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browneyedmissy · 4 years

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JV Childhood: Part I

Summary: Jackie wished they would all just stop staring.

Author's Note: So this is the first part in my mini anthology for Open Heart. I've been saying a lot that we need to be telling the stories all the characters who are BIPOC because there is so much depth to those stories to explore. This first part of Jackie's childhood and part two is her adolescent years, up through high school.

Day Two of @choicescocappreciationweek!

Thanks goes out to @somewillwin. I asked her some of her headcanons for Jackie and I used it to help me write!

Her first experience of true hate was when she was nine.

She remembered her parents whispering in the living room, her mother’s voice trembling as Jackie sat in the living room with her siblings, partly distracted by the cartoons on the TV.

She hadn't really understood why her mother was so stressed out at the time. Her teachers had the same nervous energy and when she went down to their family store, all of the customers were walking with their head down. Even their employee Tom's smile did not quite meet his eyes and he kept glancing at the TV which had been playing the news.

“Jaikalina, Avi.”

She looked up from the table where she was finishing her homework to see her mother with her purse in her hand.

“I'm going to lock the door and go to the store. You're not allowed to open it for anyone, alright? Avi, you're in charge. Dev and Anika are both asleep."

“Isn’t Tom working?”

“He quit, Jaikalina.” She pursed her lips at her daughter, finding the right words in her head. “It’s… complicated but he’s scared. And I don’t blame him.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain later, beta.” Her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead before shrugging on her coat. “I’ll be back.”

Avi watched their mother go with a scowl on his face.

"Tom quit because he doesn't want to be associated with us. Don't let her sugarcoat it for you." He said cooly to Jackie. She turned to him in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

He looked at his little sister with a look of annoyance and a little bit of fear?

"It means that life is going to be different for us, behan. You'll see it soon enough." He went to his room and slammed the door behind him without another word.

Jackie was sitting on the couch when her mother finally got home. Avi hadn't come down the rest of the night and after finishing her homework Jackie had turned on TV to distract herself.

“You’re still awake, beta.” She said in surprise.

“Yes. And you told me you would explain later. It’s later now.”

In the dim light, Jackie could see the exhaustion in her mother’s still beautiful face. She gave her a sad smile before gesturing to the dining table. Jackie hopped down and sat across her mother who was focused on a spot on the table.

“You’ve always been straight to the point.” Her mother said sadly. “And I suppose you’re old enough to hear this and I want you to hear it from me before anyone else. Tom was scared because of the things that have been happening to our neighbors and people like us. Do you remember when the airplanes crashed? Well, the men who did it were of Islam and they didn’t like a lot of what America was doing.”

She thought about the moment she saw the planes hit the towers. “But those people are all innocent. And we didn’t do anything. The people who did that are not even our people.”

"But we look enough like them."

She frowned, remembering how her friend Vera had missed a few days of school.

"They hate us because of how we look." Her mother sighed. "We look like the enemy to them."

"That's not fair."

Her mother gave her a weary smile. "No, it's not. But our safety is most important, Jaikalina. I need you to go by your American names for now."

Jackie frowned.

"For how long, maan?"

Her mother didn't answer.

She remembered leaving the town about a year later. Despite having better prices and better variety than a lot of the other convenience stores, there had been less and less people coming in. It was mostly her parents' friends stopping by at one point but when it was declared that the country had gone to war, they were afraid too.

Avi had found himself getting trouble with the school. She couldn't understand why he had been so angry since that night but their parents had agreed that they needed new scenery.

So she found herself in a new place, right after the new year. Her father had found accounting work until they could afford to rent a storefront and her mother was working a secretarial job for a local nonprofit.

She felt the eyes of her classmates on her and she nervously tugged at her skirt in her new 5th grade classroom. Her mother had insisted that she dress proper for her first day of her new school and she felt like one of those kids at a snobby rich private school.

"This is Jaikalina-"

"I go by Jackie, actually." She corrected her teacher, remembering what her mother had said. Her classmates stared at her and one of them raised her hand.

"Where are you from?"

"We- we moved here from New Jersey-"

"No, but where are you actually from?"

She stared at the girl for a moment, unsure how to answer that question. Their teacher gave the girl a look and she put her hand down.

"We don't ask people questions like that, Hannah."

"Yes, teacher." Hannah said with a sacharrine smile. "I'm sorry for being rude, Jackie."

Jackie suddenly realized why her brother got into fights. She stood there frozen for a moment, before her teacher directed her to her seat and she stared blankly at the chalkboard.

She got her lunch from her backpack after morning classes and followed the rest of her classmates to the lunch tables. Jackie sat down at a table and pulled out leftovers from the night before.

"I don't want to sit next to her." Hannah, the girl from before said in a loud voice. "Her food smells and my parents say that people who look like her are terrorists."

Terrorist.

She had heard that word coming from the TV, describing the men who had flown the planes into the towers. She stared at the girl who had used the word and was shocked to see the amount of hate in her eyes.

She simultaneously wanted to cry and scream as the eyes of her classmates turned to them. There were pitying looks in some of their faces but none of them seemed to be willing to say anything. She turned back to Hannah who had a confident smirk on her face and Jackie had the urge to slap it off.

Then, a jolt of fear trickled through her bones.

If she hit her, will they label her as a terrorist? Would she get in trouble like Avi and be labeled a bad kid?

"Well, people who say things like you do because of the color of my skin are bullies." Jackie finally said. "And probably racist too."

There was an oooh from one of the other students and a few of them cheered. Hannah narrowed her eyes.

"You better watch yourselves around this one. She'll backstab you for her country." She retorted as she walked away.

Her country? She was born here, in the United States…

She was still thinking about it when she got home with her brother and younger siblings later that day. Her brother let out a big sigh and dropped his backpack on the ground before plopping on the couch. Jackie looked at him, her backpack still on.

"I think I finally understand why you got into those fights, bhai." Jackie said.

Avi looked at her with a wry smile. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hoped you'd be spared that a little longer."

Jackie sat down on the couch next to him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"The people at my school here- they put me in some of the 'lower' classes because they saw my old record. The kids in my class are mostly like us. I think the only black and Hispanic kids are in my class but they get it. They get the stuff we're going through."

"It's not fair."

"Naw, it's not behan. It will probably never be fair for us." Avi sighed. "I just hope that you'll be able to do better than I will. It's too late for me."

Jackie frowned. "You're only in high school."

"Yeah, I'm already in high school. It's going to be hard for me to get into college when the classes I'm taking aren't considered rigorous. I was never as into school as you were anyways. I'll probably go to community college for a while and then find a job. You though, Jaks, have time and you're smarter than I am."

"I can't believe your path is basically decided by the time you're 15."

He let out a humorless laugh. "A lot of your path is decided before you're even born."

"Jackie, wait. I want you to take this letter to your parents."

She froze, eyeing her teacher warily. She had mostly kept her head down in school, ignoring Hannah and focusing on her schoolwork. She didn't really have any friends, perse but she didn't mind. She had found a renewed interest in reading and instead of playing with her classmates, she would find a tree to sit and read at.

"I didn't do anything." She denied immediately, crossing her arms. Her teacher looked at her in surprise and her face twitched into a sad smile.

"I know, sweetheart. Just give this to them, okay?"

Jackie stared at the envelope and before grabbing it, stuffing it haphazardly into her backpack. When she got home, she slapped the letter on the table.

"What's this, behan?" Avi asked curiously from the kitchen. He had heated up some of the samosas from dinner the night before and was snacking on one as Jackie dropped her bag on the table.

"Something for mom and dad. Teacher wants me to give it to them."

Her brother took the envelope and opened it up. Scanning the letter, he looked up at his sister with a grin.

"Your teacher wants you to enter the advanced classes when you go to junior high. You have to take a test and if you pass, you can take them."

Jackie's face lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah." He ruffled her head. "I'm proud of you, Jaks."

"You'll be okay without me."

Jackie looked up at her brother. The summer before she went into junior high, he took a few classes over the summer and when school started again his grades had been much better than before.

So much so that when he graduated high school two years later, he had surprised everyone by telling them he was moving away and starting college in the fall. He had gotten accepted in a state school a few hours away. He hadn't decided what he was studying yet but the tuition was cheap and he had applied on a whim since his grades had improved.

"You'll start out high school right and I know you'll know what you want to do by the time you go to college. You'll be able to go to any school you want and you'll be the famous Varma, I know it."

"I'll miss you. Do you have to go?"

He laughed. "I'll miss you too. Take care of yourself and Dev and Ani too, okay?"

At the sound of their names, Dev and Anika, who had just turned 8 and 6, came forward and each grabbed one of her hands.

"Bye bye Avi. I'll miss you." Anika said quietly.

"Bye, Ani." He got on the bus and waved at them until the bus was too far away for them to see anymore.

#yoooo why is the read more break so hard on mobile Tumblr 😞#jackie varma #open heart #playchoices #missywrites #choicescocaw

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ginnyzero · 4 years

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The Discriminatory Werewolf Archetype?

I love werewolves.

I hate werewolves in most fiction. Werewolves in most fiction are abusive, out of control, OCD, monsters that are usually white males that promote things like incest and rape and well, there tend not to be female werewolves. Werewolves in fiction are representations of toxic masculinity at its worst.

So, why do I love werewolves? I mean, who doesn’t want to be nature’s answer to the chain saw every once in a while or have four feet and run in the forest. I had a wolf dream once and I was so at peace in that dream. Best dream ever. (I blame an old roommate and her love of old WW Werewolf: the Apocalypse Tabletop RPG too.)

But the representation of werewolves in fiction is problematic and that’s putting it lightly. In mainstream traditionally published fiction, female werewolves are rare or they don’t exist. They don’t lead packs. Forget black werewolves or Asian werewolves or Latino/Hispanic werewolves. They don’t really exist either except as “token” characters. And nine times out of then there aren’t gay werewolves, or if there is a gay werewolf they’re outcasts because somehow other werewolves just can’t handle them being aroused by men?

Then there’s the alpha to omega and submissive pack hierarchies that are easily abused. The fact that werewolves are so “grr” angry all the time they can’t form normal or healthy relationships. Then some writers buy into the cult and noble practice and sometimes downright redneck mentalities that to be stronger werewolves you have to marry your cousins. And men are always in charge, always.

You see these werewolves always based upon the French idea of the Loup Garou mixed with bad wolf science over and over and over again. You want the out of control monster beast in your kitchen sink urban fantasy? You include a werewolf. Vampires are urbane and controlled. Fae are aloof, businesslike, and mystical. (Makes me wonder what fae stories these writers are researching.) It’s become a trope, an archetype.

I mean, usually, the conflict resolves down to that no one can understand the monster that is the werewolf. They can never love or truly be loved by a human or other type of being, be they human or supernatural. Angst. Woe is me! And if it’s a horror story, the werewolf dies at the end.

The fantasy romance genre isn’t immune to this. Sometimes they’re a tad bit better. They include female werewolves more often. But even then, the general rules still apply that are sick and twisted and mostly are there to support the premise that even monsters can be loved in the end. (Yeah, I’ve read my fair share of werewolf romance novels okay.)

Archetypes are archetypes. Tropes are tropes.

But in this era of MeToo and men being called out for toxicity and media being urged to be more inclusive of people of all races and sexualities, isn’t it time for our media to catch up including speculative fiction where vampires, werewolves, mutants, elves and so on are used routinely to represent the other, the disenfranchised and the discriminated against.

Viewed in this lens, the portrayal of the werewolf is sickening. This is the worst of the patriarchy on display in speculative fiction form. When women, LGBTA and people of color are the minority and not the normal, disabled werewolves don’t exist (or are killed) and men are always in control and their behavior is excused because they are “alphas” isn’t right. It’s wrong. It’s grossly wrong. Why are those in writing and especially in publishing and in Hollywood still pandering to these ideas?

“People like monsters.” Ugh. Rejection right there. Werewolves can be cool without being downright nasty and out of control monsters. There are more werewolf types than the loup-garou. Beep. Exit stage left please. “It takes time.” You say. “People aren’t ready for werewolves that have control of themselves and can have healthy relationships and are female and are all races and all sexualities.”

Bullocks.

The ideal werewolf novel by CrockpotCauldron has over 68,000 notes. Assuming even half of those were likes, that’s 34,000 people who are interested in werewolves that are women, LGBTA, POCs, based on good wolf science that have healthy relationships with those and others around them. (And what would a disabled werewolf look like? Ponder. I might have to figure that out. I have so much to else to delve into why not add another thing?)

Most books don’t sell 20,000 novels in their first year. Sure, okay, so many of those people who noted that post aren’t going to buy a book. So if you go with the 3% conversion rate of all the notes that’s only 2000 sales. And I’m going to say people aren’t probably going to buy the book because they may not like the plot presented. But you have to get the book in front of those 68,000 note people in the first place!

The day I wrote after I wrote this post I found yet another person complaining about alpha-beta/dom sub dynamics in werewolf fiction! The people are out there!

So that means you can’t just put out one inclusive werewolf story, you have to put out multiple ones until you find the one with the plot and world building that people are going to buy across all age levels. You have to get it in front of influencers like CrockpotCauldron and others like her.

(She also has a list of werewolves she’s excited about. Sadly, I’m not on that list.) (Yes, I sent her my first book. Oh well.)

Fiction is a reflection of our reality. It disturbs me that werewolves are still being presented this way. That the art I see is all about growling and werewolves dripping in blood. That toxic masculinity parades itself across the page and most times isn’t called out for what it is, wrong. (Kitty Norville did, Women of the Otherworld did not, Patty Briggs is halfhearted about it. Butcher is, omg, let’s not even go into Butcher. I swear Jane Yellowrock series ignored weres most the time. Charlaine Harris didn’t help anything. Kim Harrison’s werewolves were, well at least there were females! That’s the most I can say.) Many times the sexist and horribly toxic tropes are written in as world rules that can’t be gotten away from. (Women of the Otherworld, Blood and Chocolate.)

By the time I came across CrockpotCauldron’s post, I’d already written my books. I was already disturbed as much as she was by this one dimensional portrayal of werewolves and their origin and their dynamics. I wrote Heaven’s Heathens MC as a revolt of what I was seeing in werewolf media in order to start portraying that wolves are families that work together and not domineering hierarchies where the “Alpha” is in charge. That there can be werewolves of many colors and skin tones because well, a) medieval Europe was not white, white, white. And B) this is the future, and many people have mixed their blood together enough that’s it can be difficult to know what race they are. I have female werewolves. I have nerdy werewolves. I have big buff mad scientist werewolves who enjoy DnD.

And honestly, I don’t mention character’s sexuality at all unless it’s important to the story. I don’t base my characters around the idea that they’re LGBTA and that defines them. It doesn’t. If there are LGBTA characters in my stories I want it to come up naturally and that “oh, they happen to be this” rather than “this is a problem.” Because I don’t want sexuality to be a problem in my werewolf pack. That goes against everything my werewolf pack stands for. (If it is a problem for werewolf packs that aren’t the Heathens in the story then you know those packs are bad packs. Bad! Bad wolf packs. No biscuit.)

I’ll admit, writing people in healthy relationships that share emotional labor is difficult due to lack of personal experience to some extent and that it cuts out what is the fall back conflict of most television shows and books, aka miscommunication. (I hate miscommunication personally. It’s one of those growing up things.) This is how insidious toxic masculinity is! This is how deep the patriarchy runs. That even when you’re trying your best to stay away from it, you feel like it’s slipping in no matter how hard you try!

And I know this seems an odd thing to be talking about with all the problems going on in the “real” world. But I think that if there are those that would defend these werewolf archetypes and tropes, they need to be looked at hard especially if they are in the publishing business. Because Media reflects reality and any trope and any archetype that is as discriminatory as werewolves needs to be dissected (and Vampires need to be dissected too because they represent another side of toxic masculinity. But I can only do one post at a time) and then broken down and transformed.

That’s what werewolves are really about, transformation! So, locking them into one rigid role seems awfully backwards to what they are.

Is it discriminatory? I'll leave that to you to decide. I know that I don't like it and am trying not to pander to it in my books. And if this blog post wasn't enough for you, I also talked about this on Twitter.

#werewolves #wolves #writing tumblr #writrblr #writing wolves #writing werewolves #reference to crockpotcauldron #representation

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 4 years

Note

If it's not too much trouble I'd like to request 19 with Weather Report!! Thank you, thank you!! I can't wait for February!!

No problem.

Eye of the storm

(yandere Weather report X female reader)

You looked down at your arm as you sat on the small bunk of your cell looking down at the black line on your hand. You couldn't believe you had been convicted for the murder of your boyfriend. You had told the police all that you knew, it was all just a horrible freak accident but no one else seemed to think so and that's how you ended up in Green dolphin street prison.

However a voice pulled you out of you saddened state.

"Hey you must be new here, I haven't seen you around before" a feminine voice from the next cell over said.

"Yeah... I just got brought in today" you replied.

"Yeah the first week in is the tough part, it's my fifth week in if it makes you feel any better"

"So what got you in here anyway? you look too soft to have done anything" she asked

"My boyfriend ended up in a freak accident in our house and I've been charged with second degree murder for his death" you explained and the female let out a little chuckle.

"Wait! What's so funny?!" You hissed.

"Nothing sorry... It's just I got charged with murder for my boyfriend's death in a car accident" she replied.

"The justice system is fucking ridiculous" you sighed. You didn't care who you were talking to, you were just glad to talking to someone.

☁️☁️☁️

You woke up the next morning, part of just thought it was all a terrible dream but when you looked at the shadows of the cells bars on the bare walls you knew it wasn't. The day was going to be a slow and painful one, you just knew it.

First you had to hit the showers and it wasn't the type of shower you were use to, they didn't even bother having cubicles the shower heads were just all lined on both sides of the a long tiled hallway. Everyone in there could see you fully bare.

You got catcalled and harassed, one girl even had the audacity to slap you ass. You didn't like it at all. You felt so exposed having all these other women that you had never met eye you up and down.

Then breakfast was after. The food didn't look so good but you ended up wearing it before you could even eat it after one woman shoved into you.

"Oh look what you've done to my breakfast!" She said in a sassy tone.

"What are you talking about it's perfectly-" you were saying before she tipped her tray over you causing baked beans and runny egg yolks to drip down your head and shoulders.

"You better pay up for ruining my breakfast, I want twenty dollars right now!" she hissed with a voice laced with venom as she pulled you away from the crowd.

"Twenty dollars! We're in a prison, how I'm I suppose to get money in here, twenty dollars never the less!" You exclaimed before she grabbed you by the shirt, you were practically on you tippy toes.

"Stupid bitch!" She yelled in your face. You looked around hoping there was a guard somewhere or that they were watching on camera but there was no guards and you were in a blind spot for the camera's.

'Well if your not gonna pay me with money then you'll just have to do a few favours for me" she whispered in your ear as you felt one of her knees grind between your thighs. You let out a gasp in shock as you began to struggle.

"Oh I bet you'll squirt so hard when I start to rub myself against you" she cooed.

"No, no... I'm sorry but I don't do it that way" you explained.

"Trust me after I make you cum you will" she argued in a sweet tone.

"I don't know if you understand me but I'm telling you I'm not into chicks... Just leave me alone" you said as you began to panic.

"In prison any dick whore can be bent into a pussy slut, I'm letting you off easy for what you did right now so don't make me change my mind!" She said as you could see her patience was wearing thin.

"Just let me fuck you danm it!" She yelled only for a strange creature appeared beside you and punched her in the face causing her to let go of you and fall back.

You stood in shock as you saw her get to her knees and let out a hiss.

"There is no need to be afraid, the effects have already begun" The pink and white creature beside you said in a whispy voice.

"You..." The woman hissed before standing up and pointing her finger at you.

"You are such a mess, I'll give you twenty dollars just go to the showers and give a guard ten dollars then you can get something better to eat after with the other ten" he said as she gave you two ten dollar notes.

"Actually take all my money! I'm sure someone as beautiful as you deserves more!" She gushed as she pulled out a possibly seventy five dollars.

"What the fuck?" You muttered under your breath before looking at her face and seeing three heart shaped bruises under her eye before she left.

"For a moment there I thought I was gonna have to save your ass" a familiar voice said.

You turned around to see a green and black haired female approach you.

"Sorry for not introducing myself properly last night, the names Jolyne Cujoh" she said as she shook your hand.

"(Y/n) (L/n)..." You said in shock as to what happened.

"Honestly I want you to tell me what the fuck just happened?" You said to her before looking back to find the creature had disappeared.

"I'm guessing that you only just got your stand" she said. You fell into a fit hysterical laughter as she said that.

"Yeah, coz I totally just got a stand from eBay that is haunted by a creature sent to this place!" You laughed. You fell on the floor and rolled on it. You were not taking these changes well.

Jolyne rolled her eye and lightly kicked you in the stomach.

"Get up and get cleaned up, I'm going to introduce you to some people"

☁️☁️☁️

Jolyne dragged you across the prison til you both stood in front of one of the walls.

"Jolyne, what's so special about this? It's just a wall" you asked. She didn't give you a verbal response and instead walked towards it and eventually through it. You were absolutely flabbergasted by what you had just witnessed. You just couldn't help but stand in shock before she dragged you in.

On the other side was a nicely presented entertainment room with a large framed pop art poster and a grand piano. In the room were a couple of other people. A Hispanic woman in a green shirt and fair skinned girl with green hair and wearing denim overalls, a pink haired male that you almost thought was a woman, another male with a white buffalo hat and a young blonde haired boy in a Cubs uniform.

"Jolyne, who's this?" The Hispanic woman asked as she flicked her braids to the side.

"Oh this is (Y/n), she's a new inmate that ended up in the cell next to mine, funny enough she turned out to be a stand user" Jolyne explained as she nudged you.

"Come on, show it off" she whispered to you.

"I don't know how, I just got the danm thing!" you whisper shouted.

Then the green haired rolled her eyes.

"Come on just show us, we won't judge" she said.

"What makes you think we can trust her, she might back stab us, she might be working for Pucci" the man with the white hat said.

"I don't think she is... She was absolutely spooked when she saw her stand" Jolyne explained.

"How about we just give the poor lady a rest, she looks as pale as a ghost" the pink haired male spoke up as he approached you and rested his hand on you in a reassuring manner.

"My name is Anasui dear" he said in a charming manner as he kissed your hand which made your heart flutter.

"I'm Foo fighters!" The green haired girl said in an enthusiastic tone.

"Hermes" the Hispanic woman simply said.

"My name's Empolio..." The young boy said before they all looked toward the man in the white hat, giving him a nonverbal cue to introduce himself but he simply refused.

You looked down at your arm in a shy manner only to see a white tick next to the black one that represented your late boyfriend.

Someone in this prison was your soulmate.

☁️☁️☁️

It had been a couple of weeks since you had met the gang that helped you slowly integrate into prison life. Sure it wasn't fun being in prison but they at least helped make it a little more bearable.

Another thing that also made things a bit easier was your stand which you ended up naming, Love foolosophy. It seemed to be the perfect fit for it's ability, being able to slide out and emerge victorious from most conflicts by simply having your stand cause you opponent's to temporarily fall love struck with a simple blow.

You sat in the ghost room as you waited for the others to come. Most of them seemed to open up to you very well (especially Anasui) however Weather seemed to always keep his distance from you, you knew he was being cautious but you just wanted him to open up to you.

You began to hear foot steps and looked up to see Weather who just gave a scowl.

"Just you huh?"

"Yeah it's just me..." You sighed.

"If you hate me then you should just say it now..." You continued and his whole persona seemed to flip.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't hate you... I just don't trust you fully yet" he explained before sitting next to you.

"Well at least I have some of your trust" you chirped.

"Don't push your luck" he said sternly.

"Ok..." You mumbled.

An icy silence filled the room for what seemed like minutes until you piped up.

"So how did you get locked up in here?" You asked. He looked at you in the corner of his eye, contemplating if he should tell you or not.

"I don't actually know... To be honest I woke up here with no clue as to who I was or why I was here, the only thing that seemed to click in my mind was Weather Report, it's most likely not even my actual name but it at least gives me a form of identity" he explained.

"So you basically woke up with amnisia?" You asked.

"Yes" he replied.

"Well I'm sure you'll eventually get you memories back, or at least make some new ones..." You said, trying to give the man some optimism.

"Well how did you end up here?" He asked.

"My boyfriend was killed in a freak accident and it was treated as a murder..." You explained.

"And you were the prime suspect?"

"Yes"

It seemed from there the two of you opened up to one another for possibly an hour or so. You felt like you were actually finally able to start getting past the mental wall he always seemed to have until a particular pink haired male came in and tried to drag you away.

"Oh (Y/n) I found such a beautiful flower just past the fence outside the court. It reminded me of you so I wanted to show it to you" the male cooed as he grabbed onto your arm.

"Anasui, I'm kinda busy talking to Weather" you explained.

"No it's fine, it's best you go with him to see that flower" he huffed as he returned back to his original stern persona.

"Ok..." You sighed. It was probably the best for your safety, knowing his extremely obsessive behaviours.

Weather could help but grit his teeth, something about you just seemed the rile up all these emotions and hazy half formed memories.

Anger, Sorrow, bloodthirst and fear but they seemed to all be tied up and linked to another core emotion... Love. Ever since he first saw you he just had all these weird feelings and when he slept he dreamt of you, some were sweet and romantic like the one of him meeting you in a cafe or shop while delivering juice.

However one bad nightmare just kept repeating itself. His hung form forced to watch as you jumped of a cliff and take your own life. He dreaded it, he'd wake up with his heart racing and his body drenched in sweat but he just refused to believe that he was in love. The word love alone seemed to carry a tremendous amount pain with it.

☁️☁️☁️

Over time he just couldn't stop himself for feeling the way he did. When he saw your bright smile and you bright eyes that shone like jewels, he'd be worked off into a world so distant from this. It made him completely forget that he was in prison. You just gave him some form of hope in his lonely life, you filled a void in his heart.

He watched you as you looked out the small window and watched the light drizzle of rain fall from the dark clouds that hung lowly.

"You know, I've always loved rainy days..." You sighed.

"Why's that?" He asked.

"It's just so calming... The rain just seems to wash away all my worries, in the great lyrics of Jimi Hendrix 'let it drain your worries away, lay back and groove on a rainy day'" you sighed and he simply hummed in response, he didn't know who or what you had mentioned at the end but he still agreed with your statement, maybe he could make a few more days like this happen just for you. He knew it was undeniably you who the white tick represented.

It seemed like time stood still as he continued to watch you stare out the window. He just wanted this moment to last forever and in his own little world he hadn't noticed you move.

"Hey Weather?!" You called out as you waved something in front of his face to catch his attention.

"Yes" he stuttered as he finally came back to reality and saw the Toblerone chocolate bar you held in front of him.

"You want it?" You asked as you grabbed another for yourself.

"How did you get a Toblerone? I thought the prison didn't provide that fancy stuff, I've only ever seen it advertised in magazines" he asked as he look the oddly shaped chocolate from your hand.

"What can I say... My stand helps me get by" you shrugged as you opened it up and bit into the first place.

"But why give it to me?" He asked.

"I just thought you might enjoy it. Can't I do something nice? We're friends after all" you replied.

☁️☁️☁️

"Another sudden rain storm has yet again appeared over Florida today after two previous day's straight which has left scientists baffled"

"The previous weekly weather forecast predicted a week of uninterrupted summer sunshine but the days have instead delivered rain, lightning and wind blowing at a staggering 40 miles in some parts"

"Some claim this is part of the effects of global warming while other claim it is an act of God, one man mentioning he is the true Noah"

You sighed with a frown on your face as you heard the reporter on the tv say as you looked out at the dark sky through the window.

"What's wrong (Y/n)?" Weather asked as he sat beside you, it was almost the same as the time you spent three days ago.

"It's raining again..." You muttered as you flicked your hair out of your face. Totally unaware that the Weather was of his doing.

"But I thought you said you loved rainy days, just like in that Jimi Hendrix song?" He asked.

"Yeah..." You sighed.

"But have you ever heard of there being to much of a good thing?" You asked.

"How can there be to much of something good?" He asked which made you let out a sigh.

"It's like having a birthday or Christmas every single day of the year, you get presents everyday but eventually you'll wake up and look at those presents in disgust because they've lost their significance" you explained.

"Beside all this rain is gonna cause a flood or landslide" you continued before you were pulled back by a strong pair of arms and peppered in light kisses.

"Ah you're smothering me with your kisses!" You squealed as you playfully struggled in the pink haired males grasp.

"Oh (Y/n) I can't help myself" Anasui cooed. Weather pretended that Anasui's actions weren't effecting him but they were. Seeing the psychotic man that murdered his previous lover showering you in such affection made Weather sick in the stomach. It seemed like Anasui made his mind over women act like a woman buying clothes, he'd see one girl and go head over heels before doing the exact same over another but he simply let it slide as he thought you would realised it one way or another.

☁️☁️☁️

"Weather seems real off..." Anasui pointed out.

"I don't blame him... He just got his memories back" you replied.

"Who knows what's happened to him prior to his amnisia... How much trauma he could have experienced is a mystery" you continued.

"I think I'll talk it out with Weather... He might not open up about it but I can at least try" Anasui said as he stood up.

"No, I think I should... I've been making some small talk with him lately so I think he might be a bit more open if I just start off the conversation like normal and slowly build to the main question" you explained to Anasui as you lightly pushed him back down to his seat, he gave you a soft smile before standing back up and kissing your lips.

"You always know how the right words to say (Y/n)..." He sighed as he pulled away.

"I can't wait to marry you one day..." He continued, which you had to admit was a little too forward for you. You loved Anasui but you knew he wasn't the soulmate he claimed to be, you knew the red tick that appeared next to the gold one (which had formally been white) was him. Somewhere in the prison you had crossed paths with your soulmate, whether you actually interacted with them or not but until the day you met your true over half you would give him the love he so desperately desired, after all he made you feel special when you were at your worst.

"I'm going to go and see him now..." You replied to Anasui as you gave him a quick peck before you left to the place you suspected Weather report would be, The ghost room.

☁️☁️☁️

"Weather" you called out as you entered the ghost room, he sat on the sofa with his back toward you, his body language was cold and stern much like the side of him you had initially been exposed to when you had first met him.

"What?" He muttered in a cold tone.

"I just wanted to see if you were doing ok" you tenderly replied as you sat on the arm of the sofa.

"I'm fine!" He hissed as he lightly shoved you off.

"Oh come on, are we really going back to step one?!" You exclaimed but he gave you no response as he stood up.

"Weather you know I'm here for you... I don't I know what is going on inside your head now that you've gotten your memories back but I'm willing to listen to everything " you said and before you you could react him harshly pinned you to the wall, giving you a small grin as he heard you yelp in pain.

"You want to listen to me... Then I'll tell you what's on my mind" he said as he gripped your wrists even tighter then he had initially.

"For months I have been feeling so strangely around you... Your existence taunted my mind with all these powerful emotions that threatened to tear me apart... When I found out that you were dating Anasui I thought you would at some stage realise that he simply falls head over heels for the first woman is his sight" he explained in a abrasive tone.

"But you're too stubborn to even realise that... It pains me everyday to see you giving him all the attention" he continued.

"But Weather I do give you my attention... You could have told me this earlier, I'm-"

"You would have just turned me down..." He replied.

"Turned you down about what?" You asked.

"Have you not figured it out yet, I love you!" He yelled which caused you to flinch at the volume of his voice.

"Love? Oh god... I'm sorry but I've only ever seen you as a friend..." you muttered. You just wanted to melt into the wall if you could.

"The last woman I loved threw herself off of a cliff" he hissed as his eyes were almost unnaturally wide.

"God Weather I'm sorry to here that... But you can't just bottle up your anger like this... And I think that you might just be seeing me as a way to fill the void that your late lover left... I don't think it would be good for your health" you explained before he let go of you wrists, only to wrap his hands around your throat. A crazed smile danced upon his lips.

"You are not just some replacement to me... You are my soulmate, you are more then she ever could of ever been" he muttered.

You were scared for you life as you could feel your head beginning to feel light. You quickly summoned your stand to throw a swift punch to his face but it's fist only fazed through him. You tried it again and again but you got no result.

Weather eventually let go of you. You fell to your knees and held you throat as you coughed.

"Why... Why isn't Love foolosophy working?" You asked yourself before he kneeled in front of you.

"I guess Love foolosophy can't make me lovestruck for you if I already am" he replied as he ran his hand up your shoulder which made you flinch yet again.

"Please Weather... Whatever happened to you in the past wants to ruin you... Please don't let your memories destroy you... Don't let it ruin all the good you've done" you plead to the fair male.

"I'm just sick..." He muttered as he wrapped his arms around you before having you lay on top of him as he laid down. You kicked and screamed as you tried to get him to let go.

"I'm just so sick with you not being mine"

#soulmate au #spacy works

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cola-fucking-losers · 5 years

Photo

as promised heres the stupid thing-

Edd was definitely chubby, he can't deny that. In fact, he's pretty sure there's a lot of times where he feels bad about it, before he starts to get over it. Not until there was an afternoon he and Matt got into a heated debated about the meaning of 'Thicc' and why is it a trend.

Matt of course lost, seeming that he lacked the braincells to really process everything. It brought satisfaction to Edd, but he did start to wonder if he was considered 'Thicc'

No, he wasn't talking about having large hips and an ass so curved you can search for its equation. He was wondering if he, a grown man who probably has diabetes, can look nice wearing tight clothes. Specifically, ones for below that always bring out the curves on people.

Tom pointed this out first, joking about it before Edd's brain started to overanalyze it. So now Edd has to go through a phase where he's angry at Tom for that.

Matt decided to say "Why don't you try some on?" Before shoving some clothes onto the brunette's face. He huffs, and tosses them away, refusing to participate.

He cringes at the shorts he was given, it looked uncomfortably tight. And the stockings were no good either because there's no way in hell he was gonna wear fishnet stockings. He picked up a tight pair of jeans, and he was pretty sure those belonged to Mark, so he tossed them away too. He picks up....he picks up a piece of underwear that he quickly deleted from his memory.

Everything looked either uncomfortably compact, or looked like something you'd find in an adult-themed clothe shop. Edd tossed them all away.

Matt had to pick them up, offended. "Why won't you put them on?"

And before Edd could explain why you can't just suddenly recommend someone to wear something uncomfortably explicit, Mark explained it himself. "Those look like they're for stripping rather than making Edd feel nice."

It's times like these Edd forgives Mark and the times he was rudely sarcastic.

Matt hums, before he dashed back into his room. And once the Red-head returns, he was carrying a smaller stack of clothes. He sets them down, and lets Edd examine.

And finally, he finds some clothes that looked nice and comfortable, without making him look like someone who's about to work in a strip club.

Edd's fingers traced the outside of a piece of shorts. "Well-...I guess I'll try them."

He wasn't really the type to even consider wearing something that even tried to hug his skin. He'd rather wear large clothes that were loose. But trying wouldn't hurt...right?

Actually it did, a bit. He first wanted to try some jeans. They didn't look TOO tight, so he figured he'd try that first on. And he regrets it.

It took what felt like hours to even properly shove his whole left leg in. He had to stop to catch his breath, and then he struggled again just so he can lift up the hem up to his waist.

Though the battle tested his patience, he won. He successfully put on the jeans. He felt like he deserved a price, so he steps out his room. And walking unto the kitchen, he passes Eduardo who was busy cooking and grabs a can of cola from the fridge.

After chugging the whole can down, he hears a curse word. Edd raises an eyebrow. The Hispanic dropped a plate, but it thankfully landed on a rug. He quickly picks it up.

Eduardo to gulps as he forced his eyes to not move. Ironic, because he usually tried to avoid anyone's gaze at all, but right now was a crucial moment for him to not even spare a quick glance at whatever the fuck was hugging Edd's legs so tightly.

He turns back to cooking, And Edd shrugs whatever happened and walks back to his room. And once the door closes, he curses internally. He completely forgot to ask Eduardo if he looked okay.

He ignores the thought, because he's pretty sure Eduardo is just gonna throw an insult at him.

That was proven the next morning when he put on a pair of shorts. They were tight, but with a hoodie on he felt...cute?

Whatever it was, he felt nice, and his legs felt less warm.

He walks in the kitchen that morning, hoping to make some cereal. And as soon as he did, Eduardo drops a plate. "SHIT!"

Edd was thankful he decided to stack up on plastic plates instead, because if that was glass he could've brought wrath on the Hispanic. Eduardo quickly picks up the plate, and frowns. "Damn it- I just washed this-" He curses, before he places it in the sink again.

"You okay?" Edd casually asks, walking up to the Hispanic. The man was stiff. If looks could kill, he's pretty much trying to melt the plate he was holding with that scowl of his as he aggressively scrubs it.

"fine."

That was not fine. He wouldn't even look at him.

"cool- uhm.." Edd fixes his shorts a little "Does this look okay on me?" Eduardo turns, but quickly focuses back on the plate.

"Looks terrible."

Edd frowns, mostly because that's such an Eduardo thing to do, but also, ouch. The confidence he had earlier had long disappeared, so he just throws whatever comeback he had and goes back to his room. He tears the shorts away, and shoves his normal brown pants on.

But still, Edd can get pretty heated too. He didn't spend thirty minutes trying to shove clothes on just to get insulted like that.

So the next morning, he still placed some shorts back on. And while it took him awhile, he forced himself to force doubts away, and puts on some white socks that reached past his knees, just a few inches away from the end of his shorts.

He stomps to the kitchen, and was going to prove that he does NOT look terrible. Edaurdo gives him one short look, before he turns away..again.

Edd almost looked childish when he huffed angrily. "L o s e r."

He whispered loudly. Just to grab Eduardo's attention. And what better way to grab it than calling him that? It always gets on his nerves quickly.

The Hispanic turns back again, fuming. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Edd grins. Eduardo just shoots a glare, and turns away again. Nope, nuh uh. Edd ain't taking that.

"losersayshuh" "Huh?"

Edd laughs, while he lets Eduardo slowly process what just happened.

"Motherfucker- how dare you!" He finally got his full attention "That's not fair!" "Yes it was." Edd replies. "No it wasn't! I want a rematch!" Eduardo demands.

"Okay-" The Brit had his chance "Loser doesn't say these shorts looks good on me." The Hispanic stares. Then blinks.

"Are you seriously upset about yesterday." "You were upset for years over a painting."

Eduardo nods, closing his eyes. He lets out a frustrated sigh.

"That's fair."

He finally looks at Edd's legs. The Brit swore, the longer Eduardo looked, the more he begins to look sweaty. Then before staring back into his eyes, "Your shorts looks okay."

It wasn't what Edd exactly wanted, but whatever, he'll take it. "HAH! Not so terrible now huh?"

Eduardo smirks. "I said 'tear-able'. I feel pretty bad for the poor shorts." He crosses his arms. Edd starts pouting again. "It's not my fault I'm Dummy Thick!"

The Hispanic chokes on his spit. "Dummy what now-"

Edd was just joking, but the way Eduardo's face flushed made him want to go further.

"I'm dummy thick, and you can never achieve the peak physique of having these babies." He slaps his own thigh. Which was like- a bit painful. He can see a light red mark on his pasty skin, but that was his fault.

"How dare you- I might not have an ass but at least I've got legs to make up for it!!" Eduardo kicks up high, causing a plate edging off the counter to get flipped up before landing on the floor loudly. "Geez-" Edd picks it up himself "that's the third plate you dropped this week." Eduardo just grumbles something in another language as he snatches the plate back. Edd simply hummed, and slaps his thigh again.

"Ow-"

Why did he even do that? "Why did you even do that?" Eduardo repeats.

"Good question!" Edd finger-guns "I have no idea."

Eduardo rolls his eyes as he kneels, just so he can inspect the mark on Edd's thighs. The Brit blinks, before he subtly drags his eyes somewhere. Looking down currently gave him...suggestive ideas of how else the view could look.

The Hispanic snickers at the mark. "It looks like what happens if dalmatians were white and red-" He pokes, then he pauses. He pokes again. Edd looks back and gives him an odd look.

The Tan brunette stares a little longer, before full on grabbing Edd's thigh.

"Oh my fucking god?" Eduardo whispered, squishing a bit. Edd squeaks, slapping the hand away. "Holy crap- I knew you were soft- not that soft-....?" Eduardo almost laughs.

"It was like holding a pillow! I was right! You really are just a marshmallow!" Edd flushed pink a little. "What? Were you expecting me to feel like a cracker?"

Eduardo shrugged "It's not easy to have an idea if you barely show skin. All I ever seen you wear are long sleeves and pants. I've only seen you shirtless once." He stands up and pat's the Brit's shoulder. "It's okay, pudgy. Maybe one day you will gain SOME muscles."

Edd slaps the hand away, offended. "At least I'm SOFT and good for cuddling." Eduardo gives a manic grin. "So like..a tEDDy bear?"

The Brit starts hitting Eduardo while he laughs, trying to back away. "That was a pun!!That's my job! I'm gonna break your kneecaps!!" Edd yells. "Oh come on- At least it wasn't an insult."

He stops, and huffs. "I mean..okay. I guess." He sighs "You wanna cuddle my thighs next and call them shitty leg pillows?" Eduardo replies with "Really?"

Which was the least expected thing Edd heard- because as far as he knows, he was just joking.

"...Yeah- sure. If you wanna nap on here, then go crazy." He says. Because who is he to complain? It's free cuddles. Plus he never really had someone place their head down there, so this is a first.

"Okay- but- Breakfast—" "Breakfast can wait. Thigh Snuggles" "that sounds very suggestive." "And comfy." "But the fucking breakfast Eddie-" "It can w a i t."

The Paler brunette was already dragging Eduardo to the living room. Edd sat comfortably on the floor, and pats his lap. Eduardo stared awkwardly before he glares sideways. "Really? Now you're gonna be a tsundere?" "I am NOT-..!"

Eduardo just pouts more. Edd gives a stoic look.

"Just get over here."

The Hispanic grumbles, and reluctantly sits near. All what's left was him lying...his head...down..there.

It just sounded so...something a couple would do. And as far as Eduardo was aware, they aren't one. Edd didn't seem to care though, because he took the liberty to gently pulling Eduardo down, and set his head down on his lap.

Oh god- he's doing it. He's resting his head on someone's thighs, and it's Edd, out of all people. Not that he was complaining, it's just not what he really expected. The Brit starts to play with his hair, humming a little.

Eduardo let's his eyes shut. Edd found It adorable. Not that he's gonna say that out loud.

"Are you fucking humming despacito-" He growls, and starts to rise up. The Brit laughs and tries to keep Eduardo back down. "I didn't notice! I'll just sing something else.." He ponders a bit.

"When you try your best but-" "NO."

Edd laughs as Eduardo tries to scramble away like a cat again. "But It's a good song! Come ooon-" He tried to sound upset, but he just snorts.

"You just wanna sing memes!" "Maybe so- but come on. Is it NOT a good song?"

The Hispanic grunts as he crosses his arms. But he did let his head fall back to Edd's lap again. "Fine- But only sing the other parts." Edd shook his head. "Nuh uh- I can't hit those notes." "You don't even have to- you just have to sing it-" "Says the guy who's been blessed with a good singing voice!"

Eduardo turns to glare at Edd. "Pillsbury- I want you to shut the fuck up and sing. I've heard worse, and It took me years to even speak fluent English, so don't give me that shit." Then he smirks. "Unless...you're too much of a pussy to do it?"

Edd frowns. "You're not helping. I am NOT gonna sing it." "Come on- It's just the other verses." Eduardo reaches up to pinch the Brit's cheeks. "My singing isn't even good...!"

There was pause. Before Eduardo takes a deep breath. "..If you never try you'll never know, Just what you're worth.." "Did you just-" But Edd gets cut off..

"Lights will guide you home.." "I'm not gonna sing Eduardo-" "And ignite your bones.." "You can't make me continue-"

Eduardo just stares up, waiting for Edd to continue the lines. And what seemed to be a good minute, Edd frowns, and sighs, giving in.

"And I will try..to fix you." Eduardo shoots Edd with a grin, and they both continue the song.

"Tears stream down your face, When you lose something you cannot replace-" Edd tries to not laugh, but he did find it a bit ridiculous. Still, they moved forward.

"Tears stream sliding your face, And I--...." Wow- They actually sound pretty good. The Brit watches as Eduardo's eyes shut close again. But he was still smiling, and singing along.

"Tears stream down your face, I promise you I will learn from all my mistakes." The paler brunette also lets his eyes flutter close.

"Tears stream down your face, And I--..." The same line was repeated, but Edd was pretty sure he let himself get carried away, and he tried to be extra while singing that part. But hey- who cares?

"Lights will guide you home, And ignite your bones..."

Edd opens his eyes, and Eduardo does the same.

"..And I will try to fix you.."

They gave each other a small smile, until of course, one of them have to ruin it. Edd noticed this pattern.

"Sappy." "I sang better."

They stare a little longer. Then Edd breaks into a fit of giggles. "Yeah, you did." Eduardo only beamed.

#cola losers #long post #alksdjs #eddedu #one shot thingy is in the read more #edd x eduardo #ew edd #ew eduardo #my art #abs draws #*coughs* chapter 27

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ununniliad · 4 years

Text

Burst Beetle Tweseveny #4: "2007: The Limits of Infinity and the Time on One's Hands!"

With a PWEEYOOM! a pair of burning tire tracks blasts across the asphalt, and in a stream of flashing colors, Burst Beetle Tweseveny appears!

"Aha! Back to action, and... um..." Tweseveny is alone in a back alley, her only companions a garbage can, a recycling bin, a soiled, broken bottle of Mister Paprika Code Indigo that was clearly supposed to have gone in the recycling bin, and a poster for a slam poetry event. "Hm."

She looks around carefully, and pushes the little red gem below the clock face on her belt, armor disappearing in a burst of amber light. "Well, I suppose one should explore before jumping into a situation."

Burst Beetle Tweseveny takes two confident steps out of the alleyway! And a newspaper flies thru the air and smacks her in the face! "Ackpth!"

She flails around blindly, trips on a banana peel (left there by fellow time-traveler Comedic Banana Peel Man, visiting from the 1940s), and falls backwards into a pile of trash bags.

She peels the newspaper carefully off her face. "Oh... ow." She stares up at the sky for a while. "...ow."

...she stares up at the sky for another while. "...didn't think this sort of thing happened to net.heroes."

Burst Beetle Tweseveny heaves a big sigh, gives a crooked little smile, and stands up. "But I'm still here, and still free." The fingers of her left hand stroke softly over her belt buckle and the phone inside. With her right, she holds up the newspaper and squints at it. "April... 272nd? Wh-- Oh! Of course, this is 2007! It's the Infinite April!"

<<<*>>>

Every day, the Legion has a new leader! Every night, at the stroke of midnight-- they disappear!! Over the days and weeks of an unending April, the Legion struggles to uncover the mysterious force causing them to disappear one by one! Will the dwindling forces of net.heroism be able to overcome this Infinite Leadership Crisis--

--before the last Legionnaire vanishes?!

<<<*>>>

She hops to her feet, tossing the newspaper aside and running her hands thru her hair. "Well, well! It makes sense that if I traveled to 2007, I'd hit April - it was over a year long! What an event!" She looks around, limbs filling with enthusiasm. "So! First off, I'm going to need a shower. But where will I find some good samaritans who will be open to helping out some random person?"

She turns, looking across the street, and her gaze falls on a building that takes up a whole city block, a building shaped like a cross between a grand hotel and an upside-down computer monitor, a building radiant with the spirit of heroism - the headquarters of the Legion of Net.Heroes, literally right there in front of her!

"Ah!" She grins, striding confidently forward through the revolving door! Within, an expansive, sunny foyer, studded with friendly succulents and the Spectacular Spider-Plant, and featuring a large, round desk in the middle, with an "INFORMATION" sign hanging above it!

And there, sitting behind said desk - a friendly-faced young Hispanic man! His hair, a faded pink with dark roots and a shaggy, uneven cut! His T-shirt, white, with doodles all over it in various colors of marker, continuing onto his skin as temporary tattoos in pen and ink! Two of the nails on his left hand are painted neon green, and three on the right are ebon black, all ten with gold sparklies on top! On his shirt, a handmade button that says "LEADER" in purple sharpie!

He looks down at his phone, brow furrowed in concentration! "C'mon, c'mon, daddy needs a Fanficuno..."

"Ah, excuse me?" says Tweseveny, stepping forward.

"Bvwmeep!" The young man slams! the phone on the desk, sitting up straight. "Hello, nice to meet you, my name is Time-Waster Lad, interim leader of the Legion of Net.Heroes, how can I assist with your emergency?"

"Er..." Tweseveny blinks in momentary startlement, and then a return to solid purpose! "I was wondering if I could take a shower here!"

"Oh!" Time-Waster Lad sags in relief. "Sure, definitely. We have some community showers in the Non-Peril Gym that Weight-Lifting Lady had built when she was leader. C'mon, I'll show you down!"

Time-Waster Lad guides Tweseveny through a door at the back of the foyer, leading to a long hallway. So long, indeed, that Tweseveny can barely see the other end - it seems a football field away, far far too far for the building she'd seen on the outside, and she thrills! The transcendent, ever-changing architecture of LNHQ! She gets to experience it, in person, as a person!

Today, the carpets are lush and thick, in bright colors speckled with triangular patterns, like a bowling alley. The walls are a cheerful sky blue, but in the distance, seem to shift towards a soft pink. Dozens of doors line the hallway, labeled as leading into various rooms; "Monitor Room", "Plot Device Room", "Peril Room", and many others. Dozens of other hallways intersect with it, often at strange and improbable angles. It is lit with warm LEDs, and occasionally, a geographically improbable window to let in the sunlight.

"There certainly don't seem to be many LNHers around today," says Tweseveny, admiring a framed portrait of Tsar Chasm in a Napoleonic pose.

"Ah, well, they're all out on missions," says Time-Waster Lad, twirling a lock of hair. "It's been a while, but remember that press release we put out back when April didn't end?"

"Oh," says Tweseveny, a slight blush of social mistakery coloring her cheeks, "actually, I'm a time traveler - I just landed today. But I'd heard about the Infinite April before."

"Oh, okay, neat," says Time-Waster Lad, as used as any veteran net.hero to temporal shenanigans. "Well, we've been having a lot of trouble keeping up on missions as our team keeps disappearing. We've got those robot duplicates Dr. Stomper made before he disappeared, but they're..." He bites his lip, clearly trying to come up with a diplomatic description! "They're not exactly 100% on the acting right. So we keep them for the small stuff. But most of the team is out doing one net.hero thing or another."

"Gotcha gotcha. It makes sense that the leader would hold down the fort!"

"...haha, yeah, it sure does..." Time-Waster Lad gives a little cough and walks thru an open doorway, into a locker room tiled in warm, bright colors, with birdsong piped in in the background.

"Super swanky!" comments Tweseveny, picking out a particularly bright shower with a rainbow mosaic, stepping in and closing the door behind her.

"Yeah, Sing-Along Lass said that even exercise can be cheerful and nice." Time-Waster Lad takes Tweseveny's clothes as she passes them over, and puts them into the super-speed washer-dryer Domestic Lad had installed when he was leader. "No use putting dirty clothes on a clean body, that's what he told us."

"Excellent advice! You certainly seem to be a good listener!" The warm water cascades over Tweseveny's tired muscles, and she feels her body relaxing, invigorating, mmm!

Time-Waster Lad smiles, leaning against the wall. "Thank you! But it seems like I only listen to the stuff that isn't important. If someone's giving me an order, it slips right out..." He stares off into space, humming musically for a couple minutes. "...oh!" He starts, straightening up. "Sorry, I started just... talkin' about myself!" He rubs the back of his head ruefully.

"Hah! That's all right," says Tweseveny, soaping herself off - gosh, you get sweaty fighting net.villains! "People say I'm a good listener too, and I gotta tell you, I don't mind lending a helpful ear."

"Aw, you're super sweet!" He runs his hands thru his hair, relaxing. "Still, I didn't ask - what's going on with you?"

She works shampoo into her hair, her scalp luxuriating in the stimulation. "I've been bopping around thru time a bit, and just kind of landed in this month."

"Oh man!" Time-Waster Lad shakes his head. "That's not surprising, it's so friggin' long! Like, I was supposed to go for my ADHD screening at the beginning of May, but..."

Tweseveny smiles, filling her voice with encouragement! "Well, I'm from the future, so I know it'll end eventually!"

"Sure," says Time-Waster Lad, with the tones of someone who is trying to be positive but has heard this all before. "But is it our future? Contraption Man said this never happened in his timeline, and Kid Kirby poked at a bunch of alternate timelines before he vanished and couldn't see an end to this."

Tweseveny hums in thought. She's actually read this story, so she knows how it will turn out, but-- actually, come to think, could this be some kind of Elsewhirl, an alternate-universe story? She hasn't considered the metafictional implications of her visit - and there's the lingering suspicion that, sometime soon, she will wake from this sweet dream of being powerful and fighting for good...

She shakes herself out. Dream or not, she's in the story now! "That's fair. So, as today's leader, how are you dealing with it?"

"Heh, well, everybody who can do work right now on the disappearing leaders problem already is, it seems like? So I'm just manning the des... ohhhhh biscuits I forgot I was running the desk! Frick frick frick..." Despite the cuteness of his euphemistic swearing, Time-Waster Lad is clearly freaking out!

"Oop!" Tweseveny turns off the water and does a quick pass with the towel! "Time-Waster Lad, before you continue freaking out, could you please pass me my clothes?"

"Frick frick frick sure..." Time-Waster Lad pulls open the dryer and tosses the clothes underhand to Tweseveny, then starts pulling on his hair. "Daaaaah..."

"Thank you!" Tweseveny gets dressed in a right hurry. She needs to get something more suited to a net.hero than beige skirts and sensible blouses, but there's no time for that now! Boldly, she steps out of the shower, takes Time-Waster Lad by the shoulders, and shakes him a bit! "Snap out of it, man!" Gosh, she's always wanted to say that!

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I just, I just, I just--"

"Snap out of it more than that, please!" Tweseveny grabs a bucket, sets the shower to Breathtakingly Cold, fills the bucket, rears back, and--

"Okay no I think I snapped out of it now!!" Time-Waster Lad throws his hands up in front of his face.

"Oh, good." Tweseveny puts down the bucket and sweeps Time-Waster Lad into a hug! "It's okay! We shall go back to the desk together and Hang Out and Talk and Relax."

"mmberf" After Tweseveny lets go, Time-Waster Lad draws a deep breath into his body, spreads his hands, and lets the cloud of panic disperse. "Okay. Cool." He shakes out his head. "Thanks."

She takes his hand, and together, the two of them walk back down the corridors of the LNHQ. Tweseveny stays quiet, giving Time-Waster Lad time and space to breathe, to consider, in the sunlight of the nice day, in the warm breezes of the architecturally improbable windows.

As they pass the Plot Device Room, without preamble, Time-Waster Lad speaks. "I miss Miss Translation."

"Miss Translation..." Tweseveny pokes at her memories, of reading the older LNH series, scrolling through her news feed in delighted glee... "She was the alien who had a hard time speaking English, right?"

"Right. Once you learned her dialect, though, she was really easy to talk to. Together, we headed up a whole subgroup, one of the smaller teams within the LNH. She was the one who leapt forward and made things happen, and I was the one who took his time and made the plans and make sure things would work out." A great sigh heaves its way out of Time-Waster Lad's lungs. "And then... we lost a teammate. And the whole team got kicked out. Except for me." He runs his hands through his mop of pink hair. "Because, I guess, the Ultimate Ninja... didn't think I was one of them."

"Ohhh..." Tweseveny feels the weight in Time-Waster Lad's belly. The casual dismissal of the leadership he had been proud of... "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." The corridor ends, and the two of them are back in the foyer. "And then, just to kick everything in the pants?" Time-Waster Lad vaults the back of the reception desk and turns to face her. "They all got lost in space."

"Gosh," says Tweseveny, and means it, leaning her elbows on the desk, putting her face in her hands, and looking up at him. "That's painful."

"Right?" he says, and sighs, flopping into the rolly chair. "Starts-Arguments-For-No-Reason Kid and Sleeps-With-Anything-Alive Girl are back now. Not sure what the story is there... I think they might not remember it, but they definitely don't want to talk about it. When Limp-Asparagus Lad was leader, he sent out invitations for them to come back, along with a lot of other inactive former LNHers, and they did." Time-Waster Lad leans his head back and kicks his feet up, pressing them into the edge of the desktop. "But Ultimate Ninja might just kick them out again when he comes back. If he comes back." He blows a breath out loose lips. "And that was my last experience being a leader, sort of."

"Time-Waster Lad..." Tweseveny reaches for him... but her hand curls in a fist. She doesn't know what to say...

A throat is cleared on the other side of the room. "I'm sorry..."

Tweseveny and Time-Waster lad look up, roused from the depressing discussion! There, having just come in the door - two figures!

One, a tall woman in her early twenties, in a glittering silver dress, pale silver hair with a deep purple streak, an amethyst nose piercing, and high heels. She holds up an hourglass full of silvery sand and grins in manic confidence!

The other, a figure in a hooded robe, his face cast in constant shadow no matter how he moves! His body is hidden by the rich brown fabric, its texture sumptuous and expensive, yet continually exuding a noxious smell; starting off subtle, yet getting stronger by the moment!

"...but is this a bad... time?" the woman finishes, a maniacal glint in her eye!

"You're..." says Time-Waster Lad, eyes widening in recognition...

"That's right," says the hooded figure, working enthusiasm into his voice. "The devilish duo of trans-temporal terror!"

The woman raises her hourglass! "Mother Time and the Time Crapper!"

<<<*>>>

Author's Notes: Finally, Tweseveny returns!

There's a lot of reasons it took me almost two years to come back to this. A two-part storyline ended up ballooning to six parts, as I found more things I wanted to do with it, in terms of emotions, continuity, and cool shit. The continuity required a lot of research, and the emotions required a lot of heavy lifting. But it's done now, and I'm proud of it - I hope you will be too!

In re: Contraption Man: In the first Infinite Leadership Crisis issue, Contraption Man shows up yelling "No future!" and then goes into a coma, but he shows up perfectly okay later. I thought about commenting on that situation, but frankly, I'm going to be doing a lot of continuity-stitching in this storyline, so I'll save that for some other ILC insert.

"berf" as a sound effect of something mildly discomfiting happening is stolen from Questionable Content.

Time-Waster Lad created by Raythrax, Not Reserved.

The Time Crapper created by Jef Kolodziej, Free For Use.

Mother Time created by... shoot, it's not on the wiki. It's Arthur, right? In LNHCP #43? And I'm pretty sure she's Not Reserved and/or Free For Use??

#Original Fiction #Superheroes #Adventure #Silliness #Legion of Net.Heroes #Classic LNH #Burst Beetle Tweseveny

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darkjellyfishdinosaur-blog1 · 4 years

Text

Warning to Balmung Players

If there's anyone curious about @mysterium-xiv, which is still somewhat active, if a hotbed of ERP, I advise against it. I was a founding member and remained with the group until about a month or two ago. I was kicked out of the group by people I thought were friends, people I had been with through multiple games going back to City of Heroes. What for? Not the usual reasons, not irreparable IC interactions nor IC-OOC bleed, but simply a difference of opinion and a refusal to bow to unreasonable demands and double standards.

Now, I use my Discord status in multiple ways, not only telling people how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking, but also highlighting certain phrases from conversations I've had in the various servers I'm in. Most of the time, they're only relevant or make sense to the chat it's from, leaving others to scratch their heads or better yet, ask what's up with it so I can have new discussions. Who doesn't love discussions?

One such status was contrary to the BLM narrative, which triggered some people but not badly, because hell, it's just an opinion. A real friend wouldn't get pissy about an opinion, right? Well, one of the Tower members was absolutely triggered, whined to FreelanceWizard or @little-purple-thundercloud (his RL friend) and I got a talking to by an officer (of which there is only one or two out of 8? active, except when they need to vote on something, including the triggered person’s significant other). Basically, it was "change your status" and despite my protests, I did so. But per my usual, I changed it again the next day and they were triggered again.

So, I created a second Discord account and instance, so that I could have a status that wouldn't trigger Mysterium. And things were calm for a while. But then I got a talking to by another officer, one of the more useless ones, after everything was settled. I thought my status was pretty neutral but he wanted me to change it, so I changed it to "Raccoon Lives Matter", thinking it was a jovial little poke at BLM (my chat handle and such is “Raccoon” btw). The officer claimed it was funny and ended the conversation. Next thing I know, I'm kicked out.

Afterward they went and made an addition to their charter: "Our community welcomes people of all genders, ages (of those 18+), races, religions, creeds, nations, abilities, and sexualities. Those whose beliefs or behaviors are contrary to this perspective, in the judgment of the community and its leadership, are not welcome." So they want to spin it as if it was not about them having double standards about the discord status, but just that I'm a racist because I don't back BLM. As such, I'm not welcome.

I support black rights and I believe black lives, just like all lives, matter. But you can’t protest the shooting of armed black felons (but not white, hispanic, or asian shootings), push the narrative that cops are evil, and expect me to go along with it.

Anyway, all the time and energy I put into this FC and the friendships I made, all flushed down the drain, has completely crushed any desire to play the game. I just don't have it in me to try again with a new FC or make a new character. So yeah, don't make the mistake of joining this group.

That is, of course, unless you fit into their very close-minded, thin-skinned profile. Or you just want to ERP with men, women, and trans characters of almost all of the races, because just about everyone in that group is screwing everyone else, with the exception of the Lalafell and one dumb lizard. But you’ll quickly learn that you have to be part of the clique, the “Inner Circle”, to get in on the action. Fair warning.

@eightswordsparrow @khalacrumbles @laznenharuya @mercermachines @thefadingsong @kellachfromthewoods @sakata-no-anzu @ofeightblades

#balmung #mysterium #ooc #balmung roleplay #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #balmung server #psa #crystal rp #ffxiv rp #crystal roleplay

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fuji09 · 4 years

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Here is something that I want to share with everyone.

You CAN change. I was raised in a Southern Baptist church. My family is very religious. My family is also very conservative. My family has that thinking that black people think everyone owes them something, that slavery is over and they weren't slaves so they don't have any reason to act like racism still exists, that racism is no longer a thing, that Mexicans should never come to America "illegally", and yeah you get the point.

I used to think that way because it was all I knew. My dad is a Hispanic man thinking like a conservative white man. My mom is half Native American and thinking like a conservative white woman. It honestly does not make sense how in the world they can think this way.

And yes I know I pass as white, my grandma who was born and raised in Mexico and first language was Spanish, and didn't come to America until she was in college, she is lighter skinned, so is my grandpa, and so is my dad. My papa (may he rest in peace) who was Native American was very darked skinned but my grandma is very fair skinned and my mom got her complextion. So lighter skin Hispanic plus lighter skin half Native American equals me having lighter skin as well, although when I'm out in the sun I sure can tan and then I look more like a POC.

But you know what? Once I got out on my own, away from that bubble they kept me in, out of hate and narrow mindedness, I was able to think for myself. I was able to see how wrong they were. I was able to see and care about other people because I used to not care if it didn't effect me. But the thing is, a lot of it does effect me, I just didn't know it at the time.

Growing up I was called a Mexican, and not in the nice way, I was picked on. I was experiencing racism and I didn't even know it! Now its no where near as bad as what black people face so please don't think I am saying I know how they feel because I don't because I am not black, I am a POC, but today is about black lives.

I was raised to be a mindless drone, follow the Bible, what your parents said, and not ask questions and think for yourself. I was scared of making my parents mad, but that's a whole nother topic. I am no longer like that.

I care about the awful things that happens to other people. I see hate and racism. I don't think the way I used to because I know it was WRONG. If I can change, so can you. You CAN unlearn racist thinking and behavior. I sure did and I'm happy I did. I do feel ashamed for how I used to be, I do have moments where I feel guilty.

I am a white-passing non-black POC and I stand with black people in this time because their lives matter.

So my entire point is, you can unlearn racist upbringing. You can change. You can stand with those who need you now more than ever. You can bring change. You can stand in between a black person and a police officer. You can stand up against oppression.

#personal #POC #black lives matter #black lives fucking matter #blackout tuesday #blm #i stand with you

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creaturedom · 5 years

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If you want you should write something w allergies! (Im pretty sure id die of happiness, your writing is gorgeous~)

Anon, you know the fastest way to my heart, thank you heehee. I think this is a good time to introduce my detectives..~

A fine mist was starting to settle over the streets of Downtown LA as the night slowly crept in. By now most would know not to be wandering around, save for a few homeless looking for a place to stay for the night, but tonight was a bit of a special case. At least, down in the industrial districts.

There was a rumor floating around one of the local warehouses in the fashion district was importing contraband from a new seller. Seeing as the accused had been arrested a few years prior for selling drugs out of his car, it only made sense to send someone out to keep an eye on things before anything escalated.

Detective Morgan sat with his foot on the seat and knee pressed against the glovebox, hazel eyes trained on the back door. He was a slender, pale man, with brown hair neatly cropped and styled to the side. Dark freckles peppered the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks, and tonight he chose to wear a hooded leather jacket to combat the chill. His knuckles raked under his nostrils as he sniffled for what felt like the thousandth time that night, but that wasn’t the only thing to break their silence.

“Blow your nose,” the man beside him stated flatly “I don’t want you dripping snot all over the seats.” Detective Corva was a Hispanic man, long curly hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. It was dark brown with some lighter highlights in it, something that popped against his tanned skin. His jawline was more squared off compared to Detective Morgan’s, with a bit of scruff lining it. He went with a full sweater that matched the gray interior of the car, and though he kept his eyes on the streets he gestured to the glovebox. “There should be some tissues in there, just dig around.”

“I wouldn’t need them if we just took my car...” Morgan grumbled as he began rummaging through the glovebox.

“Yeah, well someone forgot to fill up the tank again, so whose fault is that really?”

“Yours, for not vacuuming after your mutt?” Corva feigned offense as he gasped and smacked the detective’s shoulder, grinning afterwards with a soft sigh. Corva may have been better at staying focused, but he was just as much a goofball at heart as his partner. That, and Morgan always did like the way his nose would scrunch up whenever Corva was being a smartass. Finding one wadded tissue he brought it up to dab at his nostrils, already grimacing at how rough it felt. “I’m gonna be a damn mess tonight...”

“Did you take anything before we got in?”

“Mm, I thought I brought some with me, but I must have left the bottle on the counter..”

“God damnit, are you kidding? I knew I should have packed something, you always do this...”

“Hey, that’s not fair! I... I can...” Morgan groaned as he massaged at his nostrils “Urgh- be organized too, I was just excited to get out. We haven’t been on a stakeout in months, don’t you miss me..?” Corva shot the other a disinterested look, only to find Morgan throwing some watery looking, pleading eyes at him. It was enough to make the man snort and shove him again. “Focus on the door, asshole. Remember, the report said we’re on the lookout for the son too, he should be around nineteen. There hasn’t been too many sightings of him, but he’s starting to show some patterns.”

“Rodger that..” Morgan turned his attention back on the door, though he propped his cheek on a lazy hand. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his nose was starting to burn with irritation, and the talking was helping to distract him more than anything. He was doing his best to stay quiet and dab at it, but the dander floating around in the car and clinging to the seats was making things difficult.

“Hihh...” His eyes glazed over as a trembling hand clasped over his nose, a few quick puffs of air before a quick pinch of his nose “HihTSxchh- tschxx!” He let go briefly, but he knew the mistake made as soon as he did. The pressure was steadily building up, and once more he had to be quick to pinch it off “Hrrtschxxx, ht’tschhih! H-Hah- heh’ktschh!”

“Jesus, would it kill you to let em out?”

“S-Sorry, old-! G’TSchxx! Habit...”

“You’re gonna pop a blood vessel,” Corva warned, eying him cautiously “I’d crack a window for you, but you’re bound to get us noticed if you really start going off. Sorry bout that... You sure you’re good to keep watch?” His question was only punctuated as Morgan gasped and buried his face in the wrinkled tissue for three more quick stifled sneezes, the look in his eye indicating this was a stupid move “Seriously, we can say someone started making a scene too close to the car, we could head back home...”

Morgan merely shook his head, doing his best to find something salvageable about the now wet tissue, only to fold and put it to the side “No, we’ve needed this lead for months, I can take it. Just gohh- gotta get myself under control.”

“Alright...” With that the two of them fell silent again, save for some wet sniffling here and there. Overall the night was peaceful, save for a few drunken shouts in the night and occasionally having to adjust themselves lower as a homeless person staggered past. Not too much activity, and certainly no trucks coming in. Morgan was looking worse for wear the longer the night drug on, never taking his gaze off the door entirely, but Corva could see it. How his nostrils were still flaring, how he bit his lip whenever he would start hitching to try and keep quiet, and worse still the overall redness to his face. The case was important, but this was starting to get ridiculous to watch “Take a lap, buddy.”

“I’m fiihihn...”

“Then I’m hungry, go get some snacks, or pretend the drugstore is a block down.” He caught the flutter of Morgan’s eyes and the gaping of his mouth again, the other man clearly on the edge of a fit “No one’s here yet, you could at least get yourself some tissues while you’re out.”

“I cah... Can’t..!” A few more sharp gasps was all it took for him to snap forward into his lap, hands templed over his mouth and nose “Tschxx, tschx, tschHHXxx, ghschxxx-!” His shoulders trembled as his head reared back briefly and dove back in “Hiitschhh! Tschoo, tsh tschh tSChhh tschh! Hp’tschh, tschhhh!” Corva was as helpless to do much more than lay a comforting hand on the man’s back as he finally rode out the rapid fit. Morgan’s sneezes weren’t booming, so Corva never understood why he would stifle, as it’d leave him like this. And sure enough Morgan was bobbing with these small, quick sneezes for a good minute or so before he just went limp beside Corva, body trembling with exhausted pants and hands not moving from his face.

“Bless you a hundred times over...” Corva sighed, rubbing his partner’s back soothingly “That’s it, we gotta get you out of here, you can’t focus and I can’t deal with the guilt.”

“Guhhhh... But the casehhITschh!”

“We gotta come back in a couple days, we’ll make up for it then. In the meantime you gotta try to clean yourself up and I’m gonna drive you home, alright?” There was a pause before a defeated sigh sounded, a bit of a triumph in this low moment to have reason shine through “Fide... But fuck, you got ady bore tissues? I’m dyid over here...”

“If you only found the one in there, then-“ Corva froze as he caught a glimpse of headlights, quick to get low with Morgan to avoid being spotted in the car. When it passed he looked up to find a large delivery truck with a silhouette of a hawk flying on the side, parked in the loading dock. And, soon after, the door on the side swung open, a young man around eighteen or twenty striding out with a grin on his face as he called out to the person in the delivery truck. Corva sat there watching while Morgan slowly sat up, a thick sniffle muffled by his hands as he tossed a teary glance to the side and back to Corva, hands still tightly clasped over dripping face “Too late for that tissue rud..?”

#sneeze fic #my ocs #Detective Morgan #Detective Corva #allergies #dog allergy #sneezing #request #anonymous #sorry filling these out took a while I just got really shy with this specific request cause ocs lol #Hope you guys like em ;w;

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ijaws · 5 years

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@oh-just-hazel

Racism

I agree. Reverse Racism doesn’t exist.

Racism exists. There’s no ‘reverse’ or cute little terms to replace it like Racial Prejudice. Hell, Racial Prejudice falls under the definition of Racism in every single dictionary I could find on a quick google search. I’m sorry, but if you provide any sort of Racial Discrimination, Prejudices, or Racial Superiority Propoganda you’re 100% racist. There’s no if/and/or ‘but’s about it. I don’t care what skin color you are.

If you say that you can’t be racist because you’re a minority you’re delusional or brainwashed. If you discriminate or are prejudiced against anyone based on their skin color, you are no better than or different from a White Racist. None. You are BOTH equally wrong and I will treat both as you should be treated. As racist scumbags who don’t deserve to breathe the same air I do for being such braindead human beings that shouldn’t have the right to procreate.

Black person expressing Racial Prejudice = White person expressing Racial Prejudice

There’s no difference. They are both equally shitty people and if you defend that Black Person then you are literally advocating for Black Racism. You are actively defending racist behavior. It would be NO different than me defending a White Racist.

Source Material

I’m going to clear up my position on this subject. If you do not believe me on here, then look through some of my other posts regarding Ariel.

I believe that if a character was created a specific way with specific traits that those specific traits should stay the same with every depiction of the character onward. Now there can be adaptations of the character, and there is nothing wrong with that, but you can’t take a character named Jimmy and make him a woman and still call him Jimmy. You can’t take a White Character named Jimmy and make him Black and still call him Jimmy. That’s not how that works. Jimmy, if he was established as a White Character, is, well, White. Jimmy isn’t Black. The same goes for a Black Character. Let’s say that Micheal is Black. You can’t take Micheal and make him White and still call him Micheal. That’s not how that works. Micheal ISN’T White. Micheal wasn’t established as a White Character.

So if you established Cinderella as a White Princess, then she is a WHITE Princess. If you establish Snow White as a White Princess, then she’s a White Princess. If you establish Belle from Beauty and the Beast as White (eventually a White Princess) then she is WHITE. If you establish Tiana is a BLACK Princess, then she is a BLACK Princess. If you establish Mulan as an Asian Warrior Princess, then she’s an ASIAN Warrior Princess. If you establish Pocahontas as a Native American Princess, then she’s a Native American Princess. If you establish that a character is Gay, then that character is a GAY character. If you establish that they are a lesbian, then that character is a lesbian character.

If you establish Ariel as White with Red hair and Blue eyes, then she is WHITE with RED HAIR and BLUE EYES.

Ariel does not have dark eyes, african hair, and dark skin. Pocahontus doesn’t have pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes does she? No. She doesn’t. Therefore if I changed Pocahontas to have pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes would she still be Pocahontas? I want to answer this. Like. Legit. Would she, or would she not, still be Pocahontas? If she isn’t then you are racist just like how you’re trying to point me out as racist.

“Her story revolves around her being Native-” Oooh, okay. So that means I can go and make Falcon from the MCU into a pale skinned, brown haired, blue eyed White guy? After all, his race doesn’t matter too much to his character. It should be PERFECTLY acceptable for me to change his race then. Oh, what about Colonel James Rhodes? AKA War Machine? You know, Don Cheadle’s character. I can go and change his race right? That’ll be perfectly acceptable, right? After all, him being Black does nothing to story and isn’t important to HIS character.

Oh, I can’t do that because it will be Whitewashing? Then why is it okay for a Black Person to take the role of a White Person where the race doesn’t matter then? Isn’t that Blackwashing? Oh, so Blackwashing isn’t a thing because there’s been oppression in the past that no one alive today has the power to do anything about yet somehow we have to pay for something that neither you or I was a part of? Silly me. (Yeah, all that was sarcasm)

Either it is okay for everyone to disrespect culture, established characters, and the authors original intent and depict any character however they want to treat them no matter what race they are, or no one should be allowed to do any of that and they should respect source material and author intent.

I will be 100% convinced that if you continue to play around with words and weasel your way into justifying the erasure of Classical White Characters that you are 100% trying to establish a double standard and perpetuate a double standard. You will be trying to say that it is okay for POCs to do something and White people can’t. That you are trying to say that POCs can take whatever role they want and if White People say anything in protest that they’re immediately somehow racist. I’ll COMPLETELY ignore the fact that if you, yes you, did the exact same thing about a White Person taking a POC role that you somehow aren’t racist when I would be when it comes to White Characters.

Do you not see how fucked up that is? I am not racist. I don’t care about skin color. I have lived in Italy, Japan, and multiple different states in the US. Hell, I’ve actually experienced racism as the victim in Japan (it could have been xenophobia though), and I have experienced racism in a Black Majority town that I used to live in. (There were 3 Black People to 1 White/Other person. I was lucky to get a job in that town according to my Black Coworkers. The GM of the company I was working for didn’t like White People. A lot of companies there were like that.) However, I learned about other cultures by witnessing them first-hand and came to respect them.

My mother and father taught me that people were people. It didn’t matter what they looked like. My mother and father told me that racists were disgusting and slavery was completely wrong. The told me that hat if they ever caught me picking on someone because of their skin color I was going to get the beating of my life. (My Dad told me that one actually.) My Dad went into the US Military and that is where I met people of all sorts of ethnicities and nationalities. I NEVER experienced racism until I got back to the US after being overseas collectively around 8 years. In DODDs Schools (Military Schools), which I was in for nearly all of my education, my classmates were the children of Military Parents like I was. In the Military, the US Military anyway, you can be punished for something your kid does. You can get in severe trouble. That’s why I feel a majority of my classmates were well behaved. I rarely saw fights, everyone was very chill, racism was nonexistent (We could openly make race jokes with each other and we’d all be chill pretty much. None of us gave a fuck.), and the teachers were badass af. Obviously a majority of them had been prior Military individuals themselves.

Besides that, when I was overseas a majority of my friends were people of color. Black People, Asians, Middle Eastern Kids, etc. Hispanic. I had friends that came from all over the place. Yet, if I was racist, why would I want anything to do with them? If I was racist why would I condemn Whitewashing? If I was racist why would I advocate for a Disney Princess from Africa based on Afircan Culture? If I was racist why would I condemn the Alt-Right, the KKK, Nazi’s, Hitler, and the Ayran Brotherhood? If I was racist then why would I, if I had the power, go back and try to prevent slavery from even happening? If I was racist why would I be wanting Marvel and other Movie Studios to be making MORE POC movies on characters like Borther Voodoo, Static Shock (LOVED that show as a kid holy fuck), John Stewart, Steel (Henry John Irons. He looks cool af), SPAWN!!! (I heard they’re supposed to be doing a new movie but I dunno. I’d be excited either way.), etc.?

Why would I want any of that? Tell me. I REALLY want to know how I’m racist.

Is it because I want a classical White character to STAY WHITE?! Wouldn’t you want Black characters to stay Black?! How are YOU not racist for that when I AM?! The double standards are REEEAAALLLY starting to piss me off here.

Bottom line is that I’m not racist for wanting a character to stay true to their source material.

If I am racist for wanting Ariel to be White, when she was depicted as White in both the 1839 Publication in DENMARK and the 1989 Disney film, then you HAVE to say that Black People who are racist for wanting Blade to stay Black as he has been since the ‘70s… Fair is fair or there’s a double standard… Or you have to admit that White people, oh, I dunno, are just getting pissed because they’re having every single character that they love systematically replaced by POCs, essentially altering the characters they love completely.

I also want to point out that people were mad about this stuff too.

Hunger Games got the cat wrong in the movies. People made such a huge deal out of that they went back and fixed it. Here’s the cats.

People were also about the Percy Jackson movie when they got Annabeth’s look wrong. Annabeth is a REALLY tan girl with really bright blonde hair and gray eyes. This is who they cast as Annabeth…

A majority of us are feeling THIS way about Ariel. It’s not because she’s Black. It’s because she looks NOTHING like fucking Airel. Where’s her red, full, flowing hair? Where’s her bright blue eyes? Where’s her pale skin? Where’s the fucking resemblance to ARIEL??!?

Article

I can destroy that entire article with just a few observations.

Aladdin (1992) - There were quite literally no white people in this film and it is still one of the most widely celebrated Disney Films of all time. Jasmine, Aladdin, Jafar, and even Genie are not Whitewashed at ALL. I’m talking appearances here. Voice Actor skin color is meaningless. People who make a big deal out of that have mental issues. Jasmine is still portrayed as extremely beautiful and she IS a Princess! It states that in the movie. The Princess and the Street Rat. Honestly, it was one of my favorite movies as a kid! And I’m WHITE! Sure, this movie taught people that WASN’T beautiful and valuable because she wasn’t white and that she WASN’T a Princess because she wasn’t White.

Pocahontas (1995) - LITERALLY showed a White Man falling in love with a Native American. Pocahontas who is an actual Princess as she’s listed as one of the Princesses in Disney's Princess Lineup. Guess what… Pocahontas is NOT White! -Gasp- A WHITE man fell for a Princess that WASN’T White?! I thought that in order to be beautiful and full of value as well as a princess that you HAD to be White?!

Mulan (1998) - Another one of Disney’s top most celebrated movies of all time with not a SINGLE White Person on screen! (It’s almost as if White People in general aren’t racist or something.) It was a story about female empowerment at this point and that you can be a badass Warrior Princess AND be beautiful as well! Oh, and guess what, she wasn’t white either and she’s a princess too… Weird… I thought that Disney was trying to indoctrinate young white people that only White Women could be Beautiful Princesses.

Tiana (2009) - ….. Do I even need to say anything here?

Yes, the power of Folk Tales is their adaptability over time, but, again, if you’re doing, you know, a REMAKE and not a fucking ADAPTATION then why the FUCK would cast someone that wasn’t ACCURATE to the fucking REMAKE?! I’m literally losing braincells here trying to dumb myself down to understand this stupid ass shit.

White Culture

Culture / cul·ture /ˈkəlCHər/

noun

1. The arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement regarded collectively.

"20th century popular culture"

Synonyms: the arts, the humanities

2. ------> The customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people, or other social group. <------

"Caribbean culture"

Synonyms: ----->civilization, society, way of life, lifestyle; More<------

Tell me. What were English, Scottish, Russian, Polish, French, and Scandinavian People were before they began their colonial eras? Hmm…? Oh, that’s right… They were White. How many Ethnicities of Europe are there? Well from what I can tell there’s White People and Mediteranean people. A majority of the continent, though, is inhabited by White People while Mediteranean people tend to be situated, obviously, along the Southern Coast of Europe.

Generally when you think of a region you associate it with its people. In Asia you immediately think Chinese, Japenes, and so on. Why? Well look at the populations and their culture. They inhabit a majority of the land nearly, except Russia as it spans both continents, and have the largest population on this planet. You don’t typically think of Middle Easterners and Indians as Asian even though they are. Are Asians now guilty of what White People in Europe are then? They had too many kids and established themselves as a Majority in Asia? The horror! Look at Africa now… When you think of Africa you don’t tend to think of White People or Middle Eastern People. You think of Black Africans with rich culture and lands. Even though the VERY South and North African regions of the continent are White and Middle Eastern looking. (White in the South. Middle Easter in the North.) You don’t tend to think of Egyptians as Africans either when you think of Africa.

With that being said, every culture on this Planet and its people tend to group together. White People, Black People, Native Americans, Asians, etc. You tend to group with who you’re familiar with and who look like you. You’re more empathetic with them. I’m pretty sure you could have a Korean and a Japanese person in the US and they’d gravitate towards each other because of their similarities. Same with White People. Collectivism happens. When people identify themselves they say they’re Asian, White, Black, Latino, etc. What do you associate with when it comes to White People? Oh, that’s right. Americans and Europeans. That’s where a majority of White People are located. White People also have their own cultures like Asians and Africans do. Therefore if you can say that something is a part of African culture, then you can say that something is a part of White Culture as well.

This is how that works. “Whiteness,” is its own topic. It has no standing in regards to the topic at hand as it has nothing to do with what we are talking about. We are talking about collections of peoples and nationalities. White People are a collection of, you guessed it, White Individuals and their cultures.

England, Scotland, Russia, Polish, Scandinavia, Germany, Switzerland, France, Ukraine, Austria, Hungary, etc. All of these countries are essentially White Populations. White People. They ALL have their own cultures and beliefs… The bottom line, though, is that they’re White. They LITERALLY are White People. Collectively they are White People. Therefore, White People are a thing. I am white. I consider myself a White American with ancestry from Northern Europe. I consider them, as well as other White People as part of my kin. MY people. WHITE PEOPLE. Therefore, White People have culture. Hell, we have a fuck ton of cultures. In America it may not be this way because America is a bit complicated to explain, but there you have it.

This is exactly how Black People look at themselves and their ancestors from Africa. Same with Asians, South Americans, etc.

History

“When whites talk about reverse discrimination, I feel that they are making a silly argument because what they really want to say is that we, people of color, have the power to do to them what they have done to us from the 13th century.

But If you think about it, reverse racism is actually kinda great. Because if it did exist, it would mean we lived in a society in which all racial groups have an equal amount of power. But we don’t.”

Quick question. How old are you? I assume you’re not 800 years old. Do you know anyone in your family that is 800? No? What about 500? Any friends or family? No… hmm… what about 200? No? What about 100? Maybe? Interesting. Well… I’d like to personally tell you that no one in your family, or your friends, have experienced slavery, oppression, unless they’re basically 60 to 100 years old, and that you’ve lived a pretty privileged life. (If you do not believe you’re living a privileged life here, in 2019, I swear I will not be able to take you seriously. Even the poorest people in Modern Countries have it better than nearly every Human in History. That’s not an opinion either.) White People haven’t been doing anything to you or your family. If you’re scared of the people that came before us, don’t be. They’re dead now. Everything’s fine.

In all seriousness there is no such thing as reverse discrimination. There is ONLY discrimination. Also, I refuse to be held accountable for what my ancestors did. I have no control over that and I should NOT be fucking forced to pay for their mistakes. If I am to pay for their mistakes then I should be fucking praised for my ancestors that faught against Slavery and Oppression.

Also, really? No POC alive has felt anything remotely as bad as it was at LEAST 150 years ago. No one alive has been a slave. Now there may be some older people out there that witnessed oppression that was protected under the government, but can we look at who was marching along with MLK..? Can we also look at who fought in the Civil War? Can we also look at the people who were slogging through Europe to kill Nazis?

As for the reverse racism comment… Jesus I’m not even gonna really touch that.

I would touch on power, but I am having a strong feeling that you’re one of those types that believes in White Privilege, and how the US Govt. is still skulking around the shadows being racist allowing young Black People to be killed and that they DiDn’T Do AnYtHinG WroNg. That the cops literally just want to shoot Black People just because they’re Black and blah blah blah. I won’t even get into that subject because… holy fuck that’s going down the rabbit hole. I’d NEED to do some drugs to stay sane if we talked about that shit.

The Most Important Point!

You’re right. They’ve already cast the wrong actress to play Ariel. It blows… I wish that they would have actually made a film based on ACTUAL African Culture while also taking place off the coasts of Africa itself. You could have had extremely accurate casting choices, no white folk (cause we all know how White People are racist White Devil Colonizers.), and an original story to tell. What would seriously be the best part about ALL that would be the fact that Black Kids would have an ACTUAL tale about their ACTUAL historical culture that would be THEIR OWN! It would be ABOUT them! It wouldn’t be a tokenized White Character you know?

Also, do you not understand how Tokenizing and Pandering is insulting to POCs? Why casting Ariel this way is an insult to you?

Do you realize that by doing this Hollywood is essentially telling you, POCs, that this is all you’re ever gonna get? That you’re never going to get any roles or movies that are really YOURS… You’re not going to get original Black Stories, you’re not going to get Original Black Characters, and that all you’re going to get is what White People hand out to you? That all you’re ever going to get is second-rate characters? Doesn’t that piss you off? It would piss me off. Why would you even defending a casting choice like this when you should be DEMANDING an original story with original characters about LEGITIMATE BLACK CULTURES?!

Oh, is it because of the whole FUCK WHITE PEOPLE thing? An entirely petty, small minded, mindset focused on prolonging racial tension and racism rather than ending it? Cause, you know, you don’t solve hatred with more hatred. You don’t fucking solve culturual appropriation with MORE cultural appropriation. You don’t solve racism with MORE racism. You don’t solve sexism with MORE sexism. To be honest, you would have thought Black Panther would have taught you that lesson…. That’s Ironic. You do know Killmonger was wrong and T’Challa was right, right?

I dunno. I ranted a lot longer than I thought I would have and got a lot deeper than I thought I would have. Oh well. It’s gotten to the point that I feel like we’re both talking to brick walls while each of us think we’re right while the others wrong. I personally feel that I’m living in reality, but that’s just me… mostly because I haven’t been reading propaganda pieces but… yeah… The signs were when you started bringing up reverse racism… I kinda shoulda back off at that point but yeah…

Lastly, you literally can’t whitewash a character that’s been white for 200+ years to begin with… so…

Oh well… I’ve given this my last horah… Oh well…

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extraterrestreilegal · 5 years

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Chapter IX

It was getting towards the end of my first freshman year and I’d done nothing but skip school, smoke weed, and work. I stopped going to the gym every now and then because I’d developed a new addiction, working out. It was getting out of hand, I’d become obsessed with losing weight that I stopped caring about other aspects of my life. I wasn’t even focused on bettering my mental state anymore, I figured if I could change how I looked, my parents wouldn’t have to look at an ugly disappointment. The unfortunate thing was that they probably liked that I was working.

They were no longer buying my brother or I anything. Their only worry was getting my younger brother to not turn out like us. I’m glad they cared about him and now were truly focusing on being better parents, but they forgot Alex and I were still children. We needed our parents now more than anything, but they found it easier to mold a newborn than realize their two other children were hurting.

It didn’t seem like it to anyone outside of my family, but that household was a toxic environment to grow up in. Remember how I said my parents used to beat us? Well they also beat us when we’d misbehave or as much as move a muscle without being told to. They beat it into our brains when we were younger to not speak unless spoken to. To be quiet when the adults were talking. They didn’t teach us these things, they were beat into us. Whatever they could find near them, that was what was used to hit us. One time it was an old brick of a phone made by the company Nokia that knocked me unconscious. Another time it was a knife that luckily the back end hit my head. On another occasion it was a bowl of boiling soup being thrown at Alex’s face. You see, I grew up hearing kids complain about their parents smacking them or hitting them with a belt. I wish it had just been a belt. I wish it had been just a smack. I wished for years that the torture would end. And it never did because I was stuck on trying to make my parents happy and proud of me instead of doing it for myself.

I spent most of life trying to please them, and then one day I met someone who would change my life forever. It had been raining during the day and my friends and I had made plans to go out to the club. I was young but I had been going to the club for a bit now. There was a local hispanic night club and the bouncers knew my brother and his friends, so they would let us in to party. I didn’t talk to them much but I went because either my parents didn’t want me to be at home, or I myself didn’t want to be home. One night my plans fell through and I was walking the road behind my neighborhood. I’d left my phone at home because it was another one of those days where nothing was going right, so I just wanted to distance myself from everyone. It eventually stopped raining and I decided to go on a walk with my clothes still on ready to go to the club.

As I’m walking in the middle of the road, I’m looking up at the now-clear night sky thinking. I was feeling upset because I by now I had been using the club to get myself to try like women more. I tried really hard to find women attractive but as I was getting older, I was only looking at the men. I would go to the club with the thought in my head that I would go up to a woman and ask her to dance, but it never felt right. I didn’t know it then that nothing was wrong with me, but it was something I didn’t want. I wanted to be normal like everyone else and not have to think this way. But whenever I’d get the courage to ask a woman to dance, I’d get nervous because I’d start to look at their man and think to myself, “Damn, can’t I just ask you?”

As I’m walking down the dark road, I see a light appear behind me. It was only about 10:00PM but growing up undocumented, I was raised to constantly watch my shoulder. I was raised to always make sure I knew which way to run if any danger was near. No one saw how my upbringing and undocumented status was causing me anxiety and paranoia because I was also raised to hide it. Who knew I’d be playing hide in seek in my own messed up ways, unlike the other kids who got the chance to live out their childhood as the children they were.

As the light was growing closer, I tried to look over my shoulders to see what kind of car it was. I had no luck as the bright lights were blinding me from seeing the top of the car to check for police lights. The lights were now directly behind me but they’d stopped moving towards me. All of a sudden I realized the car had stopped directly behind me. If you know anything about the road I was on, you’d understand why I didn’t run yet. The particular part I was by, the road had ditches on both sides of the road. If I made a run for it over the ditches though, there was a chance I’d fall in, defeating the purpose of me leaving the scene as soon and swiftly as possible. But if I ran in any other direction, the car could easily follow me, since there was no where to run towards but an open field or down the road.

All of a sudden I heard the sound of a window sliding down. Unsure of what was going on I continued to walk like nothing was wrong. But then I heard a girl’s voice yell, “Hey you! Walking! Come here!”

I know what some of you may be thinking, wasn’t I just scared of the car? I was, but curiosity took over me and I stopped walking and turned around. I made my way towards the car and I could slowly but surely make out the silhouette of two girls. As I approached the window, I saw a brown haired, fair skinned, girl smiling at me. She looked lost but seemed glad I actually turned around to talk to a stranger in the middle of the night on a dark road. She then proceeded to introduce herself, “Hi there! I’m Sarah, first of all, why are you walking alone on a dark a road in the middle of the night? And secondly, I got lost and I was wondering if you could help me out and point me to which direction the highway towards Detroit is.”

Confused but now sure they didn’t mean any harm, I replied in a tone I can only describe as the gay-lisp, “Oh you know, plans fell through. The usual haha. But you’re actually very close, you just keep going down the road, make a right, and eventually you’ll get there.”

Before I even gave her a chance to respond, I turned around and started walking my little gay ass back in the direction I was heading. As I was walking away I could hear slight arguing coming from their car, but I didn’t pay attention to it until I heard the girl in the passenger seat say, “No! He looks too young!”

Then I heard Sarah’s voice calling for me, “Hey night walker! Come back!”

Hesitantly but surely, I turned around and made my way back towards the open window. As I was walking up, I could see Sarah smiling now that my vision had adjusted to the brightness of the headlights. I get to the window and she said, “Hi, Sarah again, what’s your name? This is Tina.”

I smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Frito, so what exactly am I too young for?”

She giggled and said, “Don’t mind Tina, she just doesn’t seem to remember we were all young at some point. How old are you?”

I thought about it for a second and I wasn’t sure whether to tell them how old I really was, “Four—sixteen.”

She laughed for a second and said, “So are you fourteen or sixteen? Come on there’s no need to lie haha.”

I sighed and said, “Okay fine, yeah, I’m only fourteen, but what am I still too young for?”

She said, “Well, you said your plans fell through. I was just wondering if you’d like to join us.”

At this point I hadn’t processed much of what she had said or I probably would’ve never done what I did. I simply asked, “Join you? I don’t know you guys.”

She laughed and said, “Well join us and you can get to know us. I don’t think we’re that bad haha.”

I laughed and said, “Alrighty, where are we going?”

She smiled and said, “Oh, we’re just going to Walmart for a few things.”

Now, I hadn’t thought about why she originally was asking on directions towards Detroit, but that would eventually become apparent. Without much hesitation, I agreed and she unlocked the doors to let me into the car. It was a 2003 Buick LaSabre and the seats were a beige fabric that was clearly stained with ashes. I could smell the faint smell of freshly burned marijuana and cigarettes. I of course didn’t mind because by now I was smoking every day so I’d been accustomed to it. We were making our way towards Walmart, which they also had no idea where it was, and suddenly Sarah turned and asked me, “Do you drink?”

Now I know I said I’d grown up drinking my whole life, but when I really started smoking weed in eighth grade, I’d found that it’d been helping with my now developed eating disorders and mental disorders. Whenever I drank by now, I never felt like myself. By now it’d always felt like the more I drank, the higher the chances were of me turning out like my father. So I tried not to as much as I could—which unfortunately is hard to avoid living in a hispanic household. But without much thought, I simply responded with, “Not too much these days.”

Sarah smiled and said, “Oh, these days?”

I just looked at her and smiled because I didn’t really want to explain my messed up life and how I’d been living until that point. The rest of the ride to Walmart was short but quiet. We eventually made it to Walmart and I will never forget the grin on Sarah and Tina’s face before we stepped out of the car. I knew something was up but I tried to dismiss it as much as I could because I didn’t want to make it clear that I was now feeling slightly uncomfortable.

As we made our way to the door, Sarah and Tina were playing around like elementary school kids. Trying to jump on top of each other but laughing and yelling hysterically for each other to stop. I smiled because I hadn’t been around genuine happiness like that, I was used to being around people who found happiness artificially. I was admittedly jealous that I didn’t have anyone I could be like that with. But I was now feeling glad I had made the choice to come along on a trip with two strange friendly girls. Unknown to me then, this night would be the start of the life I lived in secrecy. The start of excruciating pain that’d last a life time and traumatize my young mind for the rest of my life. I was looking for happiness and love in places unknown to me. I was used to doing things on my own, so why should my quest for finding those things be any different? I had to do it all on my own. And I eventually did.

#gay #my story #illegal #alien #extraterrestre #ilegal #undocumented immigrants #immigrant #undocumented #drugs #alcohol

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animentality · 5 years

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People on Tumblr and Reddit are arguing over whether or not Octane is white.

My take on the situation is that he’s not Mexican, probably, since he has the motto of Spain tattooed to his arm and when he speaks Spanish, he has that Castilian lisp. So he’s probably Spanish.

So nationality wise, yeah he’s probably not from Latin America, but South Western Europe.

And skin color wise, he’s really pale, so based on his suggested nationality and appearance, yeah. I’d say he’s probably white.

And YEAH, I know, ya’ll are gonna say but he’s HISPANIC.

Hispanic people can be white. Hispanic people can be any race, guys.

Hispanic just refers to anyone with roots in a Spanish speaking culture or the country of Spain.

You can be black, white, whatever and still be Hispanic.

I think it’s America centric thinking that makes people think that anyone who speaks Spanish is from Latin America, and thus considered one of those oppressed “brown people.”

I understand that some of you are big fans of Octane and you think you’re not allowed to like a character who’s white/ wanna be dedicated to the DIVERSITY politics of those hip oppressed people.

OR you’re Mexican yourself and just want to count Octane as representation.

And that’s fine, whatever floats your boat.

He’s not your typical American white guy, no matter what, and he’s a really cool character. I have no complaints about him.

But I find it a little grating that Tumblr is trying to claim he’s Latino and thus, minority representation.

How America centric of you, thinking that anyone who speaks Spanish is an oppressed group from the South Western Hemisphere.

The entire population of Spain is not a minority group in SPAIN, it’s just a minority in America.

Not every goddamn thing has to be about social justice, just take him as he is.

He’s pale, he’s probably white, but speaks Spanish.

Take it as it is, you don’t need to say he’s a representation of Hispanics who have to suffer the indignity of being assumed white.

Like you do know that white passing privilege is a contentious topic of discussion right?

If Octane is white, then ok, still Spanish speaking, still another nationality we don’t see too often. If he’s not, then that should be made clear.

He could be mixed race, he could identify as not white, but these are things we don’t necessarily need to know unless it’s related to the lore of Apex Legends, and I don’t think it really is.

These are things you yourself can headcanon, of course, and feel free to do so!!

But don’t yell at other people for having their own interpretations?

I mean Jesus, what is with Tumblr and always having to insist that you’re right and anyone who opposes you is classist or sexist or racist?

Like you don’t KNOW Octane is not-white.

You DON’T, you can guess, you can speculate, you can project your own insecurities about being white passing onto others.

But nowhere in his bio does it say this man identifies as non white, and to be honest, it doesn’t seem to matter.

And from what he looks like, and based on his suggested nationality, there’s nothing that says definitively that he is non white, so that’s a fair interpretation.

I don’t think it’s right for you or anyone else to say well I don’t think he’s white, and my interpretation is right, because I myself am Hispanic and I get to decide, not you white people.

I’m not white, by the way, don’t even start with that.

So that’s my whole stance on it.

I think Octane is white.

You can headcanon him as anything you like, but that’s my own interpretation of him.

I just find it annoying that both Reddit and Tumblr are in a debate over whether or not he’s white, “Mexican,” or European, which apparently all mean different things.

I don’t know why we have to get so contentious about a video game character but since everyone really needs diversity, we’re all here making ourselves look like fools over it.

#octane #apex legends #this might get me flamed but idk i had to say it #i find it obnoxious when people project themselves onto characters and then act like everyone else is super wrong #like none of us really know do we #only respawn knows #they could say it but theyre allowing you to headcanon what you want #doesnt mean other people cant headcanon what they want

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whenrockwasyoung19 · 5 years

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Time to address Ariana Grande’s friggin tan. So back in like 2014 there was a post showing Ariana in the first season of Victorious where she was looking all pale and shit. And they compared that to pictures of Ariana now with her tan. Essentially people equate Ariana tanning with cultural appropriation but I would argue there’s more to it than that.

So let’s address a few things. Ariana is white. She is not a person of color according to today’s standards. At one point in time she would’ve been considered ethnically ambiguous as all Southern and Eastern Europeans were. So the fact that she sort of is ethnically ambiguous has this loaded history behind it.

Also, Italian Americans can be ethnically ambiguous just innately. For instance, the surname Grande kinda sounds like it could be Italian or Spanish. The distinction isn’t really clear. The languages are similar (very very similar). I swear every time I see that Emilia Clark Dolce and Gabana ad I think she’s speaking Spanish. There are these subtle crossovers that can make it hard to distinguish who belongs to what camp. There is also the issue of skin tone. Italian features vary a lot. Some can be blonde and blue eyed. Others are olive skinned with brown hair and brown eyes. Some are mixture with fairer skin and brown hair and eyes.

It seems that naturally Ariana falls into that category. I wouldn’t say she’s pale. Like if you’ve seen videos on her old YouTube channel you’ll notice she’s got a slight tan. She also naturally has dark brown hair. She’s sort of the average Italian who doesn’t really look like the standard Sicilian but still looks very Italian. So she already has a very Italian look and whatever ethnically ambiguous qualities that come with that are innate. The tan came later, but we’ll get to that.

So for Italians who look more olive skinned, it can be easy to be perceived as Latine. I can personally vouch for this as after returning from summer vacation (and after spending my days outside, I naturally got very very tan) I would occasionally be told I looked Latina. Some would even assume it. And notably, I didn’t try to look this way. The summer sun just does that to my skin. So it’s not an effort on my part to look more Hispanic. And for those who naturally have darker, olive skinned may look ethnically ambiguous.

From this point on, I can really only refer to Italian Americans as I’m not from Italy. I don’t know much about their beauty standards.

Do y’all remember Jersey Shore? The original run in like 09? I do. I was in high school at the time (because I’m ancient). And I also grew up in New Jersey. So, I was around a lot of girls trying to be like Snooki. Girls wore the bump. They wore bright prints. And they tanned. Oh they tanned. I knew a lot of girls who made frequent trips to the tanning beds. And whenever school dances came up, spray tans were suddenly everywhere. There was an obsession with tanning. And Ariana is basically just like those girls I went to school with: obsessed with tanning.

This is a common beauty standard for Italian Americans. I don’t know the precise history behind these beauty standards. But I’ll make an educated guess. Sicilians are like the ideal Italians (in terms of beauty). They seem to capture all the Italian features. Their skin is darker, they have beautiful brown hair, amber eyes; and if you go off of American television, they’ve got curves. I personally take great pride in my Sicilian heritage (even tho I’m only part Sicilian and only kinda look it).

Sicilian beauty standards are also idealized on television. The women Tony Soprano often slept with were often Sicilian. On Everybody loves Raymond, Robert abandoned his plain Jane blonde girlfriend for a voluptuous Sicilian woman he met on holiday. In The Godfather, when Al Pacino is in Italy he practically forgets all about poor Diane Keaton and marries a beautiful Italian woman. In this case, unlike the other examples, Apollonia doesn’t speak much English. Their attraction is merely physical. In all of these cases, the somewhat plain blonde is seen as kinda of conventional but boring. The Sicilian is the attractive one drawing the man away from his woman. In other words, Sicilians are portrayed as this ideal beauty. Sicilian beauty types are similar to Latina beauty types as well which is where I think a lot of the confusion lies. Latina women have darker skin (sometimes very similar in tone) and dark hair. So when all the Italian American girls in my school were trying to look like more Sicilian, it can be perceived as looking more Latina. In my community, no one would mix that up. We know that pale skin is far from ideal. If you can look like you just got off a plane from the Bahamas, you’re looking good. And obviously have slightly tanner skin is popular in general. Self-tanner and bronzer are incorporated into a lot of beauty gurus makeup routine. The fact that someone wants to look a little tanner is not really shocking. But like I said, I can see where the mixup is. Ariana is basically just emulating a Sicilian beauty standard as many Italian Americans do. It can be misconstrued that Ariana is reflecting a Latina look but that’s not the case. But then we get into some phrasing issues. So I hear people say things like Ariana darkens her skin. Ok. Technically yeah. But that’s what tanning is. That’s what applying bronzer is. In reality, such acts are neutral. But the phrasing is definitely off. It does sound like Ariana regularly applies like brown polish to her skin. That’s not what she or other girls who tan do. If you use a tanning bed, it’s your skin naturally reacting to UV light. It’s no different than when I spend a summer riding my bike in shorts, and by August my thighs are very tanned. For girls who spray tan, you can throw a little shade at because it’s not their natural skin. But it’s also aspiring to a Caucasian beauty standard. So is it a cultural appropriation if it’s white people appropriating other white people stuff? Eh I don’t know. My point is the act of tanning really isn’t like problematic in and of itself. And framing it to be problematic by using carefully chosen language is perfidious and wrong. It creates a culture of shame around Ariana which isn’t fair to her or her fans. In era where cultural appropriation is a mortal sin, it’s unfair to accuse someone of that without really understanding the complexities of this situation. Being Italian American has complexity especially in terms of beauty and there is a deeper history there. If you think her music or singing is cultural appropriation, I’m not going to argue that point. But please stop saying that Ariana is tan, therefore she’s appropriating latine culture, therefore she’s cancelled.

#ariana grande #cultural appropriation #italian #Italian American #tanning #FYI I never entered a tanning bed

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desperatelyfullforever · 6 years

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Disney World Omo (Angie’s Pov)

Hey, guys!

You might think it’s the original, but nope! It’s Angie for once, haha. I’m the one writing. First off, thank you guys so much for all the positive feedback! We didn’t expect everybody to be so amazing and to like the stories so quickly, and we really appreciate it.

Second, do you know how sucky it is to hear a story from her point of view when I’m the one desperate?

Now, as you guys know that typically I don’t get desperate. Well, ever since I found out that she’s into this, I get desperate at least twice a day, no kidding. My amazing girlfriend loves to ply me with numerous drinks and get me worked up and desperate. Don’t worry, there’s days we don’t do anything so my poor, overworked bladder gets a rest.

Also, I’m fucking dying for a piss right now but she won’t let me go until I post this because I nagged her to let me write something. Can’t be sloppy, but damn it’s hard to focus.

Let’s see if her writing skills she’s taught me have been put to good use, shall we?

For the new/lazy readers, here’s my info: I’m a tiny Hispanic girl with olive skin and wavy brown hair that goes barely past my shoulders. My body right now is a lot slimmer than it was, but at this point in time I was more on the average side of things, about 125 pounds while being 5 feet tall (I’ve grown about half an inch since then!) Here, I was wearing skintight jeans, a white tank top and sneakers. Here, in this story this is the first time I realized she was into this.

(I know it was said that the next post will be her choir story, but that’s for HER post, not mine. :P)

Now, before her, I never knew that this was an actual kink. I never heard of the name, noticed it, or anything. Yes, I noticed that when I got desperate she was slightly more invested in me, but I never put two and two together until this situation.

As most of you know, we were in band in high school. Now we’re college students, and this happened last May (roughly 6 months ago at the point of this writing). We had our trip for marching band in Disney World, and typically our schedules were hectic and busy; we’d get up at 6:30 or 7 in the morning and be out until at least 10 at night. Typically, the day would be this: wake up, have breakfast, travel to park for something involving the band, split up and do our own thing, meet up between 4-6, either stay in park or go to another park, meet up for another band thing, then meet up at apartments for room keys, curfew, sleep. For 5 days. Just, damn it was so busy, you’d barely get a moment to breathe it felt like.

Anyway, this was day 4 of our trip, the last day before we head to Universal Studios and then back home. The morning was a free-for-all; we could choose whatever park we wanted to go to until we met up for a light show in Epcot. She wanted to go to Animal Kingdom, and I wanted to go to Downtown Disney (Disney Springs?) for that building full of video games, so we compromised; Animal Kingdom for the first half, Downtown Disney for the second half.

First off, let me tell you that my 3 roommates didn’t bother to wake me up at first. We got up at 7 and were supposed to be at breakfast at 8, and I got up at 7:49 while they all were dressed and getting ready to head out. “What the fuck, guys? Couldn’t wake me up?” I shouted as I scrambled out of bed and threw on my black shorts, green t-shirt and sneakers.

They all shrugged. One answered, “We tried. You’re a stubborn ass that refuses to get out of a bed until you have to.”

I blushed, she was right. Unless I have to get up, I don’t. And that means waiting until the last possible moment (hint, hint). I brushed my teeth and hair and hurried after them, getting to the cafeteria by 7:59.

I see her sitting with our friends, already having breakfast. I grab my own breakfast, pancakes with fruit and orange juice, and sit with them. We all eat, and I stupidly take the rest of her drink, which is also juice. “Are you ready to go?” she asked, getting the trash together and throwing it out.

“Give me a sec.” I finish the juice and get up, grabbing the bag I brought with me while she grabs my hand and leads us to the buses in front of the resorts (we stayed in the Music Resort, duh). There was already a long line and half of our band was heading there, so we ran to it and claimed our spot.

We just so happened to be standing behind my parents, who tagged along to the trip. “Angelica, remember to drink a lot today,” my mom said. “It’s supposed to be really hot today.”

Oh, I didn’t think going to Orlando, Florida in the middle of May would be blistering hot. Nonetheless, she gave me two bottles of water and had me drink half of one before she was satisfied enough to go back to talking to my dad. My stomach felt a bit full from all the liquids, and it hit me that I never used the bathroom that morning. Usually in the morning I need to go pretty decently, and me plying myself of juice and water definitely didn’t help.

Apparently I subconsciously started squeezing her hand, because she noticed that I was getting tense. “You okay?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m…just excited!”

Keep in mind I didn’t know of this being a kink. I didn’t know that she knew at that moment I needed to go. She only nodded and started conversation with me, mainly our plans today.

We stood there for roughly 20 minutes because of the long line and the bus only fitting so many people, so we had to wait for the second bus. When we got on the bus I immediately felt it hit me even more because of the AC-they keep it cold as fuck in there. I sat next to her and crossed my legs, ignoring my bladder’s urges for the time being. “Where are we going first?” I asked her.

“I want to go to that Everest coaster. The line gets long as fuck around noon, and it’s a little after 10 now.”

Fair enough. After we’re done discussing our plans I simply play around on my phone until we get there. Jeez, the lines to get IN are long. We take about 20 more minutes to get into the park before finally getting past everything. Before I can say or do anything she grabs my hand, leading me to the coaster.

Now, I’ve been to Disney multiple times and I can tell you the shortest ways to get from point A to B, but she wasn’t having it. We get to the ride, and the line is about a half hour. No problem, not nearly as long as it could’ve been. We get in line and wait.

And wait.

Right before we get into the part of the line where it shows you relics involving the Yeti, there’s commotion about a little boy that needs to use the bathroom, but we all know that you can’t leave the line or else you’ll lose your spot. After a few minutes of back and forth with the mother, the little boy turns around, pulls his pants down and pees right there on the side of the queue for about a minute. I didn’t see it, but I could hear it and it reminded me of how badly I needed to go. I cross my legs and bounce a little.

She gave me a look but didn’t say anything.

The mom left the line with the boy, probably to beat his ass. Even with them gone I still heard the sound of him peeing, and it was torture. Two glasses of juice and half a water bottle was starting to catch up. I rubbed my stomach and whimpered, bending over a bit. We’d definitely make a trip to the bathroom after this ride, I promised myself.

Of course, my plans never happened.

Finally, we got close to the front of the line. I climbed in the seat next to her. We rode, got off and went into the gift shop. While looking around, I had a hand between my legs. “Hey, love?” I said as we prepared to leave. “Do you mind if we stop by-”

“Hey guys!” Fuck. It was our friends. I grin and bear it while talking to them, squeezing her hand as a form of distraction.

“Let’s say we head over to the water rapids?”

Water? My bladder ached at that. “Oh yeah, I forgot there’s a rapids here,” she said, sounding…happy? “Angie, do you wanna go?”

Not like I could refuse. It was 1 against 6. “Sure,” I shrugged. “But can we stop-”

“The line gets pretty long, so we’d have to hurry,” one said. Fuck.

Cue us rushing to get in line, since the ride is across the fucking park. By the time we stop running I’m out of breath, and thirsty. I used logic that we’ll be able to get to a bathroom after this ride and chugged the rest of the first bottle.

As we get closer to the front, I started hearing the sounds of rushing water, as well as seeing people get off while soaking wet and dripping. Now I’m holding my bag in front of me, trying to discreetly hold myself. My bladder felt like a rock at this point, and now I was gonna sit in a raft full of water while getting thrown around and splashed. Just the thought of that prompted a leak, causing me to gasp.

She heard me, of course. “Angie, what’s wrong?”

I ripped my hand away, forcing a grin. “Nothing, it’s just hot as fuck.”

Her lips quivered, as if trying to fight a grin. “Well, don’t you have water?”

…Fuck. I grab my water and take a healthy sip to satisfy her. She grabbed my hand again, which I took advantage of by squeezing. But now I couldn’t hold myself.

After a bit we got close to the ride, and I could really hear the water rushing. I couldn’t help but grab myself, thinking nobody’s looking. She glanced at me and I tore my hand away again, shaking it in the air (I don’t know if anybody else does that, but if I need to go and I can’t grab myself I shake them in the air) and clenching it into a fist. At this particular moment my bladder decided to throb, making me bend over a bit and squirm even more.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? Why are you moving like this?”

Every fiber of my being wanted to run out of line and to the nearest bathroom, but pride was still an overwhelming factor. I wanted to prove to myself that I could wait long enough, that I could tell my bladder that I could hold it long enough. “I’m fine, I promise,” I said to her. In order to prove it I stood up straight, relaxing my body long enough to seem fine.

She stared at me for a long, long time. I could feel my resolve waning with each passing second, and I wanted nothing more but to put my hand between my legs again. Finally she turned around, talking to our friends. I sighed in relief and grabbed myself. Now, I started feeling some sort of heat building between my legs, but I was too desperate to acknowledge it.

Finally, after waiting a fucking lifetime we get on the ride. I tried to find the driest seat but couldn’t, sitting in a puddle of water. The liquid on my skin made me leak again and I could see myself losing it entirely. Somehow I pull it together for the ride, focusing on keeping dry (well, for the most part), and somehow I do. However, towards the end of the ride, I managed to go the majority of it without getting splashed. Of course with my stupid luck, I do. Right in my lap. The feeling of water so damn close to my body made me leak a lot, and I cross my legs while sneaking a grab as I inspect the damage. Thank fuck my shorts were black.

Finally we got off the ride and I couldn’t stand up straight. I was hunched over, unable to stand still at all while my hands shook in the air. We said goodbye to our friends as we planned on heading to Downtown Disney before we had to go back to the resort.

I said nothing, letting her lead me to the buses. We had to take a bus to another resort before heading to the springs. The entire time on the first bus I was quiet, focusing on not pissing myself. My bladder felt unbearably full, and I felt like I was gonna lose it at any moment now. I couldn’t grab myself because she was watching me intently, so I didn’t want to give anything away.

We got off the bus at the resort. We were the only ones there, and there was a fucking waterfall near us. I sat down on a bench while she stood, checking the times for buses. I take the time to grab myself and cross my legs, moaning. All I could think about was how full I felt and how badly I needed to go. I seriously doubted my ability to hold it until we got to the video game building; I had a shaky yet constant leak going by this point.

“You need to pee, don’t you?” That startled the fuck out of me and made me leak even more. I whined and managed to cut it off, looking up at her. Now I couldn’t hide it even if I wanted to, she caught me. I nod and moan again, curling into a ball.

She bit her lip and took a seat next to me, looking around. Nobody was there. “Let me help,” she offered.

At this point I wanted to just let go, damn what happened. But she was so willing, I just let her. She started kissing me and immediately put her hand between my legs, nudging mine to the side. Her arm wrapped around my body to pull me closer, and I felt one leg slip in between mine.

After a bit of feeling around I felt her other hand feel my bladder before pressing down, hard. I groaned while trying to throw my hand down again, but she swatted it away. I tried to close my legs but hers wouldn’t let me, so I was reduced to shaking my hands again while grinding against her hand. The other one strayed over my bladder as I squirmed. She watched the entire time, breathing heavily.

Weird. Why was she so turned on all of a sudden?

Wait. Wait a fucking moment…she was watching me all day, meaning she might’ve known that I had to go since the damn resort hours ago. She made me drink water a few times, and now she was so turned on I couldn’t believe it. Then there was the time at my house when she made me drink again and had me sit in her lap, and didn’t get disgusted when I wet myself and her. And then there was that competition…

After the wave died down a bit I gave her a look. “You’re…you’re turned on by seeing me need to pee, aren’t you?” I asked.

She looked like a deer caught in headlights, blushing. She looked away, nodding.

I laughed. I couldn’t believe it. “What’s so funny?” she asked, frowning.

“You could’ve just asked me to hold it for you,” I purred, teasing her despite my own situation. “We could’ve planned this out instead of me almost wetting myself multiple times today.”

And now she looked surprised. “Really? You…you don’t mind?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but another wave hit my bladder as a huge spurt leaked out. I squirmed and took advantage of her surprise, pushing her hand away and grabbing myself with my own. “Discuss later, I’m gonna lose it,” I told her. It was no use, there was no way in hell I could hold it.

She looked around again. “Stand up.” I did, feeling even more desperate as my bladder shifted. She pulled my already soaked shorts down and pushed me onto the bench. “Go.”

Despite me really, really needing to go I couldn’t. My nerves were sky-high, and I was worried that I’d get caught. She took notice and put her hand in between my legs again, rubbing my clit while kissing a sensitive spot on my neck. A steady leak came out, but nothing more. Her other hand reached around and, out of fucking nowhere, put all of its weight on my bladder.

That broke the dam. Pee gushed out of me at a surprising rate, splattering on the ground in front of us. I moan loudly, using a hand to cover my mouth. She was still rubbing my clit, and I quickly feel an orgasm building. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” I warned her.

“As you wish.” She took her thumb and jammed it against my clit, causing me to unravel. I came, still pissing hard. I swore I saw stars behind my eyes, unable to be quiet at all. My orgasm stopped before I was done peeing, and she merely stared in awe.

After about two minutes it finally died down. The puddle was dribbling towards the street, and we sat about 7 feet from the curb. She shuffled around a bit, clearly turned on by everything. I could only pant, feeling heavily relieved. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you later,” I promised.

A devilish grin appeared on her face as I said that. “Well, you did drink a lot, didn’t you?”

(And that’s that. Alright, my bladder is about to explode. I was gonna finish and add the second half of the story to this, but I’m honestly about to piss myself. Maybe I’ll post it later…Bye!)

#desperatelyfullforever #story #fuck i had to go so bad #didn't think i would last so long #but now i know her weaknesses so it's ok

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chronicbatfictioner · 6 years

Text

Theater of the Soul - Chapter 6

They'd spoken in tongues around him, he'd heard. None of them knew that he understood them.

"<You crazy enough to take the boy away from him, you bastard, then you should be crazy enough to eliminate him!>"

He hadn't recognized the voice. But the language was Hispanic - a learned language, not a street- or birth-earned language. He'd suspected a white, upper-class somebody being there other than... than the horror that is the clown. He had not heard the reply, only that it was followed by a lot of loud noises. Ugly, loud noises. The last time he had heard those kind of noises, cops were later seen leaving the apartment next to his after taping the door with bright yellow ribbons.

And then he was leaving. He'd had no idea where to, or how. Just that he was leaving. Leaving all the noises behind.

And there was a lot of blood in his line of sight. Only he wasn't sure if it was his line of sight or his own eyes. Maybe it had been him bleeding. Maybe he'd caused the bleeding, he couldn't be sure. He knew there were others - warm, soft bodies.

And then everything was cold and chilly again. There was so much pain, too. And he'd kept moving. Somehow, his brain had told him to keep moving, ignore the pain and just keep moving. That keep moving would be his best bet to survive.

Barbara's friends were... scary ladies, if anyone would ask Tim. Fortunately, no one would ask. And they looked... well, Dinah Lance and Helena Bertinelli looked like they'd just walked out of 'The Gladiator' movie set - almost complete with Roman gladiator garb. They were both tall, and even if Tim's brain said that Barbara would've been just as tall if not for her wheelchair, the two ladies still looked imposing to him.

The three of them, Tim thought, looked very colorful - with Barbara's flaming red hair and fair skin, Dinah Lance's platinum blonde hair and peachy-tan skin, and Helena Bertinelli's jet black hair and dark chocolate skin.

And yes, he did not hide his surprise well when Helena said that she was a primary school teacher. "Does that mean I'll have to call you Miss Bertinelli?" he asked, only half joking because he did feel like he was still in Primary School.

Helena was glaring at him, and Tim hoped that she would at least be amused.

"You're... what? Ninth grader?" she asked.

Tim frowned. "I've graduated high school last year." he scowled. Yes, he was small even for 15. But he still has time to get some much-needed growth spurts, surely. Like one or two - or a dozen.

She looked surprised. "Well! A genius, Barbara? Who'da thunk it." she smirked.

"I would. His grandpa was Jeremiah Galavan." Barbara said, almost smugly. "The guy who almost singlehandedly built the wastewater treatment plant in Gotham. Even when everyone was laughing at him. I'm not surprised that Tim has his brain."

"Here I am thinking that Bruce would only take people with high theatrical aptitude." Dinah Lance said.

"My parents were stage actors." Tim told her. "That's how I know Bruce. They... left me in his custody when they died."

"That's nice of them..." Helena quipped. "So close in the heels of..." then she paused.

"He didn't take me in to replace Jason!" Tim snarled. "I was officially adopted before Jason left!"

"He never take anyone to replace anybody," Dinah said, practically calming him. "Bruce takes orphaned children because of his own deep need to make sure you won't be lost in the system. Like some of his..." she paused and meet his gaze, "... earlier acquaintances." she finished. Tim suddenly got the thought that by 'acquaintances', she had meant herself.

"Matter at hand, ladies." Barbara reminded them.

"I'll go with the little genius bird." Helena stated, her voice sounded challenging.

Tim just sighed. He was not in the mood for arguing. It was already past 10.30 and he felt that they would be kind of wasting time if they were to argue on who rides with who. "Whatever." he said. "Can we go now? The addresses were arranged by location, anyway, and we've got some solid 33 thousand square miles to cover." he cringed inwardly, suddenly thinking just how small Gotham City suddenly felt.

"Relax, kiddo. We'll find him." Dinah patted his shoulder gently. "Bruce should've..." and she pressed her lips, willing herself not to say anything more.

"I don't disagree, Bruce should've asked for help back then. But that door is closed already. Now we move on." Barbara didn't snap, but her tone implied so. "We will find Jason. Even if it means knocking every damn door in the whole county of Los Angeles."

"Babs and I can start at the north side, from here onward to Antelope Valley areas." Dinah said. "You take the beaches?"

"Will do." Helena said.

"It's not like my wheelchair would be bothered with the beaches, you know." Barbara cocked her eyebrow at them. Her wheelchair was specially made - lacking the back handles because she didn't like to be pushed by anyone else; and has reinforced all-terrain wheels.

"Nothing to do with your wheelchair, hun. Southward are usually populated with family ones. While northward are veterans and otherwise." Dinah replied calmly. "They see your wheelchair and they'll be more inclined to talk than otherwise."

"Psychological query." Tim acknowledged.

"Yes, little bird, you got that right." Dinah gave him a finger-gun salute. Tim almost grinned.

Their plan for today was to prowl the homeless areas, as well as stopping by at Napier-owned buildings or whatever property he has. Tim was a little proud that Barbara did not shot down his suspicion that the reason Bruce hadn't been able to find Jason right off the bat would have been because Napier had somehow hidden Jason somewhere. He was not at any hospitals back then, and the only record of him showed that he was checked out of LA General Hospital a week after he was admitted. Bruce had even pulled all the stops by asking a load of favors from his friends to ask if any of the private rehab centers and/or hospitals would have had Jason there - to no avail.

Hence, really, Tim's suspicion that Napier was not what he appeared to be. Not 'merely' a stage critic, but was hiding something else. When the Harley Quinn club opened a mere few months after Jason went missing - based on the date of the accident and his last known whereabout as he was signed out of the hospital, Tim's suspicion was vindicated.

And his suspicion lead him to poke around the internet and unternet - the dark side of the web - to find out who the hell this Napier guy really is. Said poking around also provided him with a list of assets belonging to Napier, mostly in Los Angeles County area - much to his relief; a small number in Gotham. Dick would poke around at the Gotham ones - excluding Quinn's club - with Barbara's father, James Gordon, in the guise of finding a place for himself. James Gordon, the city's Mayor, would be a good smokescreen - no pun intended for his smoking habit, really - to hide their true purpose.

Tim has to begrudgingly admitted - albeit inwardly - that explaining the general gist of things to Helena was easier now that he has had time to mull it over and brainstorm it with Barbara. They have barely gotten a block away from the Penthouse when Tim's presentation of his theory finished.

"So how is it a brainiac kid like you get roped to the ever-glamorous world of showbiz?" Helena asked. "Yeah, I get it that your folks were in it. But you could've gotten yourself a scholarship somewhere, MIT? Ivy? I mean, why stay?"

Tim fiddled with the camera on his lap. The camera would be their cover story - building Helena's portfolio at interesting locations, or having her pretend to be a reporter if all else fails. "Why should I?" he asked.

"Why should you what?"

"Why should I go for technical stuff just because I'm a genius?" he pressed. "Why can't I be in arts, just because I can work out how a supercomputer works, or how a robot can move and walk and talk at the same time? Why can't I be a painter, or singer, or photographer?"

There was a few good seconds' worth of silence following Tim's questions, and he knew he'd stumped Helena.

"You're right. I actually never thought of it that way." she finally admitted. "Most of the kids in my school are average. There are a few with above-average intelligence, and they all tend to lean toward sciences."

"They do that because through science - things that has absolute, numerical and alphabetical quantifier - because they can prove their intellects through it. How about languages? Did you know that the English language - while the second most spoken language in the world, has significantly less amount of words? As in, it has only one word that defined art: 'work'. Bengali language has five, Russian has four, Arabic has five. That, to me, is interesting. Would you like to know how I found that out?" Tim asked, almost coyly.

"Okay, I'll bite. How did you find that out?"

"Jason Todd told me. People tend to think him stupid, just because he was a street urchin and didn't get to be schooled to show his academic skills. But he speaks five languages fluently. All of which he'd learned on his own by reading the books at the library. Is he not a genius, then?"

"Ah," she nodded. "I get it. There are many types of genius, and the more visible ones are those with science-based aptitude."

"Yes, that should answer your question on why I'm not interested with scholarships. I don't need them to do what I love. And what I love is--" Tim suddenly clamped his mouth shut, realizing his true motive in doing this. It has nothing to do with what he loved to do - taking photographs, sharing the printed evidence of things he could easily pull out from his memories with vivid details. Not because he'd wanted to 'save' Jason. Not because he didn't want to see Bruce upset and stressed.

He wanted to do this so that he could earn his place within the Wayne family. He wanted to prove that Bruce taking him was not a mistake. So that Jason would stop being mad at him. So that Jason would come home.

Before Helena could finish her questioning, thankfully, they were approaching their first target location,

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Barbara Gordon #Dinah Lance #Helena Bertinelli #JayTim #SoulTheater!AU #no-capeAU #BatFam

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