonna be harsh but this series was really just a waste of time. I wish that I could go back to time and not watch this at least I wouldn't hate it so much.

If they get a season 2 and have the boy be the main character then sure I'll watch it, but it they don't then I will really not back down with my distaste for this show.

As a gay man, a lot of what happened in this series rubbed me the wrong way and left such a bad taste in my mouth. The boy's couple in the series is great and I wish they were the ones who got the happy ending and not the het one.

Ohm here is great and honestly was the only reason I even entertained the idea of watching it aside from the chemistry of the mlm side couple, but yeah was it worth the annoyance that I accumulated? No.

I should've just waited for a series of the side couple and/or just rewatched He's Coming To Me.

I don't even know why I am creating this reaction. To vent? To find like minded people who got baited by the show and hate it? I dunno.

But if you ever read this far and love the show, please don't even try to change my mind.

I value a gay character's life more than what artistic choice they wanna show with their actions.

Just thinking about it is making me angry anymore. This is my last thing for the show and hopefully in the future we never get any kind of series anymore with this kind of execution. Such a disappointment. I would've been chastised a bit if the girl ended up with her girl friend but nope.

A REDEEMING FACTOR that I have to point out because give credit where its due and all that stuff, is when Pan was faced with the realization that she knows jack shit about Way. UNFORTUNATELY that only lasted to one scene and ended up wrecking havoc with no self reflection afterwards. So ya know whatever.

Oh well what's done is done.

Only thing to do is move forward.

All I wanna say to those who wave the flag of this show and will recommend it to people, be realistic with what you say.

Sigh I can't even think fondly of the scenes between Kim and Way because technically those scenes are between Pan and Way.

#the shipper #glass thoughts

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hollowcrovvn · 5 years

Text

Every Breath (RK900 x f!reader | reposted)

Rating: M

Pairing: RK900 x f!Reader Summary: Nines has you in his sights, all parameters designating you as his perfect potential partner. Though he is a bit confused on what type of partner that means. Notes: SHAMELESS PWP because I’m thirsty and needed a tall glass of Nines. I GOT TUMBLR FLAGGED SO REPOSTING (ao3)

Working with Gavin had been satisfactory. RK900's, Nines, performance had been holding steady at 96.2% effectiveness, but there was always room for improvement. RK900 knew it made the humans around it more comfortable to refer to "him" with masculine pronouns and had labeled him with the nickname "Nines" to further his assimilation and to avoid confusing him with the "other" similar looking but obsolete model RK800. It was unconsciously done, humans liked to be around their own kind, which is why he looked like this to begin with. There were probably better forms, more structurally sound and efficient, but Nines was trapped within this human shell. He envied computers sometimes, if only for their streamlined aesthetic, but alas, he needed a means to carry his bio-components from room to room.

Speaking of people who only existed to bring their brain room to room, Gavin entered the offices at that moment with you alongside him. Scans indicated heightened caffeine levels in both Gavin's and the officers bloodstream; coffee date? No. Account balances showed Gavin had only paid for his own. Nines relaxed back, crossing his leg to rest on his knee. He was programmed to display more human characteristics than the RK800 was capable of— well, before it deviated. Again, all simply a means to make him appear more approachable and therefore, more human. Did it work? Hardly. Everyone eyed him with unveiled suspicion. They had accepted the RK800, but such courtesy had not yet been extended to him.

He had to work on that.

"You're in my seat, tin-can." Gavin said, the insult having of late lost much of its malice and becoming almost as much of a nickname as the "Nines" he had bestowed upon him. Nines stood and moved to the opposite chair, feeling no need to argue the point that technically, it was his. Nines had learned his first week of Gavin's preoccupation with starting needless conflict, you on the other hand were far less simple of a puzzle.

You didn't like him, that was evident by your tone, refusal to meet his eyes and your micro-expressions that often expressed ill-ease. There was however, some other cues that indicated the exact opposite. Nines had categorized you under "mixed feelings" in regards to his existence.

You were an officer, but specifically you were trained for and worked in crime scene investigation and had been the rising star forensic photographer for about three years now. A quick file search showed you were still waiting to take the detective's exam, hoping for a career change. Nines disapproved. He wanted you to take your exam as soon as possible so he could submit his request to be reassigned as your partner. He had been watching you closely, examining how you worked scenes and how you processed evidence. He had listened in on your conversations with other officers to get an idea of your personality, hobbies and other personal information needed to determine how well you'd fit.

It was simple math. All probability suggested you would raise his effectiveness level to 98.8%. A 2.6% increase was very appealing, along with the fact you were the most likely to "bond" with him over Gavin or any other officer. Nines knew this of course, because of that the one factor you had that no one else did, the thing that filed you under "mixed feelings". Your pupils expanded when you looked at him and the beat of your pulse was less to do with fear and more to do with excitement. In short, despite your reservations, you were sexually attracted to him. He had paid attention to your interactions with the RK800 and found no similar reaction, which indicated it was specific to his model. Nines could work with that.

Parameters adjusted and he gave a friendly smile to you, making sure it reached his eyes.

"Good morning, officer. How are you feeling today?"

"Jesus," you said with a scowl, "You know, it's kinda rude to scan people without permission." you said, circles under your eyes, "It's called a hangover, Nines. Keep it to yourself."

"I didn't—" Nines started, noting now all the tell-tale signs of veisalgia now that you had mentioned it, "I apologize, ma'am. I did not scan your vitals, I was simply trying to be polite."

Unlike Gavin, your face lit up red, burning with sudden embarrassment.

"Oh..."

"Busted." Gavin said with a laugh, taking his seat.

"Er— sorry. I just assumed."

"It's quite alright, officer. It has been a very eventful week for you. Studying for the detective exam?"

Now the embarrassment turned into something akin to shame, veiled with anger. Parameters needed to adjust again. Somehow he'd said the wrong thing, as if he was judging her night time excursions.

"Do they program you to be a smart ass, or is that just you?"

"I am most certainly programmed to be smart." he said, definitely being one now.

Gavin would have reacted negatively to the quip, but your features softened and your expression became one of vague admiration for the joke.

"I bring it up because I would like to be of help. If you need someone to go over terms or do practice questions, I am able to access past tests and example questions going back several years."

"So can a computer." you said.

"I'm better company."

Gavin snorted as he listened in, shaking his head.

"Nines, why you getting up in her business? Don't you got some 001's to compile or some shit?"

Nines ignored him, eyes fixed only on you. He used his appearance and expressions to his advantage, artificially expanding his own pupils and leaning back in his chair in a way that was open and inviting. He had removed his jacket prior to your arrival and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, displaying the muscles of his arms and the broadness of his shoulders and chest more obviously. Human mating patterns were so *easy* to mimic and based on how your eyes were everywhere but on his right now, his efforts were quite effective. Your core temperature levels had risen slightly, a specific concentration noted between your thighs. An excellent sign.

You sucked a corner of your lip into your mouth as you appeared to consider the offer.

"Why the hell not?"

Gavin shot you an impetuous look.

"What? I need all the fuckin' help I can get. Might as well use the tools CyberLife saddled us with before they take over."

The words "mission accomplished" registered in Nines feed, invisible to all but him. A new objection presented itself:

Establish bond with future detective.

---

Practice was hardly something you needed. Based on your answers to the first few practice problems Nines determine you were good, very good. You combined the objectivity of academia easily with that human factor, that originality to approaching problems. It was obvious you hid these accomplishments from your fellows like Gavin, choosing to fit in more than stand out in that regard. As you sat diagonal from him at your kitchen table, eyeing over a new logic puzzle Nines sent to your tablet, he took the chance to open some files within his mind and peruse your photos.

You were also more than adequate at capturing a crime scene, there was an artistry to your attention to light and contrast, making sure every detail was preserved. This was more than just attention to detail though. Another search brought up more pleasant images, hosted on a freelance photography site under your name. The contrast of dark and light remained, both in color and subject matter, but the photos were more “light hearted” than a crime scene shoot of course.

When his attention came back to present he noted you were staring at him rather intently, tilting your head and sitting back and then forward a few times, adjusting him in the lens of your minds eye.

“Why did you want to help me?” you said, tossing down your stylus and heading to the kitchen. When you returned, you had a bottle of vodka, juice and a glass. Singular. You poured at least a double shot into the glass and chased it with orange juice. Swirling it unceremoniously you began drinking it very quickly.

“You would make a good detective.” Nines said simply, knowing that as you weren’t a direct commander, he could opt to ignore or even lie in response to certain queries.

“Gavin thinks you have a crush on me.”

“That’s not possible, I am a machine. But...” Nines paused, leaning forward slightly, “I hope we might be closer. I’d find it agreeable for you to “like” me.”

You hummed, finishing off your drink and going to pour another. Nines hand closed over the top of your glass, stopping you.

“We’re still studying, officer.”

“Thought you said you wanted me to like you?” you said with a slow smile, putting your hand over his own to move it aside. He didn’t budge, instead capturing your hand in his own and pushing it away.

“I do.”

“See, I’m not convinced, Nines.” you said, a challenge. Parameters were adjusting, fitting to the task.

O Convince

X Give Up

Choose Approach:

X Flattery

O Rational

^ Logical

"Would I be willing to assist you in passing your exam if I did not want you to have a favorable opinion of me?"

"Oh no, that I believe. It's the why, that you ain't sold me on."

X Flattery

O Rational

^ Logical

"You are a very intelligent and capable, woman. You deserve to make detective and I would consider myself lucky to work with you."

That was laying it on a bit thick, but something in his words had peaked your interest, a slow smile starting at the corner of your mouth.

"A "woman"— not an "officer"? So you can make the distinction then?"

Nines brow furrowed, slightly confused, "I am programmed to observe outward appearances and use of pronouns to establish the correct gender of a person, yes."

"There are lots of capable women officers on the force, and Gavin is a good detective too."

X Flattery

O Rational

^ Logical

"I know. I ran the probabilities. But if I were partnered with you, I would be better at completing my missions by a factor of two point six percent."

The truth at last. You sat back, grinning to yourself.

"And why would you think I'd stick it to Gavin and accept you as a partner?"

Nines paused, wording carefully, "Humans enjoy working with co-workers that they enjoy the company of. If you liked me more than Gavin, then you'd be more likely to accept such a request."

You stood, pushing the chair back as you came around the side of the table. You were close, close enough he could register that same spike in your temperature through his dermis without using a scan.

He looked up at you, purposefully expressionless.

"How were you planning on getting me to like you better?" you said, voice low, "Given your display at the office today, I think I know." You took the opportunity to take back your glass, setting it aside though as you seemed now more intent on a different kind of pursuit.

"Anyway within the confines of reason and legality." Nines answered, moving back in his chair to stand but finding himself suddenly incapable of doing so as you straddled the chair and sat down in his lap.

Nine— was not programmed for this. But he would be, in approximately .2 seconds as he downloaded the pertinent information. You leaned a forearm against his chest, resting the elbow of your other arm against him as you put your chin against your fist. You observed him with an almost casual curiosity, despite the way you sat astride him, the heat of you making his sensors spiral through several data points so fast his parameters shifted.

Engage in consensual sexual activity to solidify bond.

"You surprise me." Nines said, earning him another curious look.

"How so?"

"I never thought you'd be one to want to fuck an android."

His obscenity threw you off guard and you seemed prepared to protest, even drawing back and the shift in your weight indicating you were preparing to get back up. Instead though, Nines stood, arms bracing beneath your thighs as he pushed you up unto the surface of the table. The glass clattered, falling over and rolling off the table to land on the rug beneath with a heavy thud.

"Keep dreaming, tin-can." you said, pushing your hand flat against his chest. He made no attempt to get closer, "I only sleep with people who have a pulse."

Nines tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowed. He reached up slowly, grabbing your wrist and moving your hand a little further down on his chest. When you felt the pulse beneath, steady and strong, it was startling— the exact reaction he wanted.

"Qualifier met." Nines said, simple. Direct.

Despite yourself you huffed a laugh, "Well... fuck me."

"That is what we are discussing." Nines said.

"Too much discussing. Not enough doing." you said and the hand on the center of his chest balled into a fist in his jacket as you pulled him down, catching his lips in a biting kiss.

His LED turned from blue to red without even pausing at yellow. When you drew back, there was blue blood on your lips and the taste of thirium in both your mouths. Something in Nine's eyes sharpened, even as his lids fell half closed. He wiped the cut on his lip with his thumb, looking at the blood with vague interest before he cupped your face in his hand and smeared the blue across your chin and then up to your lips. Your tongue chased the movement and he pressed the pad of his thumb down against it almost as a reprimand.

"You're wearing too many clothes, officer. We'll need to take them off." Nines said, hands already undoing the front of your jeans. You tugged your shirt off, throwing it off into the room before straightening out your hips more so Nines could pull off your jeans in one smooth movement. The cold was a shock as you realized he'd managed to completely undress you from the waste down, your panties hem flush with the hem of your jeans as he tossed them aside.

You were left in nothing but your bra, which Nines hooked a finger in the front clasp, pulling it up a bit from your breastbone. A snap of his fingers and it was open, slipping it off your shoulders. It was not lost on you that Nines remained entirely dressed, still secured up to the neck in the high collared uniform.

"I can tell you like to misbehave," Nines said, stopping your attempt to pull him in close again, "But it's just to hide from them how you crave structure. Keep your hands down."

The immediacy in which you followed the command, setting your hands on the edge of the table, drew a half smile to the corner of his lips.

"You need direction. Someone to guide you." Nines laid his palm flat on your collarbone, slowly moving up your neck and then down, tracing the curve of your breast with the back of his knuckles. You arched your chest forward into the touch, Nines clicking his tongue scoldingly.

"Turn around, palms flat on the table. Don't move."

Something in your eyes sparkled, even as you did as you were told, however slowly you did it. Making a spectacle of yourself, swaying your hips invitingly as you bent over. Nines could barely stop himself from running his palm over your ass, squeezing. Suddenly that same hand was on your back, pushing you a little further. You gasped, the table cold on your heated skin, nipples pebbled and hard as they occasionally brushed the surface.

"This is why you would be a perfect fit... " Nines continued, nudging your legs apart with his own. He rested his hand on the cleft of your ass, spreading your vulva with his thumb, "... intelligent, loyal," he slipped his hand between your legs, cupping you, stroking your folds with his index and middle finger until you were up on your toes, trying to maneuver more pressure into the light touch, "...Obedient."

The sound of his palm connecting to your ass was loud in the silence, the cry that came from your throat even more so. You stood still again, moaning in frustration as you clawed at the table.

"Patience, officer."

"Just do it, for christ's—"

Another slap, this time it actually stung just a little, sending satisfaction in trembling waves down your spine that Nines could see with every scan. Despite what he said, he slowly slipped a finger inside, the sound so obscene with how wet you were already and so fluid that he was quick to add another.

"You're already ready for me, aren't you?" Nines said, moving faster, deeper. You had to be able to feel the warm trickle of your own fluids running down your thigh, "I know you've seen me watching you. Assessing your qualities."

His finger hooked and your body arched inward, jerking as you gasped, a moan strangled in your throat as he found that spot and pressed on it again and again. Your thighs trembled, tingling sensations collecting at the base of your spine and spreading out in a growing spanse over your body. Right when you were there, Nines stopped, taking his hand from you and wiping the fluid onto the side of your hip.

You made a noise of protest, rising up from the table, but his hand was on your back again, pushing you all the way down.

"You were happy enough to wait to take the detective exam— to make me wait. Now you wait."

It was quiet for a moment, not being able to see what Nines was doing was clearly both unsettling and arousing as he watched you wiggle, desperately trying to keep yourself still but almost coming apart with the anticipation. Nines unbuckled the front of his belt, unzipping just enough. RK900 were outfitted in every possible way, with the latest programming and technology in all aspects of human sexuality. It was effective in helping understand certain— "crimes of passion".

Nines let the head of his cock just barely brush your vulva, sliding it up and down the slick soft skin, enjoying the velvety feel of it against the sensitive modulars designed to simulate all the human sensations. Nines swallowed thickly, trying to keep his parameters clear and set while also feeling the conflicting confusion of multiple possible decisions. He settled it down to two.

Choose Approach:

X Deep Pace: Slow

O Quick Pace: Fast

"Show me how much you want me." Nines said, eyes heavy as he watched you look at him over your shoulder, bracing your hands on the table as you pushed back against him, trapping his cock between his pelvis and your ass as you bounced up on the balls of your feet, rubbing yourself against his shaft.

"Tell me you want to be mine."

This wasn't part of the mission. Why was he saying these things? Why were his biocomponents tightning— anticipating?

"Yes— I do. I do, please...pleaseplease, Nines."

Well. How could he deny you when you said such pretty things?

He aligned himself to your entrance and with a shaking sigh, sunk into you to the hilt. It was almost unbearably tight, your walls involuntarily spasming, gripping at his girth as you tried to adjust to the suddenness of his size and the feeling of delicious fullness. He took a ragged breath, pulmonary functions seemingly malfunctioning from what he could tell through the haze of his parameters, demanding, ordering he begin his approach.

Nines slipped out only slightly and then, still seated deeply inside you, he thrust forward hard and sudden. The sound of his hips against you was almost as loud as the slap, skin hitting together wetly. You whimpered, the shock of pleasure with just that faint mix of pain was enough to make your heart pound with anticipation for the next thrust. Nines drew back, controlled and methodical as he paused for a little bit longer, throwing you off each time he pounded back in. How he could possibly keep this up without loosing his mind was beyond your comprehension no doubt. Nines could feel your wetness soaking into the fabric at the front of his jeans, so smooth and hot. The parameters flashed in his mind

X CCCCCONtiN##UE P&CE O Faster

Nines gripped your upper arms, holding you down firmly as he snapped his hips forward, that perfect control slipping as he hunched over you, seating himself in as far as he could and then rocking in small tight circles. You broke out into a litany of expletives, your body moving involuntarily as you pushed back into him, moving your hips in pace with him.

"Oh fuck— oh fuckfuckfuck!!"

Your body was so warm, Nines only explanation was that he must have overheated. That was the only logical explanation for how quickly he spilled, spurts of artificial cum coating your insides with unnatural coolness. Your entire body shuddered with the force of your own orgasm, a sudden rush of fluid taking a moment to register in Nines addled mind. He'd made you squirt.

Nines took in a few unneeded breaths, finding it helped stabilize him. He released your arms and drew out carefully, watching the milky substance slip out from inside you. He used the head of his cock to push it back in, letting it drip back out around him. Nines hummed, quickly finding your discarded shirt and using it to clean himself before he tucked his softened cock back into his jeans, buckling his belt and adjusting his jacket..

"Careful." he said, noting you were righting yourself back up on unsteady legs. He pushed you to lean back on the table, using your shirt again as he kneeled down and gently wiped the mess from your legs, noting it had trailed half down your calf. He paused before wiping one trail, casting a quick look up at you before he leaned forward and swiped it up with his tongue. You huffed a laugh, euphoric and tired.

"Don't tell me you want round two already..." you said, Nines considering for a moment before deciding you were too tired for such a thing.

"No." he said, finishing up and moving into your living room where he took a blanket from the back of your sofa and wrapped it around your shoulders.

"You should hydrate and take an anti-inflammatory pain killer. You will be sore tomorrow."

"No shit." you huffed, leaning forward to rest your forehead into Nines' chest. He— did not return the touch, simply letting you use him to prop yourself up. He knew based on his downloads "aftercare" was an important aspect in any dominate, submissive sexual encounter, but part of him felt a bit ill-prepared to offer such "care".

"Get to bed." he said instead, an order that he knew you were not disinclined to follow, "You need to rest."

"You goin' back to DPD?" you said, sitting back up and gingerly covering yourself as you headed towards your bedroom, "Or... do you wanna stay? You don't have to, ya know. You ain't my first hook up, Nines."

That—

"I'll stay." Nines said, shocked at how fast he responded without consulting all his usual parameters.

You nodded, laughing to yourself at a joke he didn't understand as you headed down the dark hall. Nines looked around the room and concluded there was some additional clean up that would need to be done.

He didn't want to even begin thinking about the other maintenance this encounter would cause for him.

#lemon #rk900 x reader #dbh rk900 x reader #rk900 x female!reader #detroit become human #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit become human fanfic

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nitewrighter · 4 years

Note

So what's the...i don't know how to put it..."weider"/"eyebrow raising(?)" way to design a female robot? Something like Echo or something like say Seth from street fighter 5?

I’m not exactly sure what the question is here. Are you asking which is a better female robot design because I looked up the design for Seth and...

That’s literally just a sexy lady painted silver. I mean, yeah I can appreciate that she’s pretty beefy, but there isn’t much to indicate “robot” aside from the fact that she’s silver and has a...yin-yang... sphere... in her stomach? Echo’s the better robot design because her design at least plays around with silhouette, structure, and technological elements (such as a hologram face that can blink on and off) rather than just being.... a lady painted silver.

The problem with both designs is the fact that, generally, there is no reason to ascribe any gendered traits to a robot. They’re robots, but we, as humans also have a problem with gender bias in that, when something doesn’t have any gender traits, we tend to slot it into “male” as default. This shit happened with BB-8 in Star Wars back in 2015--BB-8 wasn’t really meant to have a gender, or there were even points where BB-8 was supposed to be a feminine-programmed-droid, but like, gender didn’t really factor in there because what was important was that BB-8 was a plucky little sidekick like a corgi or terrier so everyone defaulted to calling BB-8 a “he” to the point where it was canonically declared that BB-8 had “masculine programming.” We put gender on a ball. A BALL. That’s how weird and how ingrained “male as a default” tends to be.

So like, we want female characters and we want robots that break away from that ‘male as default’ problem, so obviously we gotta make lady robots. The big problem with this is character designers tend to treat “Woman” as an entire design point and personality unto itself. Echo is also a highly feminized robot, but I’d say her femininity is definitely more ‘abstract’ than Seth’s. Echo looks more alien with her unusual head shape, her weird blade feet, and her clearly segmented limbs, but these are also abstractions of conventional beauty standards. Big head + big eyes = youth. Delicate limbs = thin figure. Weird blade feet = feet on pointe or even high heels. It’s pivoting an entire character’s design on “Cool state of the art technology... but make it a conventionally attractive lady” and like... I mean, sure it’s an appealing character design, but it doesn’t bring a whole lot of new stuff to the table.

So like... what does a robot design that signals ‘feminine’ without falling into over-sexualized, “woman as a personality,” fembot character trope look like? In my opinion, people should look to the EXO’s from Destiny for some idea on that.

One of these is a shell-shocked man-at-arms and the other is an elegant and charismatic female cult leader. AND YOU DON’T NEED TO GIVE LAKSHMI-2 A WASP WAIST TO INDICATE SHE’S A LADY.

#echo overwatch #echo #also Lakshmi-2 is voiced by the incomparable Shohreh Aghdashloo so... honestly I'd say she's hotter than Echo

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trulycertain · 4 years

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Thoughts on the Netflix Witcher:

Not many people are tossing a coin to their Witcher, are they? Geralt still has to buy his own drinks, it seems.

Jaskier’s lyrics need, er, work, but Joey Batey has a lovely voice.

Love the wardrobe design, Yen’s in particular. It’s distinctive, not always “pretty” in that it sometimes feels like medieval experimental haute couture, and combines sexuality with hard lines. It feels very her.

I love Freya Allan’s Ciri. Allan’s a really good actress, in my opinion, with a really hard arc to carry, and also apparently show!Ciri has the same effect as games!Ciri - that of me turning into Geralt and muttering “must protect” a lot and wanting to stab anyone who tries to hurt her. Her eyes are very cool.

I think it's interesting that in the books, Yen is clearly based off Polish archetypes and the wild raven curls are part of that; in both the games and the show, it's played down. (Not least because I've seen her in other stuff and Chalotra naturally has pretty poker-straight hair, so curling that for any length of time without the curls falling out, even with a ton of product, would be a pain.)

My one issue is that I still think she looks a bit young and I would've been perfectly happy to chuck out the whole "sorceresses enchant themselves to look early twenties forever" thing, but actually... I also kind of really like the "soft-faced, soft-voiced enchantress is actually hard as nails" idea. It lets her presence speak for itself, which Chalotra does very well, and means people tend to underestimate Yen, which is also handy. I mean... I will always be frustrated by “somehow, conveniently, they look like a 22-year-old actress and a 35-or-so leading man”, but Chalotra’s work itself is good. It's different from the Yen in my head, but I like her performance and interpretation.

I like Triss, and I like seeing her here. I hope they’ll go more into their friendship. It’s been rocky at times, but I found it quite annoying how the games treated all that, as opposed to the books. This is one of those things where I’m really glad it’s adapting the books in particular.

Critical stuff, written in December, with warnings for discussions of consent and stuff:

The Last Wish is the short story where Geralt and Yen meet, with the capture of the djinn. I read it once, coming up for four years ago? now, so I'm really muzzy on memories and it might well have been like that originally. Now, knowing Sapkowski, who does pull this shit, it probably was. (I love his female characters as characters. It’s just that often, his gender worldbuilding bothers me. The two shouldn’t be different, but they often are.)

All right, so the sexual dynamics going on are... uncomfortable, and perhaps you get a bit inured to it in the books because there's just so much uncomfortable stuff, but it stands out a bit more starkly in the show, which has been better for it. (I do not like rapey canons. At all. I have no idea how I got into the Witcher; really liking the female mains and liking Slavic mythology? And the fact that the games and show were pretty good with how they treated it as part of someone's story rather than a "haha, look, so titillating" on-screen scene? And certainly, Calanthe and her people killing themselves to avoid enslavement, torture and rape is depressingly historically accurate. Anyway.)

Things I'm bothered by:

The implication that the orgy is basically sex pollen/a possible humiliation tactic, rather than her manouvering her way into circles with everyone's embarrassing secret being "we like to willingly fuck the whole village," which would also have been political humiliation. I mean, you can make a point that she's had a background of being sexually and romantically manipulated most of her adult life - look at the Istredd thing, for a start, with the rectors - and is just shrug about it all, but. It's different from Stregobor's illusion because these are real people. They all look like they've just come out of a trance and scrabble panickedly for clothes and their reputations, they look like didn't know quite where they were, and spells for that kind of thing had been established an ep or two earlier in the series.

So the first time Geralt and Yen meet, we've got non-con sex played for laughs, or at least played off as "yeah, she does that, don't worry about it" (which is fed into by Geralt's later enchantment, which I actually don't mind, humiliating him and then sending him to hang because he's in the way is somehow less objectionable to me? Maybe because i just hate non-con storylines that much, or maybe because it's less of a direct attack). And then when they meet, you've got: strong-arming him into a bath (sure, he says yes and I guess you can say he figured there'd be sex, but he seems surprised about it all), getting naked in front of him when he's already in a position where it'd be difficult/awkward to leave, the first kiss which has a pretext but was very specifically a kiss and which again, he's kind of too taken-aback/assessing to reciprocate... I mean, if all this sounds kind of OK, swap the genders; heck, even watching it at the time, some of it was pinging me as "hey, this sounds too much like rl things that have happened".

Now, one can say, "Well, he stuck around, didn't he?" - hmm, OK, but you've got the trickier things of magical intimidation at play (even before the enchantment, he knows he's dealing with a powerful sorceress who fucks with people's heads) and just "eh, I guess I'll go with the flow" that can kind of characterise Geralt. And even Witchers freeze. And you can say, "Well, she could probably tell he was attracted to her, with magical mojo if not just through observation." Aye, but dude was kinda busy and on-duty and clearly mistrustful of her, so he would probably never have acted on it - and didn't, because of all those factors. The later thank-god-we're-alive/angry sex when they actually get it together? Totally fine with that, that seems about par for the course with those two.

I also feel like the fact that Geralt, who I fondly say is the biggest horndog in Temeria a lot of the time and will rarely turn down a bit of afternoon delight, doesn't make a move and stays questioning her, albeit amusedly, says a lot about where their relationship is at that point and the fact he's still trying to figure her out. (Not that that implies he's not interested; quite the opposite, mistrustful boffing is kind of a thing he does at times, and heck, look at Renfri.) And on Yen's part, it's definitely more of a power play than needing to save bathwater (I mean, she's pretty rich).

Now, as said, the original story was prob at least a bit like this, because Sapkowski *eyeroll*, but considering the amount they changed (Istredd's entire backstory! A whole bunch of Yen’s! Yennefer's transformation! A bunch of other things), they could've probably adjusted this and/or at least put a different lens on it in the script. It's also frustrating because a lot of people I've seen make this argument are using it for "Yen is such a bitch, Geralt deserves better, I hate her." I'm not interested in char-bashing. No, I love games!Yen (one of my favourite characters in... anything) and what of books!Yen I've read, and I really enjoy Chalotra's version... aside from these scenes.

And aye, one can say that Geralt/Yen is about two people who've been shaped by a truly awful world learning to be better and of course they have their flaws (uh, completely ignoring consent is a pretty darn large one), but it's definitely played as intriguing/romantic/casual mischief.

Update, as of January, when I went back to it:

I literally love every single other scene with her. Hmm. Also, I’ve spoken to a couple of people about this, and neither one of them had it ping to them as coercion. Perhaps I’m just overthinking things or not being good at romance storylines again. Just... not sure, I guess. Nothing else bothered me. Is this my books knowledge being wonky? Am I being daft? If anyone else has thoughts, I’d be glad to hear them.

#tru watches the witcher #netflix witcher critical

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beautheexpositor · 5 years

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My Nerdy Best friends

I wrote an essay for one of my writing classes on something that changed my life, and for me it was about critical role. Here is an abridged version, because I feel like it could resonate or help a lot of people struggling how I have.

When everything is dark, sometimes it’s hard to find a light. For me, the light came from a very unexpected and seemingly trivial place, the show Critical Role. Now, it may seem like just a silly show where “a bunch of nerdy ass voice actors sit around and play Dungeons and Dragons,” but for me and so many other people, it has been a life saving experience (Mercer). It entered my life at just the right time, and helped my brother and me more than we could have ever imagined.

To understand my position at a life changing point, it’s also important to know that my brother, Nate, is the person who introduced me to Critical Role. My brother is 6 years older than me, an absolute dork, a kind and loving person, and severely agoraphobic. Over six years ago, he got in a serious car accident on his way to move into college that stopped him in his tracks. He had always had anxiety, but the accident left him more afraid than before. He stopped driving, which eventually turned into him stopping going out, which eventually turned into him not even stepping foot into the dangerous world. His only way of communication with others for the last six years has been video games, social media, chat rooms, and Twitch streams. As his anxiety got worse, it was harder for him to survive. Aside from the friends he had made online, he had nothing, and felt like a failure. Getting better seemed out of the question for a long time, and there were many times when we worried we’d lose him. Him finding Critical Role helped him find new friends, many of whom understood his situation more than the friends he’d had before. Some even started to come over and spend time with him. He got so excited about it, and spread the word to me.

Around six months ago, I got out of the second of back to back long term relationships. While this relationship had been overall healthy, the one before it was not. My ex girlfriend was emotionally manipulative and very controlling, and she had taken a lot from me. She stomped out any ounce of self expression I had, so long as it didn't fit her image of what her S/O should be. I stopped drawing, watching cartoons, playing Dungeons and Dragons, and anything else that she teased or mocked me for. Starting my next relationship immediately after one that damaged me so heavily didn’t allow me time to grow or readjust to who I was, so I continued the unhealthy mindset of living fully for another person. During my second relationship, my new girlfriend and my brother both attempted to get me back into the things I used to love, but it was a difficult transition to make when I didn’t know who I was. It took a long time for any of it to seem possible, and that all started with watching and listening to shows again. When the second break up happened, I felt shattered and empty. Unsure how I was going to put the pieces of myself together again, I reached out to my family and the friends I still had, and I dove myself back into the world of fantasy and whimsy that I had spent too long avoiding.

I was alone in an all new city, with most of my old friends many miles away. I was recovering from a pretty serious and life threatening disease, worrying about the bills and repercussions, and unable to talk to the person I had kept by my side for so long. On days when I couldn’t move, or days when I had nothing to do, escapism was the only way I knew how to deal with the depression and anxiety I was feeling. Without escapism, I only had my thoughts- and those thoughts were telling me I shouldn't even be alive. To silence those thoughts on the bad days, I started watching campaign one on top of my weekly episodes with the Mighty Nein. I started posting about it on social media, and even started drawing again. It allowed me to meet new people, and brought my closer to my brother than I had been in over five years.

What started as escapism became genuine passion for something. Passion for drawing, cosplay, passion for gaming and writing. When I would have days where I felt hopeless, and considered the darkest possibilities for the first time in years, I would turn on episodes, or interviews with the cast. It made me feel surrounded by friends, even if I had never met them. The theme song in the new introduction opens up with the line “The adventure begins, we were always beside you. Your nerdy best friends, and the DM to guide you,” and those lines really resonated with me (Riegel Bailey et al). These people may not know me, but they are my friends. They saved me on multiple occasions from sleepless nights, or days alone in bed with my pain- whether those be physical or emotional. Not only that, but they also allowed me to meet new people. A group of wonderful fans and supporters called the Critters. Never in my life have I been in a group as supportive and enthusiastic to reach out and help others than the critters. Through this show, I got a new group of friends to play Tabletop Games with in Chicago. Through this show, I’ve met groups of cosplayers to go to conventions with and take photos with. Through this show, I’ve met fellow artists who have encouraged me to keep drawing, even if I felt behind. Through this show, I’ve rekindled a relationship with my brother after years of feeling somewhat estranged. Through this show, I've found a family. Later on, it would even be a key factor in Nate going to get help and conquer his agoraphobia.

The things that change our lives can come in many forms. They can appear in the form of a person, a song, a moment, an opportunity, or something totally and completely unexpected. For me, it was Critical Role. If this show hadn’t entered my life, I’m not sure where I would be. Quite honestly, I’m not even sure I’d be alive. Certainly, I wouldn’t being drawing, interacting, writing, and cosplaying again. Our own identity is so important, and I lost that completely because of the circumstances I fell into. Critical Role gave me hope. It gave me a place to go, and a way to hone my creativity and passion. And I know I’m not the only one. I’ve met hundreds of critters who share similar stories, whose lives were changed greatly because of those 8 nerdy voice actors. It may seem trivial or insignificant to those who don’t understand, but without it I wouldn’t be the person I am. My brother wouldn’t have sought out help, I would have never gotten close to him again, I wouldn’t have had a creative outlet, I wouldn’t have started playing D&D again. This show has allowed me to be myself again; that’s about as life changing as it gets.

TLDR: After an unhealthy, manipulative relationship I lost a lot of my identity. My brother was also going through very tough shit, including severe agoraphobia. He found and introduced me to critical role right before I went through another huge breakup and the beginnings of recovery from many severe physical illnesses. The show saved me, and helped me find new friends and passions that have gotten me back into the things I loved before everything happened. The show kept me alive, and the amazing other people who enjoy it helped me find friends and believe in myself. Thanks Critical Role, and the wonderful other people who enjoy it.

If you're struggling through any of the things I mentioned, or anything at all- whether that be money, depression, anxiety, lack of creativity, abuse, sexuality or gender identity, stress, or whatever else, know there is always a place where you can find home. I found it here, and there's always room for more critters! Don't give up hope, don't quit your passions, always find what brings you joy and cling to it. Life is short and happiness is hard to find in dark places, but I promise there's a place for you. 💙 -K

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rewrite-the-wrongs · 4 years

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introductions / howdy, pardner

My first short story was about a fishboy and his human best friend. They battled a mutant piranha (whose name I think may have been Mutant Piranha, such was the monumental daring of my creative endeavor) and his army, who were out to destroy a mountain that held a whole planet together. The boys won singlehandedly, because scale was apparently a bit of a mystery to me.

This was the second grade. My teacher--who held me every day as I cried for weeks, confused and miserable and stranded in the throes of my parents’ divorce--understood before I did that I create to a ploddingly slow and steady drumbeat. A sentence is always so much more in my head than I’m able to let out, at first; I have to pore over it again and again, fleshing and flourishing (and often correcting) it, the same way I often have to reread paragraphs or pages or whole books to truly capture their meaning. In a word processor, this back-and-forth is as easily said as it is done; on double-wide ruled paper with dashed-line handwriting guides, the task is magnitudes more time-consuming, especially for somebody as messy as I am. So, while nearly everybody else played at recess on the sandlot and the jungle gym around us, a select few stragglers laid our reading folders on our laps and finished our stories.

My villain, that dastardly Mutant Piranha, found himself in prison at the story’s close. Awaiting trial, I guess; I never ventured that far ahead, seeing the big fishy bastard for a coward. “When no one was looking, he stabbed himself.” That’s the last line, stuck in my memory, not for its own sake, but for my poor teacher’s horrified face as she read my final draft there on the playground.

A mom volunteered to type up the class’ stories and get them printed and bound. For years afterward I reread that collection, always proud to have written the second-longest piece therein. I felt the weight of the pages, inhaled the tiny but acrid breeze that came from rapidly leafing through them. Knew it was a whole smattering of worlds inside, that one of those worlds was wholly mine, and I had the power to show it to people however I wished. Yes, I thought, I want this.

I’ve been introduced to writing many times over, by many people. Don’t get me wrong--I nightowled the first several chapters to many half-baked novel concepts all through my youth. But teachers have a way of showing a thing to you from new angles.

The first person to impact me as such was a high school teacher who was essentially given carte-blanche to construct a creative writing workshop in the English curriculum. The first semester was structured--you practiced poems, short fiction, humor and essay writing, drama, the gamut. Every semester after, the carte-blanche was passed on: A single assignment due a week, each a single draft of a poem or a minimum of two pages’ worth of prose. Forty-five minutes a day to work, and of course free time at home. By the time I graduated, I’d finagled my schedule such that I was spending two periods a day in the computer lab, and several hours after school every day working the literary arts magazine before I went home to get the rest of my homework out of the way and write some more..

My next big influence came in the form of a pair of writers who taught fiction at my university, a married couple. One had me print stories and literally, physically cut them up section-by-section as a method of reworking chronologies. Told me stories happened like engines or clocks or programs--pieces that meshed differently depending on how they were put together, rules that held each other in place. The other showed boundless confidence in me, listened happily to some older students who recommended I be brought on board for a national arts mag. They both encouraged me toward grad school, but toward the end of my junior year I began to stumble, and by senior year I was, to be frank, a drunken asshole. Time I could be bothered to set aside for writing began to dwindle. I limped through the editorship with the help of my extremely talented, utterly more-than-worthy successor--and come to think of it, I’ve never truly thanked her. Maybe I’ll send her that message, now that I’m feeling more myself.

On feeling more myself:

That drunken rage was brought on by a myriad list of factors, the primary ones being 1) I am the child of recovering alcoholics, and our inherited family trauma runs deep, 2) An assault that will likely be mentioned no further from hereon in, as I have reached a solid level of catharsis about it, 3) Some toxic-ass relationship issues, and 4) I was a massive egg and had no idea (or, really, I had some idea, just not the language or understanding or even the proper empathy to eloquently and effectively explore it).

I had a recent relapse with drinking, technically--a mimosa at Christmas breakfast at my partner’s parents’ home--but I’m not honestly sure I can call it a legitimate relapse. I’m not in any official self-help group, I’ve never engaged in the twelve steps or a professional rehabilitation. I had a very wonderful therapist for a few years but reached a point at which I could not pay her any longer and we parted ways--I miss her dearly, as she truly became my friend and confidante; she was the first person I came out to, and very well-equipped to handle it, lucky for me--but I’m still on behavioral medication. That tiny smidgen of alcohol pushed my antidepressants right out of my brain, and I became terribly anxious and angry and sad all at once, and briefly lashed out during a conversation with my partner behind closed doors. Not nearly the lashing out I’ve released in the now-distant past--more on that maybe-never, but who knows, as I am obviously a chronic over-sharer.

Frankly, I don’t deserve my partner. She endured my past abuses, told me to my face I had to be better, and found it in herself to wait for me to grow. She’s endlessly and tirelessly supportive of me. She sat with me to help me maintain the nerve to start this blog tonight. I came out to her as a trans woman just under a year ago, now, and I’m happier than ever, and we communicate better than ever. Our relationship is, bar-none, the healthiest and stablest and happiest I’ve ever been in.

So, naturally, I apologized fairly quickly at Christmas, and continuing where I’d left off at two and a half years, decided I’m still solid without booze.

If we’re all being honest, though (and I’m doing my best to be one hundred percent honest, here, though I will absolutely be censoring names because no shit), I still smoke way too much fuckin’ weed. High as balls, right now. 420 blaze it, all day erryday, bruh. That self-medicated ADHD life. I should be on Adderall and not antidepressants, probably, but it’s been a while since an appointment and psychiatrists are expensive, so I’m at where I’m at for now. Sativas help a lot. It helps with the dysphoria, too.

I don’t have a legal diagnosis for gender dysphoria, but tell that to my extreme urge to both be in and have a vagina. I’m making little changes--my hair, an outfit at a time, no longer policing how I walk or run or how much emphasis I put on S sounds. If I manage to come out to my parents sometime soon--and it feels like that moment is closer every day--maybe I’ll tell y’all my real, full chosen name. For right now, call me Easy.

Anyhow. My goals here are pretty simple:

1) Share words, both those by people I like/admire/sometimes know! and occasionally words I’ve made that I like. See the above screenshot from my notes app. Steal some words if you want, but if you manage to make money off some of mine, holler at ya gurl’s Venmo, yeah?

2) Discuss words, how they work, and how we create them, use them, engage with them, and ultimately make art of them. I am not a professional linguist, but I went to undergrad for creative writing, so, hey, I’ll have opinions and do my best to back them up with ideas from people smarter than I am.

3) Books! Read them, revisit them, quote them, talk about them, sometimes maybe even review them, if I’m feeling particularly bold. No writer can exist in a vacuum, and any writer who insists they don’t like to read is either a) dyslexic and prefers audiobooks or b) in serious need of switching to a communications major (no shade, but also definitely a little shade @corporate journalism).

5) I added this last, but I feel it’s less important than 4 and does not deserve bookend status, and I am verbose but incredibly lazy, so here I am, fucking with the system. Anyway: Art! Music! Video games! I fucking love them. I’ll talk about them, sometimes, too. Maybe I’ll finally do some of the ekphrastic work I’ve felt rattling around in my brain for a while now. Jade Cocoon 2′s Water Wormhole Forest, looking right the fuck at you.

6) Ah, shit, I did it again. Oh well. Last-but-not-last: This is obviously, in some ways, a diary, or a massive personal essay. I will sometimes discuss people, places, or experiences that have informed my work just the same as other people’s art has.

4) Be an unabashed and open Trans woman. TERFs, transphobes, ill-informed biological essentialists not permitted. Come at me and my girldick and prepare to be dunked on and subsequently shown the door via a swift and painful steel-toed kick in the ass. Everybody who doesn’t suck, if I screw up on any matter of socio-ethics or respect for diversity, please feel free to correct me.

Punk’s dead, but we’re a generation of motherfucking necromancers. Be gay, do crime, fight the patriarchy, and fart when you gotta. May the Great Old Ones select you to ascend to a higher plane and learn the terrible truths of existence.

Much love--

Easy

#writers #writing #creative writing #trans #trans woman #fuck TERFs #writing about writing #writer #my writing #diary

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dearmrsbitch · 5 years

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March 22, 2019 - Do fat people know they’re fat? Really?

Q. Delicate workplace question: I am a manager of a small team at my workplace. My industry is heavily male-dominated, and my team has one other woman on it besides me. My team member “Claudia” is professional, friendly, and intelligent. I have no qualms about entrusting her with important, time-sensitive tasks, and do so with great success.

Claudia was always very large and has gained a substantial amount of weight in the past three to four years. At this point, I’m quite sure she’d be classified as morbidly obese. Aside from being concerned for her health, I know for a fact that her weight has held her career back. Directors above me are reluctant to place her in a more client-facing role, as they believe it would appear unprofessional. I truly want the best for her and would hate to see her impeded by something so easily fixable. Is there a way to address this? Should I even try?

Dear Manager,

You know what? Thank god for you. Thank god for people like you going around and pointing out everyone else’s flaws for them, to them directly, and putting even more doubts in the minds of those of us who do not conform to the societal expectations of beauty - because media is really falling behind with this whole “body acceptance” movement.

I mean, hell, how would I know I have big tits if men didn’t ask to touch them when I’m trying to order coffee? I am simply just too dumb to know how I look, I don’t have mirrors in my home or maybe I am a vampire and can’t see myself in mirrors - I mean, who the fuck knows, right?

Should I go on? Do ya get the message? You seem kinda dense, so I dragged it out for you.

My guess is that you’re a dude who’s never had to live with the near constant messaging that women get in text or subtext that our entire worth depends on how much fat is in our ass/tits as opposed to fat in our belly and arms.

Claudia already knows that if she is passed over unfairly, her weight will probably be an unfair factor if the promoting manager is male. She has probably internalized the message that she’s worthless because of her weight when people treat her like shit for no good reason. Like most women in general, she’s probably used to be underappreciated and undervalued just for her gender and now with her weight slapped on top of it by an unfair patriarchal structure that fucks her over literally and figuratively by both being born a woman and then not having one of the approved appearances judged only on “fuckability” instead of actual ability.

Back when I worked at McDonalds for a summer, my boss put all the employees he deemed overweight in the back. The order, he said, came from the company idea that overweight employees who were viewed by the public would make the message that the food makes you fat and therefore, they’d order less. Then, those of us like me who weren’t overweight, were banned from buying salads as our meals and were asked to eat burgers and eat them in the front of the house so we could be seen being skinny with a BigMac. I was sexually harassed a lot. Everything fucking sucked.

Now, there’s two ways to look at this.

1. That’s good policy to sell more food, I understand this. Because ‘merica and capitalism!

2. What the ever loving fuck? McDonalds does make you fat (as does sitting in an office all day, dude, like Claudia is doing) and does dehumanizing the employees really stop that? Does it make sense that making half your staff uncomfortable and the other half feel unloved is really the best way to run a business? Unhappy people don’t do good work, why should they? There’s only so much punishment someone can take before the money ain’t enough.

If you think it’s number 1, I mean, you’re a capitalist and probably a pig and fuck right off my blog here. The correct answer is 2.

Workers are people too, you know. Claudia is a human with feelings and the ability to connect with clients and sell your product.

I have never met someone trying to help me, or sell me something, etc, where I cared about their weight, or viewed their weight as an issue in relationship with me. Fat does not make someone unable to take a phone call, or ship a product in time, etc. Fat is also not something we can all control on a whim. You can tell Claudia, but what if she can’t, or doesn’t want to, lose the weight. You gonna put Slim Jim, the big idiot, in charge of her client facing accounts because his slim waist is gonna be a better salesperson? My bellybutton don’t talk - does yours?

In my personal experience, I tend to find that people who are entirely looks focused, tend to be less hard workers than the nons because they are slightly used to getting by on their looks or getting the value of a doubt because someone lets them off just in case they might get to fuck them in the future, then you’re trapped and the employee is trapped like they’re being tricked for sales - and that’s some bullshit too. I don’t know about you, but in my opinion the people facing the clients should be a diverse group that you can move in and out of deals depending on their strengths and weaknesses and the clients themselves. A team who can say, “Hey, Jim, you take this guy, Claudia, this woman, and Tina, this guy is yours” based on who would be best where. Last I checked, no IQ test, no diploma, says on it - “Graduated with an MBA, but not expected to perform well due to being over 200 lbs - despite Magna Cum Laude grades.”

Maybe the problem is your interfacing with clients. I dunno. Maybe you’re not effectively managing your resources and staff and focusing in how your staff looks because it’s easier than doing some constructive shit. Stop feeding prejudice under the guise of it being about “their personal growth.”

Mrs. Bitch

#dearmrsbitch #fat #fat people #fat shaming #dear prudie

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salavante · 5 years

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Aesop 29 or the Helmsman

(I’ve drawn his floating head a lot, so here’s him with his hood up, which I draw less) Also formal apology because I think like maybe no more than four people who follow me play Destiny, so a couple things may sound a little esoteric. I’d suggest checking out the Ishtar Collective (links to offsite) if I refer to something unfamiliar.

Full Name: Aesop-29

Gender and Sexuality: Male and Homosexual.

Pronouns: He/Him.

Ethnicity/Species: Exo, from the little crop of Destiny fancharacters that I have.

Birthplace and Birthdate: Unknown factor. But Aesop was found by his Ghost in the middle of nowhere, in a southwestern state that I have not chosen yet. Arizona, Texas, Colorado and Southern California are all candidates. Aesop has just a little bit of a Texan accent.

Guilty Pleasures: Aesop is trying to learn how to play guitar and is really bad at it, making him very shy and nervous about his attempts. Similarly, Aesop enjoys singing, but usually does it when no one else is around - because no one else has really heard him sing before, it is a well kept secret between him and his Ghost that he’s actually pretty good. I personally like to keep the list of music that he likes to the 50’s-60’s bracket to match the kind of retrofuturistic style that the Golden Age tech in Destiny has. We the viewer read it as being ‘old’, even if it’s much, MUCH older than we realize because the setting is far future. That’s really all that matters, that we recognize it as being antiquated. His favorite of the very small pool of albums he has access to are Marty Robbins’ “Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs” and Nancy Sinatra’s “Boots” and “Sugar”. Sojourn teases him about it and has thusly introduced him to the feeling of shame. He also likes drinking alcohol even if it doesn’t actually make him drunk. Sometimes he does it out of spite. Someone you don’t like? Pound his drink right in front of him and walk away.

Phobias: Aesop’s kinda agoraphobic - he feels trapped and panicked in enclosed areas with lots of people, can be overstimulated by large groups of people talking/making a lot of noise. This makes him mostly useless in large-scale conflicts. He has managed to curb some of this by being accompanied by Sojourn or Calico to areas or situations that are high risk (whether that means a combat scenario or just going to The City), but this can get squirrely because Calico doesn’t have a ghost anymore and if killed would die permanently, and Sojourn has a tendency to get worked up in a fight and leave him behind on accident. If everything goes well though, Aesop is perfectly functional fighting in the small group that is his fireteam - himself, Sojourn (exo warlock) and King (human titan). His ghost, Chanticleer, can also sometimes talk him down if he’s starting to spin up into a panic attack. It’s something that he wants to fix, but, existing within the confines of your anxiety is a cold comfort that he indulges in. In general, he’s a very anxious person with a lot of existential dread, but he puts on a clownish, brazen act and hopes people don’t notice.

What They Would Be Famous For: Honestly, probably something very mundane, like breaking a dopey Guinness-style record or something like that. The entire point of Aesop is that he is very average in his skills in a world of blisteringly powerful space wizards and the like. I find his challenges are more about what goals he sets for himself and if those goals conflict with the status quo. Does his worth need be defined by how good he is at killing things vs. is the pursuit of personal wellness and happiness selfish in the context of a world fighting for its survival. Can these things coexist. etc.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Probably something relatively benign done for the sake of pulling a dangerous stunt in the name of fun or looking cool. If he was a regular ass human in a normal modern setting, probably taking a nice vintage car for a joyride.

OC You Ship Them With: Aesop will have a love interest in the comic canon, but I’m gonna keep that under my hat for awhile yet. It’s not Cayde though, Cayde is dad. If Amanda Holliday was a man, he’d be utterly and entirely in love, but, alas. He’s still infatuated with her platonically though, and thinks she has pretty much the coolest job in the world. A promise of visiting her is a good way to entice him into going to The City.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: When death is not a factor, this becomes less of an issue, hah. Aesop and his bff Sojourn have killed each other a number of times in training, to an almost nonchalant degree. Aesop has also been killed much more in training, by his fireteam’s resident titan, King. Aesop will also find a rival in a local Fallen pike gang, the leader of which has the placeholder name of Easy Rider. I also have a Cabal villain I am throwing around and trying to decide if they’ll stick, but I need to do a lot more work and research on that. They’re my least favorite enemy type mechanically, but I think they could make perfectly acceptable antagonists in a narrative.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Aesop does not read. He can, he just doesn’t. I think maybe, MAYBE, someone could get him to read comic books, but those aren’t very sturdy and I feel like the amount of intact physical copies at this point would be almost nothing. The pool of movies and media that he has available to him are very sparse, but he absolutely drowns himself in spaghetti westerns, and would probably also like trashy action movies if they were available to him. I also think he would like Grease, HAHA. It has cars and guys in leather jackets singing in it. He’d also probably like any kind of rustic, western themed musical. And anything with cars in it would have his immediate interest no matter how bad it is, but he’d zone out in any parts he doesn’t like.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: To be honest I think most of the time, movies are a little too long for him and lose his interest partway through. He has a really short attention span and anything too long, complicated or artsy will lose him and he’ll start being fidgety and chatty and start making his boredom everyone else’s problem. Even if there’s a movie he likes, if there’s a part that’s boring to him, he zones out. He probably watches the same 2-3 movies over and over again, which is fine because his available library of media is probably really small. I like to think that they probably have movies in some kind of archive that they put up publicly in The City every once in awhile, like they have a projector that puts it on the side of a building and people just bring chairs and shit. Aesop has an aforementioned fear of crowds but he probably does some hunter parkour bullshit and perches somewhere at a healthy distance to watch from afar, as long as it’s something he thinks he would like. If he doesn’t he gets up and leaves.

Talents and/or Powers: Aesop seems to have an interest in vehicles, but due to a bet with his mentor, Calico, he has not actually been taught how to drive a Sparrow and so pines for them from afar. As said, he’s learning how to play an instrument, and if we want to be technical, is a Gunslinger speced Hunter with the Golden Gun super. He is very bad at being stealthy, as he is very impatient and is also a little bigger than the average exo. He’s just kinda tall and wide and tends to clunk around. If his Ghost Chanticleer wasn’t as clever as she was, Aesop would probably be perma-dead by now.

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s kind of a dumbass and a space cadet but has the potential to be very sweet, and the people he cares about, he latches on to really hard. Similarly, when set to a task he cares about, he does not quit. Unfortunately, many of his goals are unresolved, but it does not mean that he will stop trying. If he were to, say, become romantically interested in someone, he would go to great lengths to connect with him, even if it meant doing things Aesop himself may not like. In specific circumstances, Aesop may find that he has a great capacity for nurturing and bringing out the best in other people, a talent Aesop himself undervalues. Though he’s not all that intelligent, Aesop is very reflective and existentially inquisitive, and thinks about a lot of big picture stuff that other people might push aside in an era of crisis. Though he may not understand science or the way the world works in a mechanical sense, he is awed by it, and is a great appreciator of natural beauty. He’d cry at a particularly beautiful sunrise, if he could cry. I’d say he could be described as having a romantic soul.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: To be honest, Aesop has trouble establishing empathy with people he doesn’t know very well, and so is less invested in Earth’s plight than he probably should be (it would not be hard for Dead Orbit to sway him to their views). This makes some people think that he doesn’t take his charge seriously, and they also usually assume that he’s a slacker because he’s plateaued in his abilities so early. Really, Aesop is acutely socially anxious, can have panic attacks in large crowds, and generally prefers to stay away from The City unless he needs to go there, and so has a big emotional disconnect from it. Calico and Chanticleer have tried to get him more accustomed to groups, but has been thusfar mostly unsuccessful. His insecurity and anxiety also cause him to pull odd, dangerous stunts to prove his worth, making him unreliable and impulsive. He can bungle social interactions rather spectacularly, and is easily goaded into doing really stupid shit. Really, he is a person who may just be “too much” for some.

How They Change: Oooooghhh….I can’t talk about this. I forgot how frustrating it is to not be able to talk about things because you’re going to make a comic out of it. Suffice it to say he’s gonna change a lot.

Why You Love Them: I think Aesop encapsulates a lot of anxieties I have post-college. Aesop is a person in transition who is unsure of his future, knowing only that he can’t quit now, because quitting means failure and failure means death. Because he is in transition, he is anxious about forming relationships with people, worried that either he will be left behind by them, or that they won’t like him when he’s “finished” becoming a person. I think he has a complex relationship with his personhood and sense of self. I dunno, I think that’s an interesting anxiety for a protagonist to have. I am also interested to see what Aesop will end up contributing to his society/organization and his interpersonal relationships, and if he’ll be happy with it. I’ve put a lot of work into him, the ‘original Aesop’ I had in mind might as well be a completely different character now. Aesop was originally a little cameo that I did in our TTRPG game, Godslaughter, because my boyfriend had put a dunmer cameo character into our game and I wanted to return the favor. Then he made a sheet for him. Then I decided to keep him around, then I decided to play Destiny 2, then I decided I loved it, lol. There is still a version of Aesop in the TTRPG but he is so incredibly different, they may as well be different characters. We refer to him as “Bad Aesop” but should probably call him something more dignified (we won’t).

#solrika

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