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imonthinice · 3 years

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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 22/?

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (Your best friend's name)

We're back, we're in full swing, we've hit like 50 followers, we've hit 500 notes. We're thriving.

Also! Fun fact but I can't actually watch Young Justice season 3 (and 4) or Titans :/ They're on DC Universe, which is only available in America. (If you can't catch on, I'm not from America lol)

Warnings: Swearing, Description of Injury, Kidnapping, Police/ Justice System, Manipulation attempts, Gaslighting, Violence, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20) (Part 21) (Part 22)

The days became longer and kept bothering Y/N. She was losing grip on reality. Aria would come in occasionally and feed her. Give her water. Let her use the bathroom. She was stuck. She wanted to knock off that stupid fucking bird plague doctor mask and, look her pathetic sister in her eyes. And let Aria know that she knew, she knew who it was.

But she was backed into a corner. And the mask was not going to come off anytime. Boy, oh boy, she wanted it to fall. She wanted it to slip so she could boot it into the walls she had become accustomed to. She wanted it to fall and shatter.

Aria came into the room like normal, to be greeted by Y/N not even looking her in the eyes.

"Come here, love," Aria said.

"Go to Hell."

"I need to use you for a "Proof of Life" video. So I can use you for ransom. Come here."

"No."

"Come here. Now," Aria said, voice getting more hoarse and pissed off with Y/N and her actions.

"No."

"Come. Here. Now!" She screeched.

"No!"

She felt Aria's claws grab her wrists and dig in, she could feel the blood seeping through the claws from her wrists. Aria pushed her into the wall, still gripping her wrists and letting the blood flow down Y/N's arms.

"Listen here, you fucking bitch," Aria said, dropping her voice a few octaves, to seem intimidating. "I want that money. If you don't cooperate, I'll kill you."

Y/N whimpered but spat at her sister, "You'll fucking die trying."

Aria wrestled Y/N into her seat and handcuffed her to it. She then set up the video camera.

"And, recording. Talk."

"I fucking hate you."

"You should."

"Go to fucking Hell."

"The date is February 14th. Here," she shoved a newspaper into the view of the camera, Y/N didn't even notice Aria bring it in. She saw the article on the back of her kidnapping. She knew people were still talking.

"Here is the date. On a newspaper. This video will be released today. If I don't get the money within a week, I'll kill her. Along with the Waynes."

Y/N gulped. This just got so much more real than she was expecting.

Aria left the room, with Y/N still handcuffed to the chair. She took in the room she had become used to. She had spent a week in captivity, expecting the vigilantes of Gotham to come and get them, but they didn't. She was confused as to why-

Wait a damn minute, she thought. Are you- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait. Oh my god? The family is in captivity, the vigilantes haven't come for us yet, are- she paused. Are they the vigilantes? There's no way, they can't be- Can they? They can- Can't they, huh? Fuck. We're- We're not getting out anytime soon. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This is a God damn pickle we've gotten into. Aria must know what I think, the family- she paused, almost as if she didn't believe what she was thinking. That they're the Gotham vigilantes. She must- Fuck!

I don't care that they didn't tell me- she thought like someone could read her thoughts. She figured that someone might be able to. She knew that Martian Manhunter had those abilities. she figured that Miss Martian, who she didn't see often, likely shared those abilities.

I care that we might be fucked.

---------------------------------------

Before she knew it, that exact day, she figured, February 14th? The door was broken down by Superman. This just put the pieces together more for Y/N. Her assumptions about the Waynes being the Gotham vigilantes were just seeming more likely as time went on.

Superman uncuffed her and she thanked him before running out to where Aria was being arrested by the Gotham police. But she didn't stop, and she knocked off Aria's mask.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Aria said, nonchalantly.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Y/N mocked. "You fucking bitch!" she yelled and pushed Aria, while the police tried to detain her. She struggled and tried to attack Aria further, "Let go! I know her power of attorney is going to be her sister-"

"How do you know that?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"Because her sister is me!" She yelled when she finally broke away from the police, trying to get closer to Aria, before Commissioner Gordon stopped her, grabbing her arms and squeezing lightly. She stared at him, dead-faced. No emotions were there, other than anger, raw, seething anger.

Aria laughed, "Oops. I guess the jig is up."

Y/N was seething, she didn't even notice the JLA and the rest of the Waynes were behind her. She was still struggling to get towards Aria, yelling and just making noise.

She was making a scene, but she didn't care. She felt betrayed.

"You fucking bitch. You absolutely pathetic piece of shit."

"Keep yelling at me, Y/N. Mom and Dad will be disappointed in you. They always are, aren't they?"

Y/N turned to Commissioner Gordon, who was still holding her in place, "You either get her out of my fucking face in 5 seconds or I'm going to hurt her. That's not a threat," she turned to Aria, "That's a fucking promise."

"We might have to detain you at this rate, Y/N."

"And I would understand that, but I'm going to hurt her."

"Ma'am, calm down." Commissioner Gordon said before waving his hand and the other police took Aria into the back of a police car. "I'm going to have to arrest you," he said, trying to show sympathy for the pain that Y/N was in.

"Then do it already," Y/N mumbled, eyes still locked on the police car her sister was in.

"Gordon?" Jason called, "I swear, I've never seen this much anger in her. I'm sure you can send her home with us."

"You better be right about that, Jason."

"I really think I am right."

Gordon looked at Y/N, which she caught in the corner of her eye. She could tell he was upset about this, he was trying to get to her, to get her to understand her anger was okay, but beating her sister wasn't.

And then Aria waved as they drove her to the station.

But she wasn't even paying attention and before she knew it, she was in Jason's arms. He was holding her while talking to the police about the attack. He had his hands wrapped around her waist while he was behind her, maximizing the ability he had to stop her should she run.

He knew what he was doing, and it was working to calm her slightly, to the point where the police were able to talk to her about her experience with the attacker they knew as Hour, or as Arianna (Last name).

Once they were done with questioning her, they spoke more to Jason, who still had her in his grasp.

She surveyed the area and noticed that Bruce was talking to Superman.

The pieces were all falling into place. She knew he had to be Batman at that moment.

And she wanted in on it.

The hopelessness she felt when Aria had her kidnapped was astronomical. She wanted to make sure no one ever felt that way again, not if she could help it. She wanted in on it all.

She thought back to Jason's stab wound, the scar still fresh. She knew it wasn't a mugging. It had to be him saving the city from peril. She realized how dumb she was for buying into that lie, but she wasn't mad at anyone in her vicinity.

She was mad- pissed- so far beyond angry at Aria.

She didn't know she could be so angry. She didn't know she had it in her to be so angry at Aria. But she was. She was so unbelievably pissed. Any mention of her name sent Y/N into seething anger, and Jason could feel her heart race in her body.

She wasn't paying attention to words anymore. She just wanted to get out of there, to go home. To her home, not Jason's. She didn't feel safe in the Wayne Manor anymore.

No one could blame her when she told the police to drive her to her house, not the Wayne Manor. Jason just hugged her and asked when he could see her next. She told him in the morning. "Or," she added, "At 3 in the morning. I don't care. Just leave me alone right now."

Everyone understood. They didn't have their own sister kidnap them after all.

She got to her house and got inside, A/N immediately trying to flag her down to talk to her, but she just put up a hand and waved her off. Slinking to her room without a second thought and locking the door.

She didn't want to talk about it. The thoughts about her sister racing through her mind. The thoughts about how her boyfriend was a vigilante. How was she going to bring this up? How was she going to tell him that she knew? That she wanted in on the act? That she wanted to fight alongside him- and his family?

Before she knew it, and like clockwork, it was 3 in the morning. And Jason was knocking on her window. She assumed that he had tried to let himself into her room, but to no avail since she hadn't unlocked the door.

She went over to her window and unlocked it. She lifted it and Jason crawled in.

"I have a front door," she said.

"You didn't answer when I tried to knock on your door," he joked. "How are you holding up?"

"As well as anyone can in my situation."

"Well, everyone wishes you came home with us, so we could watch you on your first night away from-"

"From my sister?"

"I was going to say from captivity."

"So, my sister."

"Yeah, that."

"Uh-huh."

"So, anyway," Jason said, trying to get Y/N's mind off of Aria. "Did you sleep when you got here?" he asked.

"No. I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Lost in thought. There's a lot of thoughts, not enough brain," she joked. "You probably get that part."

"I do-"

"When were you going to tell me?" she but in.

"Tell you what?" he questioned, confused.

"That you're one of the vigilantes," she answered, studying his face. He seemed taken aback by the statement and tried to avert her gaze. Oh yeah, he knows what I'm on about, she thought.

"I-"

"You know what I'm on about, Jay. You know I know so don't lie anymore."

"Y/N-"

"No. You know I know. I know you know. Don't lie anymore. I'm not even ad at the lies, you're trying to keep me safe, obviously."

"Oh."

"The truth is, babe, I want in."

"What!?"

(Oh my god? Are we going to get Red Hood action? (The answer is yes, in due time)

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obxparadise · 4 years

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Red Flags

JJ Maybank x Reader

Word Count: 1,937

Requested: @maybebanks

~A fic in which JJ finds out you’ve been abused by your boyfriend, Rafe~

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and drugs

A/N: If you enjoyed this, leave a comment!

*GIF is not mine. Credit to the owner.*

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

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re worthless.”

“I don’t know what I see in you.”

Another day, another insult, another bruise.

The diamond tile floor is cold against your body. Blood is pumping through your veins, dripping from your lip, and soaking through your white tank top. Words are on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t speak. You know better. Speaking would be signing your death sentence, and you aren’t ready to die just yet. There’s still some fight left in you.

Rafe Cameron stands over you, his once pale face now red with fury, hands balled into fists that have drops of your blood on them. He breathes hard, eyes wide and darting around the room in a frenzy. His arms are shaking and his pupils, usually small and scrutinizing, are larger than normal. There’s only one reason for it.

Cocaine.

And he loves it more than you.

That was the first red flag. His obsession with cocaine clouded his mind, fucked with his ability to think straight. At the start of your relationship, he hid it. Three months later, you walked into his room and caught him snorting the end of a line. And you ignored it.

He’d stolen from his father Ward, several times. That was the second red flag. Rafe was blessed to have been born into a wealthy family. He never worked a day in his life. The drug money came from Ward’s private safe, or from gold watches Rafe had pawned off without his father’s knowledge. And as you watched Rafe steal ten thousand dollars from the safe, you ignored it.

You arrived at his house three minutes later than you said you would. The party had gotten out of hand and you lost track of time. As you tried to explain and calm him down, his hand connected with your cheek. Red flag number three. Ignored.

“I used to get chills looking at you,” Rafe says, emotionless. “Now? I’m fucking sick of looking at you.”

There was a time Rafe Cameron did love you, if only briefly, if only for two months. He courted you, kissed you, held your hand in public. He opened doors for you, complimented you, and made love to you.

No more.

His kisses? Replaced with bruises.

Compliments? What were those?

You watch as Rafe stiffens, the sound of a car door slamming shut startling the both of you. The glass table in the dining room is just out of reach. You peer up at Rafe through wet lashes just in time to see him pull you to your feet.

His thumb collects leftover blood from your lip. It’s the closest thing to a tender touch you’ve received in years. As you stare into his eyes, you notice his pupils have shrunk down to their normal size.

“Rafe, I--.”

“Get yourself changed,” he says, eyes flickering to your blood-stained shirt. With one last look, he turns his back. “And get out of my sight.”

~~~

The Chateau is your safe haven. Though old and run down, John B’s little shack feels more like a home than the spare bedroom in the Cameron mansion. The room is occupied by whoever decides to crash there, either by yourself or JJ. This time, it was yours.

Standing in front of the mirror, you slowly lift your shirt, sucking in a breath at the sight of the bright purple bruise decorating your hip. Slightly pulling down your bathing suit bottoms, you sighed as you noticed another bruise, small and brown. How are you supposed to go swimming like this?

“Knock, knock,” Pope says, tapping the door. You pull down your shirt just in time. “Ready to go?”

No, you’re not, but staying back will only cause suspicion, and the last thing you need is the Pogues asking questions.

~~~

The sun is warm on your skin, water cold as your feet hang off the side of the HMS Pogue. A beer in your hand, you watch as Kiara and Pope play a game of Marco Polo. John B treads in the water, staying close to you, while JJ continuously throws himself off the boat.

“How was that splash?” JJ asks, lifting a hand to block the sun from his eyes.

“Eh, I give it a four,” you tease. “I’ve seen better.”

“Show me how it’s done, then,” JJ challenges, pulling himself up onto the boat. Water drips from his sun kissed skin, bathing suit clinging to his thighs. “You haven’t even gotten in the water yet today.”

“Today?” John B snickers. “We’ve been out here four days this week. You love to swim, Y/N, what’s up with you?”

You offer John B a shrug. “Just you know, not feeling it.”

“That’s code for time of the month,” JJ grins, screeching as your hand barely misses hitting his leg.

“That’s what tampons are for, JJ,” Kiara shouts.

You snort and take another swig of beer, cringing underneath John B’s skeptical gaze. Normally, he’s able to see right through you. Right now, you pray he can’t.

~~~

“Y/N, there’s pizza out here,” Pope calls out.

“I’ll be right in,” you answer from the spare room. Stripping off your bathing suit, you throw it in a pile on the floor before pulling on a pair of black sweatpants and an old OBX hoodie. The side of your hip throbs slightly and you wince, lifting the hoodie to reexamine the bruise. Your fingertips brush over the swollen flesh just as John B pushes open the door, freezing in place.

A breath is trapped in your throat as you quickly cover the bruise, swallowing as John B’s eyes burn into yours.

“Y/N…” John B says slowly. He approaches carefully, noticing the apprehension on your face. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s a bruise,” you reply simply. “I fell down the last few steps at Rafe’s house. No biggie. Y’all know I’m clumsy.”

“Y/N,--.”

“John B,” your voice has an edge to it. “I’m fine. It was an accident,” you pat his cheek softly, offering a smile. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

~~~

“I need to talk to you.”

As you, Kiara, and Pope tend to the bonfire, John B pulls JJ aside. His lip is raw from the constant biting, wondering how he is supposed to break the news to his best friend.

“What’s up, man?” JJ asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He notices the uneasiness in John B’s eyes. “Bro, you good?”

“I think,” John B pulls a hand through his hair. “I think Y/N is in trouble.”

JJ stiffens. “What kind of trouble?”

“Rafe trouble,” John B replies, gnawing the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to make any assumptions…”

“Spit it out.”

John B sighs. “I think he hits her.”

Tension in the air is thick as both boys remain unmoving. The blood in JJ’s body runs cold as the words process in his brain. “What do you mean you think?”

“On her hip,” John B says, lowering his voice. He pulls up his shirt, demonstrating. “There’s a huge bruise. She acted like it was nothing, but JJ, I swear to you, I saw it.”

“Where’s my gun?” JJ asks, fists balled tightly as he begins to head back toward the Chateau.

John B’s hand stops him. “Not now, bro. You’re on probation. This isn’t the time to be stupid. I just figured maybe you could talk to her, since you know…” John B motions to the fading black and blue rim around JJ’s eye.

“This is Y/N we’re talking about,” JJ shoots back, voice pained. “I’d die for any one of you. But for her, I’d kill a man.”

~~~

You search the Chateau rooms, gathering as many blankets as your arms can carry. Pope is fixing the fire as Kiara sets up individual chairs for everyone to sit in.

Checking the spare room, you peek under the bed for any extra blankets, and the bedroom door slams shut, startling you. Peering over the bed from your knees, a distraught JJ stands with his back against the door.

“I’ll be out in a second, just getting blankets.”

“We need to talk.”

The four words no one ever wants to hear. Swallowing, you pull yourself to your feet, reminding yourself to keep your composure. “What’s up?”

JJ says nothing at first, eyes directed at the floor as he flicks the lighter in his hand. Sweat drips down your back as he finally looks up at you. “How are you, Y/N?”

Not what you were expecting. “I’m good. How are you?” You step up to him, abandoning the blankets in your hand to touch the ring around his eye. He flinches, and your heart breaks. I know how it feels, you think to yourself. “Your eye is looking much better.”

“Better than your hip,” JJ mutters.

You step back, blinking. “W-what?”

“When the hell were you going to tell me Rafe beats you?” JJ’s voice is gravelly as he steps toward you. “What the fuck happened to Pogues for life, huh?”

“JJ, what are you talking about?” You ask defensively, praying your face doesn’t betray you. “Rafe doesn’t hit me. Why are you accusing him?”

“So you’re saying he doesn’t?” JJ sneers. He pulls a hand through his blonde hair, tugging the ends before slapping his palm against his thigh. “I noticed today your lip was split down the middle. How’d that happen?”

The walls seem to close around you. Your chest constricts, labored breaths leaving your mouth. You can’t speak, only stare as JJ’s eyes scan your face. “I, uh, b-bit it too hard.”

Unconvinced, he steps forward, grabbing your jaw before you can move. There’s hurt in his eyes, and fear in yours. “Lift up your shirt.”

“JJ, don’t--.”

“Lift up your shirt,” he repeats quietly, lip quivering. “It’s just you and me.”

Tears gather in your eyes as the realization hits you. He knows.

Your fingers shake as they grab the bottom of your hoodie, lifting slowly to reveal the bruise. JJ immediately sucks in a breath, the size of the bruise unsettling. His hand goes to your hip just as you pull away from him. JJ’s heart sinks as a tear slides down your face. He reaches out and collects it with his thumb, gently rubbing your cheek as your head leans into his touch. “How long?”

“Two years,” you say, hiding the bruise once more. “I would’ve hidden it longer if J.B. didn’t open his mouth.”

“He shouldn’t have had to tell me,” JJ responds, gaze fixated on your face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would you have done?”

“I would have been there for you!” He says it without hesitation, offended that you even had to ask. “You were the first person I told about my father. Shit, you were there for me more than anyone. You didn’t let me struggle by myself. And now…and now I find out this whole time, you’ve been letting yourself suffer when you know any one of us would’ve helped you.”

His words hurt, but they’re the truth. “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

JJ’s hands find your face, cupping your cheeks as your fingers wrap around his wrists. “I am always going to worry about you,” he rests his forehead against yours, and there’s something intimate about the gesture. “Always.”

Sighing, you pull JJ in for a hug, nestling your face in his neck as his arms circle your waist. His embrace is warm and you sink into it. A protective barrier. And for once in your life, you feel safe.

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imagine-nation20 · 4 years

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Mutants, and Magic, and Stones, Oh My

Summary: After the fighting stops, and everyone returns to the mansion to get back to their semi-normal lives, they meet an unexpected guest.

Requested: No? But also yes, by an anon

Request:Wild card! write whatever you hell you want to read! (or don't, if you don't feel like it)

Pairing: Sean Cassidy X Reader (Sort of. Its hinted at)

A/N: I’ve had this idea in my head for a very long time, but I haven’t seen to First Class movie since… like it came out? So excuse my weird lack of information. This was just a fun idea that I felt like writing, and thank you to the anon for giving me the means to do so! Also, reader is hinted more towards being female, so sorry.

~~~

Stephen Strange stared at you from across his desk. “I’m not angry,” He started.

You groaned in response, “Please don’t do that, ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed’ speech, okay? I get it, I screwed up-”

“By almost destroying the New York Sanctum,” He grumbled back.

“But I didn’t,” You insisted, crossing your arms in a huff.

“(Y/N),” He tilted his head, hands clasping in front of him on the desk. “You’re a smart kid, but I took you on as my personal apprentice under the assumption that you would set an example.”

You threw your hands up, “I have, Doctor Strange,” you insisted, “I’m the best in the entire sanctum, maybe even every sanctum! I never lose a sparring match, I practise every spell given to me until I’ve perfected it, and yet, I make one little mistake, and suddenly I’m a disappointment?”

“I never said-”

“What do I have to do to prove to you I’m taking this seriously?” You asked, eyes wide in an earnest plea.

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose, and you could have sworn you saw three new grey hairs sprout from his head. He was silent, staring down at his hands, which were now rested flat on his desk. His eyes trailed to you.

He had taken you in as his apprentice on a whim. A car crash, which should have been fatal, instead left you paralyzed from the waist down. He had come to you in the hospital, clad in strange robes and a bright red cape, talking of magic and giving you back you ability to walk. You had thought he was crazy, if not for the demonstration he gave in the middle of your scramble to call a nurse or doctor.

You had accepted without any further fight. If you could get your freedom back, you would take it. So, you studied. Harder than any other apprentice. You weren’t going to take this miracle opportunity for granted. If Stephen told you to jump from a cliff, you would, with the faith that he knew what he was doing, and it would better your training.

So when he pulled the Eye of Agamotto from his neck, you tried not to let your jaw drop to the floor.

“There are disturbances, I can feel it through the eye,” He mumbled. “Something, or someone, is messing with the timeline.”

“And?”

He took a deep breath, sliding the eye across the desk to you, “And I want you to go back and fix it.”

“You-” You stuttered. “You want me to use the eye to go back and stop someone from messing up the past?”

“Yes,” He shrugged. “I would do it, but I have to look after the Sanctum, make sure we can recover from this recent setback,’ He leveled you with a look.

“Are you sure you want me to do it?” You asked, reaching out hesitantly.

“Weren’t you the one just grovelling for forgiveness?” He quirked a brow.

With that, you snatched up the eye, pulling it over your head and letting hang from your neck. The old, brassy metal and glowing green of the amulet contrasted with the white and grey of your robes.

“Take the staff with you,” Was his last fleeting comment, waving you from the room. “When you are ready, come find me in the training arena.”

You walked away, moving to prepare. Your robes, you switched out for more moveable, mission-like clothes. Black pants, tucked tight into brown, wrapped boot. Next came the long sleeved, brown undershirt, which had arm guards wrapped over top, then a darker, short sleeve top. A cloth, which looked like a long strip of bright red material with a hole dead center for her head. You slipped it over, each part hanging down past your knees. A thick, black belt held it all together, with a paler, brown cloth wrapped over top to hide a dagger sheath.

It was a lot of layers, and took you awhile to get on. The final touches consisted of the eye, which was tucked under the red cloth, and the brown straps to hold your staff. At your waist hung a small spellbook.

Stephen was meditating when you showed up.

“Good, you grabbed the book,” He never opened his eyes. “You will need it, seeing as you wont have access to the Sanctums where you are going.”

“Which was going to be my first question,” You said. “Where am I going?”

“1962, New York,” He said. “What do you know about mutants?”

~~~

“Come on, Alex,” Sean smirked.

The blonde shook his head, “I am not helping you push Hank off the roof as payback,” Alex pushed the redhead away.

“But he deserves a taste of his own medicine,” Sean was adamant that this was fair play, despite the slight flaw to his plan.

“Hank doesn’t have the ability to fly, Cassidy,” Alex stood from his spot on the couch, moving towards the exit to the sitting room.

“So? I couldn’t fly when he pushed me,” Sean snarked.

They walked through the almost empty halls of the mansion. Despite Charles’ claims that they would soon have students wandering the halls, it was still quiet even weeks after the incident on the beach. Charles hadn’t quite recovered yet, and those who still remained in the mansion were hesitant in thinking he ever really would.

From down the hallway, Hank turned the corner, Charles beside him in his wheelchair. Sean was about to open his mouth to snark at the tall brunette in a lab coat, when a commotion outside hit his ears. A glance out the window from the four pairs of eyes left them all speechless.

In the gravel of the driveway, to the right of the fountain, was carved out by a large crater. It looked like a meteor had hit, despite no previous signs, and no fire. From within the crater, a green glow spread out.

The four glanced at each other.

“Uh, Professor…” Alex whispered.

“I don’t know,” Was Charles' answer to the unasked question. “Let us find out, shall we?”

Outside, there was no scent of smoke or fire. Instead, a metallic tang on electricity hung in the air, the tingle setting everyone’s arm hairs on end. The light from within the crater faded.

A hand appeared, grasped onto the ledge of the crater. Their palms were caked in dirt, but the back of their hand was surprisingly clean.

From within the crater, you grunted, cursing out Stephen in whatever language came to mind--even the more ancient ones. With great effort, and the use of already sore muscles, you pulled yourself from the hole your impact into the year made.

Upon rising from with depths, you locked eyes witha group of very shocked men. You must’ve looked crazy, with your old-looking robes and metal-tippedstaff. The glowing green necklace probably didn’t help.

“Hi,” You said awkwardly, “One of you wouldn’t happen to be Charles Xavier, would you?”

One of the older members of the group, who was in a metallic wheelchair, raised a hesitant hand. You smiled, sighing.

“Great, that makes my job way easier,” You joked. “I’ll be quick, but I’m from the future, someone from my time is trying to change this past, and I’m here to stop it.”

The redhead, standing stock still in the front, choked out an odd noise. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, as he collapsed.

“...oops,” You shrugged.

When Sean Cassidy came too, he could’ve sworn he had died and gone to heaven. You hovered over him, a pale yellow light emitting from the sigils you created over him. You smiled, hesitant and almost guilty.

“Sorry about all that,” You said. “Didn’t realize how shocking it would be if I just unloaded all of that.”

You were in one of the many sitting rooms, Sean sprawled out on the ugly, floral print couch. His head hurt, but the pain was quickly subsiding with every pulse of light from the sigils.

“What…” He trailed off.

You followed his eyes, seeing the confusion, “Oh, I guess I explain to the others, but not to you. I’m a… magician, of sorts. These are healing spells, I hoped they would help.”

“Magic,” Sean whispered, eyes wide.

You nodded.

“Are you a mutant?” He asked.

With a laugh, you shook your head, “No, I was human, up until about a year ago,” You explained.

The symbols disappeared, a smile stretching onto your face, you mumbled an ‘all better’, before helping him sit up.

“I feel bad that I made you pass out though,” You said.

“It’s fine,” Sean smiled. “At least I have a good nurse.”

Alex came strolling in at that moment, the calm mood rupturing with his loud steps. His blonde hair, which had previously been combed and well kept, was now sticking up in odd places.

“Professor wants to speak with you,” Alex said to you.

You nodded, shooting one last smile to Sean, before getting up to leave. As you rounded the corner out of the room, Sean spoke up.

“Am I hallucinating?” He asked his friend.

Alex chuckled, patting him on the back harshly, “No,” He sent him a sly look. “You really did pass out in front of the pretty girl from the future.”

“God dammit.”

#xmen first class #xmen imagine #xmen oneshot #sean cassidy #sean cassidy x reader #sean cassidy imagine #sean cassidy oneshot

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keichan · 4 years

Text

Running Through the Night Tsukishima Kei x fem!reader Part 4: Not Here

You and Tsukishima have been friends for as long as you two could remember. With a very unexpected confession, how will this affect you two?

Authors note: I actually wrote this as soon as I released part 3 but I just wanted to think on it for a bit and see how I could make it better (:

Word count: 1242

Genre: college au, unrequited love, angst, best friends to lovers, fluff somewhere in there, mutual pining

Warnings: manga time skip!!!

Send me a message or ask to be added to the taglist !

masterlist・previous・next

You woke up in the late afternoon with the sun peaking through the blinds in dim rays. You sat up on the couch and looked around to see no one there.

Maybe his hangover was so bad that he’s still asleep? You walk towards the mirror in the hallway. You look a mess. Your face is puffy from the night before and your hair unruly. You sigh, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and patting your hair down to the best of your abilities before continuing the walk down the hall. You were ready to talk about last night.

Tsukishima Kei confessed to you. Your best friend in the whole world is in love with you. The man attached to your hip for as long as you can remember. He kissed you. He was as vulnerable as you had ever seen him in your entire life. Though he was drunk and the words came fumbling out, his actions carried his feelings with a tender delicacy. How come you’ve never noticed before? It’s a known fact by everyone surrounding the two of you that he was gentler around you, but you never saw the need to pay it any kind. It isn’t your fault that you didn’t kiss him back if you never saw it coming? Right?

You slowly stepped into Tsukishima’s room. The door was already slightly ajar, already eliminating your suspicion from earlier. The room was empty. The bed was made. The glass on his nightstand wasn’t there. Kei was gone?

Perhaps he went to the grocery store? He never has work on Sundays so there’s no possible way that he’s there. You walk back to the couch to check your phone. It was only 2pm.

Zero notifications from Kei. Zero notifications from Yamaguchi. Just a ‘Great to see you’ text from Matsukawa.

Odd. Usually when he leaves you alone while you’re sleeping he lets you know where he’s going.

You call his phone to have you answer. You send a text and sit down with a sigh. He’ll come home eventually, you’ll just have to wait until then.

When you and Kei were children, no matter where you’d go, he’d follow with excitement. It was always whatever you wanted to do and it was good enough for him. From coloring, to playing in the park, walking to and from school together, hell he’d even play dolls with you.

Everything about you was so exciting from the day you two met. There wasn’t a moment that Kei wasn’t smiling around you. He didn’t know then that you would always be his happy place.

When Kei picked up volleyball from Akiteru. The roles in the friendship reversed at this time. You would help him practice in his backyard after school and on the weekends. Always being his number one fan at every match he’s had from childhood until now. Always following him around. His need to play was inspiring to watch. Seeing him being so happy over volleyball radiated brightly to you. As long as Kei was happy, you never felt the need to be sad.

His brother was always you and Kei’s biggest inspiration. With you personally not having any siblings, Akiteru made sure he was there as an older brother for you.

After Tadashi came into your lives the bond between the three of you was inseparable. However that’s around the time when Kei changed. The three of you went to Akiteru’s last game at Karasuno believing all of the stories that he has told you and Kei about being the ace. Kei shoved off his emotions that day and labeled his brother as pathetic, but you knew his heart broke. To see Akiteru across the gymnasium in the bleachers, not anywhere on the court, changed him. He turned on his heel and exited the gymnasium leaving you and Yamaguchi alone. Yamaguchi gave you a knowing look and you dipped his head and chased after the lanky boy.

“Kei! Kei! Kei!” You sprinted to catch up with the tall boy. You grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt. “Y/N! Stop! Leave me alone!” he yanked his arm out of your grasp and looked angrily away from you. You stood your ground. “Let me be the one you can depend on. I’ll always always always be there for you. I’ll never let you down.” You declared crossing your arms. Kei didn’t say anything, but the shadow of a smile rested on his lips.

After that day Tsukishima became more reserved. Instead of moving along happily, among others he kept to himself. If anything minorly inconvenienced him, a snarky comment would have to fall from his lips. You would gently scold him and he wouldn’t do it again. He’d always lend a sly smile and go along with whatever you needed to do. Like when you two were children, he’d follow you around wherever you’d go and always have a faint smile when your presence was around. You being the light walked him through the dark. You became his safe place.

In Karasuno, you two managed to be in the same class every year. You consistently studied together during breaks and lunch. If anyone needed to know where you were, one could always depend on the assumption that you’re with Tsukishima.

You’d walk him to practice. Sometimes you’d peep in if you had nothing else to do. You managed to befriend the team and everyone was quite fond of you. Especially Hinata due to the fact that he was Kei’s favorite person to pick on. Everyone enjoyed your presence near the court because it noticeably dialed Tsukishima back….

You snapped out of your thoughts to see the living room covered in a pink hue from the sunset outside. You look down at your phone. It’s nearly 6 and he’s still not there. You dial his number again and place your phone to your ear.

He doesn’t answer.

You try to send some texts. The ones from earlier still not read.

You: Kei? Where are you? I’m still at your place. When are you coming home?

You: Are you okay? You haven’t been home in hours

You: We need to talk about what happened last night

Delivered

Eight more attempts of calling him to no avail. Many many more texts are sent to be kept on delivered. You sigh running your hands through your hair letting out a scream. It was now night time outside as you paced around the apartment anxiously.

You raise your phone to your ear, calling Yamaguchi.

“Yama, is Kei with you?”

“No? I haven’t seen him since I left the apartment last night. Why? What’s going on?”

“Umm.. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Bye Yama!”

“Bye, Y/N!”

Kei wasn’t going to come back home. You just knew it.

You don’t know what to do at this point. You look at your phone again and scroll through your contacts until you find the person you were looking for and place the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Senpai, I’m sorry I’m calling so late, but would you be able to pick me up from Kei’s house? I really need someone to talk to right now”

Twenty minutes later you walk outside and go up to a car pulled up on the sidewalk. You open the car door to immediately be greeted.

“How’s one of my favorite Kouhais doing? It’s been a while!” Sugawara Koushi smiled brightly at you.

please send an ask or message to be added!

taglist: @pipsqweaks @kapuching @pperapear @luvmonie @bumbledunce @a-listaire @ysasian @kodzu-ken @montys-chaos

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu college au #haikyuu angst #angst #mutual pining #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #haikyuu yamaguchi #sugawara #sugawara koushi

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lastsonlost · 4 years

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Crossing the divide

Do men really have it easier? These transgender guys found the truth was more complex.

In the 1990s, the late Stanford neuroscientist Ben Barres transitioned from female to male. He was in his 40s, mid-career, and afterward he marveled at the stark changes in his professional life. Now that society saw him as male, his ideas were taken more seriously. He was able to complete a whole sentence without being interrupted by a man. A colleague who didn’t know he was transgender even praised his work as “much better than his sister’s.”

Clinics have reported an increase in people seeking medical gender transitions in recent years, and research suggests the number of people identifying as transgender has risen in the past decade. Touchstones such as Caitlyn Jenner’s transition, the bathroom controversy, and the Amazon series “Transparent” have also made the topic a bigger part of the political and cultural conversation.

But it is not always evident when someone has undergone a transition — especially if they have gone from female to male.

“The transgender guys have a relatively straightforward process — we just simply add testosterone and watch their bodies shift,” said Joshua Safer, executive director at the Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery at Mount Sinai Health System and Icahn School of Medicine in New York. “Within six months to a year they start to virilize — getting facial hair, a ruddier complexion, a change in body odor and a deepening of the voice.”

Transgender women have more difficulty “passing”; they tend to be bigger-boned and more masculine-looking, and these things are hard to reverse with hormone treatments, Safer said. “But the transgender men will go get jobs and the new boss doesn’t even know they’re trans.”

We spoke with four men who transitioned as adults to the bodies in which they feel more comfortable. Their experiences reveal that the gulf between how society treats women and men is in many ways as wide now as it was when Barres transitioned. But their diverse backgrounds provide further insight into how race and ethnicity inform the gender divide in subtle and sometimes surprising ways.

(Their words have been lightly edited for space and clarity.)

‘I’ll never call the police again’

Trystan Cotten, 50, Berkeley, Calif.

Professor of gender studies at California State University Stanislaus and editor of Transgress Press, which publishes books related to the transgender experience. Transitioned in 2008.

Life doesn’t get easier as an African American male. The way that police officers deal with me, the way that racism undermines my ability to feel safe in the world, affects my mobility, affects where I go. Other African American and Latino Americans grew up as boys and were taught to deal with that at an earlier age. I had to learn from my black and brown brothers about how to stay alive in my new body and retain some dignity while being demeaned by the cops.

One night somebody crashed a car into my neighbor’s house, and I called 911. I walk out to talk to the police officer, and he pulls a gun on me and says, “Stop! Stop! Get on the ground!” I turn around to see if there’s someone behind me, and he goes, “You! You! Get on the ground!” I’m in pajamas and barefoot. I get on the ground and he checks me, and afterward I said, “What was that all about?” He said, “You were moving kind of funny.” Later, people told me, “Man, you’re crazy. You never call the police.”

I get pulled over a lot more now. I GOT PULLED OVER MORE IN THE FIRST TWO YEARS AFTER MY TRANSITION THAN I DID THE ENTIRE 20 YEARS I WAS DRIVING BEFORE THAT.

Before, when I’d been stopped, even for real violations like driving 100 miles an hour, I got off. In fact, when it happened in Atlanta the officer and I got into a great conversation about the Braves. Now the first two questions they ask are: Do I have any weapons in the car, and am I on parole or probation?

Being a black man has changed the way I move in the world.

I used to walk quickly or run to catch a bus. Now I walk at a slower pace, and if I’m late I don’t dare rush. I am hyper-aware of making sudden or abrupt movements, especially in airports, train stations and other public places. I avoid engaging with unfamiliar white folks, especially white women. If they catch my eye, white women usually clutch their purses and cross the street. While I love urban aesthetics, I stopped wearing hoodies and traded my baggy jeans, oversized jerseys and colorful skullcaps for closefitting jeans, khakis and sweaters. These changes blunt assumptions that I’m going to snatch purses or merchandise, or jump the subway turnstile. The less visible I am, the better my chances of surviving.

But it’s not foolproof. I’m an academic sitting at a desk so I exercise where I can. I walked to the post office to mail some books and I put on this 40-pound weight vest that I walk around in. It was about 3 or 4 in the afternoon and I’m walking back and all of a sudden police officers drove up, got out of their car, and stopped. I had my earphones on so I didn’t know they were talking to me. I looked up and there’s a helicopter above. And now I can kind of see why people run, because you might live if you run, even if you haven’t done anything. This was in Emeryville, one of the wealthiest enclaves in Northern California, where there’s security galore. Someone had seen me walking to the post office and called in and said they saw a Muslim with an explosives vest. One cop, a white guy, picked it up and laughed and said, “Oh, I think I know what this is. This is a weight belt.”

It’s not only humiliating, but it creates anxiety on a daily basis. Before, I used to feel safe going up to a police officer if I was lost or needed directions. But I don’t do that anymore. I hike a lot, and if I’m out hiking and I see a dead body, I’ll keep on walking. I’ll never call the police again.

‘It now feels as though I am on my own’

Zander Keig, 52, San Diego

Coast Guard veteran. Works at Naval Medical Center San Diego as a clinical social work case manager. Editor of anthologies about transgender men. Started transition in 2005.

Prior to my transition, I was an outspoken radical feminist. I spoke up often, loudly and with confidence.

I was encouraged to speak up. I was given awards for my efforts, literally — it was like, “Oh, yeah, speak up, speak out.” When I speak up now, I am often given the direct or indirect message that I am “mansplaining,” “taking up too much space” or “asserting my white male heterosexual privilege.” Never mind that I am a first-generation Mexican American, a transsexual man, and married to the same woman I was with prior to my transition.

Prior to my transition, I rarely considered how men experienced life or what they thought, wanted or liked about their lives.

I have learned so much about the lives of men through my friendships with men, reading books and articles by and for men and through the men I serve as a licensed clinical social worker.

Social work is generally considered to be “female dominated,” with women making up about 80 percent of the profession in the United States. Currently I work exclusively with clinical nurse case managers, but in my previous position, as a medical social worker working with chronically homeless military veterans — mostly male — who were grappling with substance use disorder and severe mental illness, I was one of a few men among dozens of women.

Plenty of research shows that life events, medical conditions and family circumstances impact men and women differently. But when I would suggest that patient behavioral issues like anger or violence may be a symptom of trauma or depression, it would often get dismissed or outright challenged. The overarching theme was “men are violent” and there was “no excuse” for their actions.

I do notice that some women do expect me to acquiesce or concede to them more now: Let them speak first, let them board the bus first, let them sit down first, and so on. I also notice that in public spaces men are more collegial with me, which they express through verbal and nonverbal messages: head lifting when passing me on the sidewalk and using terms like “brother” and “boss man” to acknowledge me. As a former lesbian feminist, I was put off by the way that some women want to be treated by me, now that I am a man, because it violates a foundational belief I carry, which is that women are fully capable human beings who do not need men to acquiesce or concede to them.

What continues to strike me is the significant reduction in friendliness and kindness now extended to me in public spaces. It now feels as though I am on my own: No one, outside of family and close friends, is paying any attention to my well-being.

I can recall a moment where this difference hit home. A couple of years into my medical gender transition, I was traveling on a public bus early one weekend morning. There were six people on the bus, including me. One was a woman. She was talking on a mobile phone very loudly and remarked that “men are such a–holes.” I immediately looked up at her and then around at the other men. Not one had lifted his head to look at the woman or anyone else. The woman saw me look at her and then commented to the person she was speaking with about “some a–hole on the bus right now looking at me.” I was stunned, because I recall being in similar situations, but in the reverse, many times: A man would say or do something deemed obnoxious or offensive, and I would find solidarity with the women around me as we made eye contact, rolled our eyes and maybe even commented out loud on the situation. I’m not sure I understand why the men did not respond, but it made a lasting impression on me.

‘I took control of my career’

Chris Edwards, 49, Boston

Advertising creative director, public speaker and author of the memoir “Balls: It Takes Some to Get Some.” Transitioned in his mid-20s.

When I began my transition at age 26, a lot of my socialization came from the guys at work. For example, as a woman, I’d walk down the hall and bump into some of my female co-workers, and they’d say, “Hey, what’s up?” and I’d say, “Oh, I just got out of this client meeting. They killed all my scripts and now I have to go back and rewrite everything, blah blah blah. What’s up with you?” and then they’d tell me their stories. As a guy, I bump into a guy in the hall and he says, “What’s up?” and I launch into a story about my day and he’s already down the hall. And I’m thinking, well, that’s rude. So, I think, okay, well, I guess guys don’t really share, so next time I’ll keep it brief. By the third time, I realized you just nod.

The creative department is largely male, and the guys accepted me into the club. I learned by example and modeled my professional behavior accordingly. For example, I kept noticing that if guys wanted an assignment they’d just ask for it. If they wanted a raise or a promotion they’d ask for it. This was a foreign concept to me. As a woman, I never felt that it was polite to do that or that I had the power to do that. But after seeing it happen all around me I decided that if I felt I deserved something I was going to ask for it too. By doing that, I took control of my career. It was very empowering.

Apparently, people were only holding the door for me because I was a woman rather than out of common courtesy as I had assumed. Not just men, women too. I learned this the first time I left the house presenting as male, when a woman entered a department store in front of me and just let the door swing shut behind her. I was so caught off guard I walked into it face first.

When you’re socially transitioning, you want to blend in, not stand out, so it’s uncomfortable when little reminders pop up that you’re not like everybody else. I’m expected to know everything about sports. I like sports but I’m not in deep like a lot of guys. For example, I love watching football, but I never played the sport (wasn’t an option for girls back in my day) so there is a lot I don’t know. I remember the first time I was in a wedding as a groomsman. I was maybe three years into my transition and I was lined up for photos with all the other guys. And one of them shouted, “High school football pose!” and on cue everybody dropped down and squatted like the offensive line, and I was like, what the hell is going on? It was not instinctive to me since I never played. I tried to mirror what everyone was doing, but when you see the picture I’m kind of “offsides,” so to speak.

The hormones made me more impatient. I had lots of female friends and one of the qualities they loved about me was that I was a great listener. After being on testosterone, they informed me that my listening skills weren’t what they used to be. Here’s an example: I’m driving with one of my best friends, Beth, and I ask her “Is your sister meeting us for dinner?” Ten minutes later she’s still talking and I still have no idea if her sister is coming. So finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I snapped and said, “IS SHE COMING OR NOT?” And Beth was like, “You know, you used to like hearing all the backstory and how I’d get around to the answer. A lot of us have noticed you’ve become very impatient lately and we think it’s that damn testosterone!” It’s definitely true that some male behavior is governed by hormones. Instead of listening to a woman’s problem and being empathetic and nodding along, I would do the stereotypical guy thing — interrupt and provide a solution to cut the conversation short and move on. I’m trying to be better about this.

People ask if being a man made me more successful in my career. My answer is yes — but not for the reason you might think. As a man, I was finally comfortable in my own skin and that made me more confident. At work I noticed I was more direct: getting to the point, not apologizing before I said anything or tiptoeing around and trying to be delicate like I used to do. In meetings, I was more outspoken. I stopped posing my thoughts as questions. I’d say what I meant and what I wanted to happen instead of dropping hints and hoping people would read between the lines and pick up on what I really wanted. I was no longer shy about stating my opinions or defending my work. When I gave presentations I was brighter, funnier, more engaging. Not because I was a man. Because I was happy.

‘People assume I know the answer’

Alex Poon, 26, Boston

Project manager for Wayfair, an online home goods company. Alex is in the process of his physical transition; he did the chest surgery after college and started taking testosterone this spring.

Traditional Chinese culture is about conforming to your elders’ wishes and staying within gender boundaries. However, I grew up in the U.S., where I could explore my individuality and my own gender identity. When I was 15 I was attending an all-girls high school where we had to wear skirts, but I felt different from my peers. Around that point we began living with my Chinese grandfather towards the end of his life. He was so traditional and deeply set in his ways. I felt like I couldn’t cut my hair or dress how I wanted because I was afraid to upset him and have our last memories of each other be ruined.

Genetics are not in my favor for growing a lumberjack-style beard. Sometimes, Chinese faces are seen as “soft” with less defined jaw lines and a lack of facial fair. I worry that some of my feminine features like my “soft face” will make it hard to present as a masculine man, which is how I see myself. Instead, when people meet me for the first time, I’m often read as an effeminate man.

My voice has started cracking and becoming lower. Recently, I’ve been noticing the difference between being perceived as a woman versus being perceived as a man. I’ve been wondering how I can strike the right balance between remembering how it feels to be silenced and talked over with the privileges that come along with being perceived as a man. Now, when I lead meetings, I purposefully create pauses and moments where I try to draw others into the conversation and make space for everyone to contribute and ask questions.

People now assume I have logic, advice and seniority. They look at me and assume I know the answer, even when I don’t. I’ve been in meetings where everyone else in the room was a woman and more senior, yet I still got asked, “Alex, what do you think? We thought you would know.” I was at an all-team meeting with 40 people, and I was recognized by name for my team’s accomplishments. Whereas next to me, there was another successful team led by a woman, but she was never mentioned by name. I went up to her afterward and said, “Wow, that was not cool; your team actually did more than my team.” The stark difference made me feel uncomfortable and brought back feelings of when I had been in the same boat and not been given credit for my work.

When people thought I was a woman, they often gave me vague or roundabout answers when I asked a question. I’ve even had someone tell me, “If you just Googled it, you would know.” But now that I’m read as a man, I’ve found people give me direct and clear answers, even if it means they have to do some research on their own before getting back to me.

A part of me regrets not sharing with my grandfather who I truly am before he passed away. I wonder how our relationship might have been different if he had known this one piece about me and had still accepted me as his grandson. Traditionally, Chinese culture sees men as more valuable than women. Before, I was the youngest granddaughter, so the least important. Now, I’m the oldest grandson. I think about how he might have had different expectations or tried to instill certain traditional Chinese principles upon me more deeply, such as caring more about my grades or taking care of my siblings and elders. Though he never viewed me as a man, I ended up doing these things anyway.

Zander Keig contributed to this article in his personal capacity. The opinions expressed in this are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of the Department of Defense.

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Old story worth a repost SOURCE

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fauzhee10069 · 4 years

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Caato’s Stand and its mechanism so far (Jojolion)

Caato’s Stand, which until now has not been named yet, often becomes the object of hype in its ability and discussion in its name. I’m also interested to discuss both, but maybe I will focus more on its ability.

As her character is heavily a reference of French playing cards, Caato uses her playing cards as medium for her Stand ability.

Caato can store objects between her cards, making them appear or disappear like a magic trick. The first object we saw when she demonstrated her Stand for the first time was a cellphone. The phone is smaller in width and length, making the cards able to fully conceal it.

The second time we saw her Stand, she tricked Joshu to tidy up her cards, indirectly hurting him by the impact of the chair she stored into her cards when he took the cards that were stacked. With this second demonstration, we can sort the mechanism of her Stand:

She can store objects between her cards, making them appear or disappear like a magic trick

Anyone can release the objects that were stored inside her cards

She can store the objects with size much larger than her cards

Another interesting thing here is that the chair came out of two separate cards, it makes me wonder of the possibility that she could separate parts of an object and release them separately. There are also two things that I see as another mechanism of her Stand, though it’s still hypothetically speaking as the scenes were just mainly implication:

How she hid the chair between her cards? Did she slam the chair between her cards? If so, why no one noticed her while doing it (taking out two decks of her cards and putting the chair between them)? Two people might not had noticed that moment: Daiya (due to poor eyesight) and Joshu (being too distracted), why did none of the rest of the family notice that? Which led to two assumptions:

Caato does not need to take out (use) the cards to hide objects, she simply needs to will it

She does need to take out the cards, it’s just the family being too oblivious to notice that

Or some of them might actually noticed that but kept silent because Joshu definitely deserved that (LOL), the scene was focused on him afterall. Anyway, I’m more into the later, this reunion scene with her is not to be taken too seriously (in gauging the actual power as it is not a serious Stand battle).

In addition, a crucial thing that is easily overlooked in Caato’s words: “there certainly are a lot of chairs in this house, so you wouldn’t notice if I hid one between my cards, would you?”

Considering the hype from her supporters who frequently compare her Stand with D4C because their "dimensional-based" ability and "caught-in-between" mechanism?

「D4C」 has access to different parallel worlds/dimensions, it can also pull other people or items to other dimensions.

But in the case of Caato’s Stand and her words: she took out a chair from her cards, a chair that belongs to Higashikata's house, which is in the same world as her and the family. In other words, Caato’s Stand does not cross between dimensions in its mechanism, therefore the hype that her Stand has the same ability and power as the 「D4C」 has not been proven!

Notice how the warden took Caato’s cards, the decks were slightly open but nothing came out from them, but a few panels afterwards we see Caato took out her cellphone from the cards. Why didn’t the warden accidentally brought out the phone? It’s either:

Only Stand users (like Joshu) who can release the objects stored there besides the user (Caato)

Caato can control the timing of the stored objects to be released (and anyone who can release it)

I’ll pick the later too. However, there is also the possibility of luck as the decks, that were slightly open, were not storing her phone atm.

Now, regarding the hype she gets, many readers compare her Stand with Valentine’s D4C for being dimension-theme, though currently Caato’s Stand is still paled in comparison with D4C. Let’s see how D4C is capable of:

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap (D4C)

SBR chapter 75: D4C – part 8

Take a note that the info explicitly said that D4C can send both living being and inanimate objects into another dimension, therefore it’s not limited to person.

Valentine sent away a man into another dimension, the caught in between two objects part is what makes the readers comparing this with Caato’s Stand. This comparison also conceived the idea of Caato being the part 8 main villain. The time-based theme that incidentally became the pattern of main villains’ Stands in Ireneverse (part 1-6) causing the readers to think that the reboot/SBR verse (part 7 onwards) will have the main villains with dimension-based Stands (in which this is still unconfirmed and purely assumption).

But if you consider the ability-based as the pattern, you should consider the form-based as the pattern as well. What kind of Stand the main villains always have so far? It’s always the humanoid-type. I don’t think Caato’s Stand is a humanoid-type, it looks more like a tool or bound-type.

After that, we saw that Valentine can also send intangible/non-physical objects such as Stand attack (Johnny’s Tusk) to another dimension, besides physical objects. Actually, he was unable to do that in Johnny’s case as Johnny’s Tusk Act 3 can also move through dimensions, but he did try it, meaning that under normal circumstances (non-dimensional Stand attacks), he can do that.

What makes D4C different from Caato’s Stand?

D4C ability can only be done by Valentine alone

Valentine does not need a certain medium to use D4C, he can use D4C with any objects that are available to be slammed together (since his Stand manifests in humanoid form)

Unlike D4C, Caato’s words in chapter 58 implied that her Stand does not cross between dimensions in its mechanism

While people like to compare Caato’s Stand with D4C, I’d like to compare her Stand with Terunosuke's Enigma which I found more similar to.

Enigma

Enigma, in the form of folded paper, can store any objects inside it just like Caato’s Stand, however Terunosuke has to fold them inside the paper which kinda reminds me of Paper Moon King visually.

DIU chapter 142: Enigma Boy – part 4

He can also store the object that much bigger than the paper itself, when the biggest object Caato had stored so far is a chair, Terunosuke had stored a taxi car (including the driver, btw).

Just like Caato’s Stand, anyone can release the objects that were folded inside the paper. Not only that, it can also store intangible object such fire and electric currents there.

And a living object such animal (scorpion).

Enigma can also trap a living person in paper, however, Terunosuke must discover the habits the target displays when afraid.

DIU chapter 141: Enigma Boy – part 3

He can also transform himself into a paper, by bringing a gun, he can surprise the target who opens the fold and harm them.

Damaging the piece of paper results in an equivalent damage on said object or person inside it.

What makes Caato’s Stand similar to Enigma?

Storing the objects inside medium (playing cards & paper)

Both can store the objects with size much larger than the medium

Anyone besides the users is able to release the objects from the medium

Even so, I'm a little confused, about the difference between the two. Does Terunosuke keeps some papers as medium or transform the object/target into a paper (which is then folded)?

I think it’s more the later, he did transform Tomoko into a paper rather than engulfed and folded her inside a paper, whereas in Caato’s case, she likely brings her playing cards as tool for her Stand ability.

We have seen very little of Caato’s Stand, thus, it raises quite a number of questions regarding its full capability:

Can she store living object?

My guess is she can. It’ll be cool if we see her trapping someone with dangerous animals such as killer bees, snakes or scorpions, though I’m not sure if she can store a human being.

JJL chapter 107: Kaato Higashikata's "Attack"

UPDATE! Eventually, the new chapter of 107 has shown that Caato is capable to conceal her grandson Tsurugi. Then it can be concluded that she can hide living object between her playing cards (though I think) as long as her playing cards perfectly stack.

Can she store intangible objects as well?

I think it is possible, I can imagine her working together with Jobin in a Stand fight (if he survives in the next chapter). It’ll be cool fight as well.

Is it only limited to her special designed playing cards?

Caato’s playing cards do have unique design, the back of her cards have the Higashikata fruit seller mark. I’m not really sure but I guess this can be limited to her special cards alone. Why would she keep these decks and use her Stand through them? Perhaps if the playing cards aren’t that unique, she can use her Stand ability through any playing cards, but let’s see it more in the future.

The exclusiveness of Caato’s playing cards as medium for her Stand kinda reminds me of Hot Pants’ Cream Starter.

Which can be used by anyone besides Hot Pants and still functions even though its user is already dead.

Does it have its own (humanoid-like) form?

I think it's possible, even every ability (non-power) based Stand such as Fun Fun Fun, Vitamin C, California King Bed, Walking Heart, Blue Hawaii etc have it. I hope it has a cool design. However, Tsurugi’s Stand Paper Moon King also hasn't shown its humanoid form yet, even though we have seen a lot of its abilities.

However, Caato’s Stand seems to depend on her special designed playing cards which made it more like a tool/bound-type Stand and I haven’t seen any bound Stand that has its humanoid form.

Perhaps, we will be really able to determine the type of Caato’s Stand if we have a chance to see its abilities further in a serious Stand battle.

UPDATE! The new chapter of 107 has shown that her Stand has its own (humanoid-like) form:

JJL chapter 107: Kaato Higashikata's "Attack"

At this point, it was most likely that all of the Higashikata family’s Stands have their humanoid form, bar Tsurugi… but I think that 「Paper Moon King」 will also have its humanoid form which it just hasn't revealed yet.

Next related post: The True Mechanism of Caato’s Stand, 「Space Trucking」

At the same time, the name of Caato’s Stand was finally revealed as 「Space Trucking」, it follows the ‘KING’ tradition just like every member of Higashikata family (including Mitsuba who joined the family through marriage).

Hence the speculation below that there will be the word "queen" in its name or that she is an exception due to her disowned status has become pointless LOL:

The Name of Caato’s Stand

And last, about the name of Caato’s Stand, many readers (and JoJotubers) have talked about it. Some proposed names that appeal to me are:

Queen(s) of The Stone Age

Styx’s Queen of Spades

Queen’s The March of The Black Queen

David Bowie’s Queen Bitch

But why “Queen” instead of “King” (which becomes a trend in Stand naming among Higashikata family)? Perhaps because she is considered to be an outsider to the family as she disgraces the family’s reputation (for getting into prison) and divorced with the head of the family.

I am most interested in Queen of Spades just because I really like the album artwork “Pieces of Eight”. I think I’m gonna draw Caato in that album artwork style if this becomes her Stand’s name. A Caatofag also said that the lyrics are really complimentary to the lyrics Norisuke IV’s Stand, Metallica’s King Nothing, as if they are singing to each other.

Read also:

JoJolion Cardspiracy: Caato & Damokan group

Is Caato a Rock-Woman?

How does the hype of Caato turn really bad?

Edited:

Changed the spelling of 「Kaato」 into 「Caato」because it’s Caato, not Kaato.

#jojo stands #space trucking #kaato's stand #kaato higashikata #jojolion #jojo meta #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba meta #dirty deeds done dirt cheap #enigma jojo #d4c jojo #jojo's bizarre analysis #funny valentine #terunosuke miyamoto #i have to keep kaatofags in check for overhyping kaato #caato

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ladyartemisia28 · 4 years

Text

Say Amen(Chapter 5)

Chapter 5/?

Pairings: Prinxiety, side Logicality, Platonic Moxiety, Platonic/Family Logince, Platonic Royality.

Warnings: Cursing, mention of emotional abuse, unsympathetic Janus,

Words:4753

Summary: Sanders Sides Human College AU ~

Patton was sitting on his bed reading his history textbook when he heard a loud thud outside the door.

He opened the door to see Virgil bags on all of his body. It appeared that he had been knocking on the door with a boot clad foot.

Patton held the door open for his friend.

“Whoa, how'd you get all these bags onto the bus?!”

Patton took the bag of bagels from Virgil's mouth so he would have the ability to respond.

“I didn't take the bus” Virgil shuffled in and carefully placed all the bags onto the floor.

“Then... how?”

“Roman took me to the store.” the right side of his mouth lifting in a grimace. Virgil knew his best friend well enough that he to know that he would make a big deal about it.

“AWWWW! That's so cute!” Patton grinned widely as he helped Virgil put away their food. “And domestic! That's so great!!!”

“no it's not really not” he said with the sour look still on his face

“What's wrong Shadowling?” he asked his smile dropped from his face.

“I don't know if I'm going to be able to be able to survive being partners with him.”

“Did he say something? Did he do something?! I will physically fight him!” Patton offered as grabbed single bagel from the bag. He then placed the bag of bagels in a basket on top of the fridge

“Patton No! He didn't do anything like that!” Virgil said frantically as he motioned with his hands to stop. The last thing that he needed was Roman to lose teeth or have his pretty nose broken. “Please don't fight him!”

Patton place the lone bagel on his bed next to his book before returning to help Virgil with the remaining bags.

“Well that's good.” he said as he took the tub of margarine and put it into the fridge.

“He didn't even bring up what happened last night.” he said with a small touch of sadness in his voice.

“But you wanted him to?”

“No?” he said more of a question then a statement

“You shouldn't lie”

“Maybe,” he bit at his thumbnail as he spoke. “Like I want to know what he wants?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he did me a favor, well favors at this point. The... ... thing at the party, the cleaning of my old hoodie, and then the grocery store trip. He's racking up a ton of things in his I.O.U. List.”

“Well he might be doing things for you because of his feelings for you.”

Virgil went to argue and was interrupted before he could start.

“You said yourself, he asked you to go to the party as date. You say no, but you end up together anyway!”

Virgil rolled his eyes with a small grin. He could practically see the anime stars in Patton's eyes.

“Like the universe was pulling you two together! He probably likes you even more.”

As Virgil finished his placement of grocery items in the small kitchen nook he turned to look at his bubbly roommate.

“No that can't be it. It has to be some sort of game.” Virgil replied to his friend's joyful rant.

“I think he just likes you.”

“Ha! I TRIED to flirt with him and... well he didn't take me up on it. He must of found someone else that he was interested in. You saw him at that party, with all those guys. ....” Virgil muttered his words lowering in volume and tone as he continued.

”Oh speaking of flirts, guess who I saw at the library today?” Virgil said in a louder happy to move onto a more positive topic.

“Don't try to change the subject!” he said as he climb upon his bed.

After a moment Patton's curiosity won out.

“Who did you see?”

“Remy”

“OH! ” Patton said with an excited clap of hands. “I LOVE that little Lambkins! How is he doing?”

“He continues to be the sassiest of asses, but he seems to be doing good. He was happy to hear that I'm not longer attached to YOU KNOW WHO....

“Yeah well.”

Virgil placed his bag on his bed and then he climbed on top of it.

“He kept sending pics of Roman that he found on Instagram. Like 'I don't need you to show me what he looks like! I'm right next to him in the meat section!'”

“Is that a euphemism?” Patton asked with a puppy-like head tilt.

“NO!” Virgil exclaimed in horror as he settled himself into a sitting position.

“Sorry, you know I don't know slang lingo stuff.”

He went to grab his headphones from his bag and paused as a he recalled a memory.

“Hey Pat.”

“Hmmm?”

“Your crush from History Class that you always say is so smart and handsome. The one that you told me and I quote has the most amazing eyes that have ever existed,” he rolled his eyes as he finger quoted.

Virgil may have been outwardly mocking Patton's description of this guy's eyes. But he could almost be accused of the same sort of sappiness.

He remembered one moment at the library when he caught himself looking at Roman when he was distractedly staring off into space.

Virgil was going to ask him to come back to earth but he was caught off guard by the way that the light had made his eyes look. Roman's eyes looked like a tiger's eye gemstone. A shifting series of browns.

' I never thought I'd be this big of a lameass. If anyone heard what I thought they would laugh at me.'

He shook his head at the memory and continued his conversation with his roommate

“This guy his name is Logan right?”

Patton's naturally rosy freckled face flushed with even more color and he just nodded in response.

“Does his last name happen to be Sanderson?” Virgil asked as he pleaded internally that his assumption was wrong.

“Yeah! It is! Patton answered. “Just the sisters from Hocus Pocus.”

Patton continued his words uninterrupted as Virgil fell backwards onto his bed.

“When I mentioned that to him he said the cutest thing! ” Patton said excitedly before he quoted Logan taking his glasses and adjusting them like an anime character as he did so. “'Ah yes, the Halloween cult classic yes, my younger brother is a fan of that, uh film.'"

“Cute, sure.” he muttered in mildly sarcastic tone. To Virgil's ear he would call the voice that Patton used to imitate him robot in tone. “I didn't...”

“What?”

“Take that for your type. He sounds a bit of a more serious no nonsense type. Like he wouldn't be that fun?”

Virgil threw an arm across his face to obscure his eyes.

“Yeah, he may be a bit serious. But just get him to talk about his interests and his whole being lights up like a christmas lights!” Patton said with an earnest feeling behind it. “And he was just so cool in class the other day! You should have seen him passionately defend Pluto's status as a planet! ”

“So do you think I'll be meeting Mr. Christmas Lights?” Virgil chuckled as he thought to himself.

'Out of everyone that could have been Patton's crush it's stupidly ironic that he happens to be the brother of my cru- NOPE! No don't you dare think that word anywhere near him. NO ROMANTIC ROMAN ALLOWED THOUGHTS!'

“Oh you just missed meeting him at the party! He helped me look for you.”

A cold feeling of realization hit Virgil hard as he sat up quickly to look over at Patton.

“What?!” he nearly shouted as the panic flooded his body.

Patton didn't reply as his eyes widened in surprise. From his face Virgil guessed that he had not realized that the information that he had shared would cause this particular type of reaction.

Patton was usually more emotionally astute but his heart was so full of infatuation for Logan that he was distracted enough to make a mistake.

Otherwise he probably would have prefaced his words with a little more warning.

“Are you telling me that guy in the tie, that you showed up with saw me make out with his BROTHER?!”

“Yeah...” Patton said with a sheepish tiny smile. “I guess in all the excitement I forgot to mention that to you”

Virgil groaned.

“I wish I had never heard of the fake-out make out.”

He grabbed his headphones from his bag, slide them onto his ears, and pulled up a play list. Virgil looked over the list and he spotted MCR and was reminded of the moment in the car.

He smiled in spite of himself.

'I can totally see why he is so comfortable on stage. He was.... radiant?...mesmerizing?... magnetic?

...Gods I don't even have the right words in my thoughts! It's like my world was just me and Roman and the song. I haven't met anyone that captivating since... ... ... Jae'

He needed to distract himself quickly and searched it for his sketchpad.

“Hey Pat didn't you pack my sketchpad in my bag this morning?”

“I sure did, why?”

'Crap'

“So do you happen to have Logan's number?”

Roman sat in one of the audience chairs while starting at monologue. His mind was not on the script at all though as he turned each page.

His thought were focused on the memory of Virgil's singing. His low rich baritone echoed faintly in his head. Roman would pay good money to have a recording of him.

He replayed his interactions with him afterwards when Virgil teased him about wanting to go back to his room.

'Oh NO! THAT WAS HIM FLIRTING!!! I should have flirted back! I love flirting! But the first day he got so angry when I flirted with him and now he's angry that I didn't!? What the Hell! Maybe since we kissed he wants more?! I gotta try really hard now!'

Roman decided focus all his of his attention on wooing Virgil.

He flipped over the paper and listed all of the things that he knew Virgil liked.

Honey Cluster Granola

Disney

Grape Gatorade

Puns

Count Chocola Cereal

The Black Cauldron

Nightmare Before Christmas

Evanescence

My Chemical Romance

While adding more to the list he was approached by the costume designer.

“Hey want to see a couple of my new sketches?” the small blue and pink haired enby asked as they offered Roman the notebook.

“Always, Talyn always.”

It was several pages of people in a different costumes. Talyn's style naturally leaned tended towards Punk, Goth, and other Alternative type styles.

Roman looked through the black and maroon velvet cloaks, Victorian satiny waistcoats, leather pants, and other accessories.

'Am I just that Twitterpated with Virgil to see him everywhere?! I mean let's not kid around he would look sexy in this clothing. '

“Great work TallyKat.” Roman croaked out.

Talyn squinted suspiciously until they saw Joan approach.

“What we looking at?” Joan asked as they sat next to Roman and leaned over to look at the drawings. Roman handed off the sketchbook to them.

“So how did that party go last night?” Joan asked as they thumbed through the pages.

“Remember Virgil?” Roman directed the question toward Joan nodded before they turned to Talyn to clarify.

“He's Prince's partner in Med. Lit.”

“Virgil...Virgil Alexander? ” Talyn asked as they retrieved their sketch pad, their face brightening up with recognition,“You know Anx?”

“Another person called him that in the library today, he wouldn't tell me what it was from.” Roman

“OH it's an old joke from high school.” Talyn continued. “Well sometimes one of us wanted to do stupid things. Like drive donuts in an empty parking lot or eat a mouthful of warhead candies,Virgil would be the one to tell us why it was dangerous. We said he was all of our collective anxiety in human form.”

Roman filled that information away for later.

“So as you were saying...” Joan asked gesturing to Roman.

“We kissed last night...” he whispered excitedly.

“Well that escalated quickly” Joan deadpanned.

“I mean... it was MEANT to throw off his ex...Kinda like in that movie 'To All the Boys I Loved Before'.”

He waited for them to nod before continuing his frantic rant. When they did not he just went ahead and proceeded.

“SPOILER ALERT! For the movie if you've never seen it. I mean you totally should it is such a good flick. I mean everyone who has ever seen a Romcom knows how it would end up anyways. Well in that movie it wasn't her Ex. It was someone that she was trying to trick. Ah! That gives me an idea! Maybe if I offer to make a contract to make his Ex Jealous! Then he could fall in love with me like Lara Jean fell for Peter!

“Don't do that.” Joan commanded in a flat tone with a shake of their head.

“Are you sure? Fake Date is such a classic!” Roman visibly pouted at the rejection of his idea.

“No” both of them said at the same time.

Roman took the list in hand and moved it about while he spoke.

“Ok well I .. I've made this list of things that I know he likes and I can just put them all into a basket! And bring it to him...”

Joan yanked the piece of paper from Roman's waving hands

“How are you going to put 'Probably the entirety of Hot Topic' into a basket exactly?” Joan sardonically asked.

“I don't know, I'll figure something out...like maybe a gift card...a dozen gift cards...what is the highest amount of money you can put on those anyway...?” he took the paper back from Joan and began to write 'Check out gift cards'

“As much as I'm sure he would love to buy out the entire stock of Hot Topic. Princey I've known Anx for years, these big old honking PDAS are going to freak him the fuck out!” Talyn said with an exhausted type of aggravation.

“You guys don't get romance!”

His two non-binary pals shared a look.

Roman ignored them and attempted to continue his frantic writing, but he was stopped in his tracks at the sound of his phone.

-It seems that Virgil had a sketchbook fall out of his bag in your car-Logan

“See this is a sign! Virgil's sketchbook was left behind in my car! This is the second time that he has left something behind for me to gallantly return to him like Prince Charming!” he motioned at his phone with his hand.

Joan took a hold of Roman by the shoulders and looked him in his eyes.

“This is NOT a SIGN. Just give the boy back his stuff without any of your Romany weirdness.”

“But...but if I don't shower him with gifts to let him know that I like him..how...how” Roman excitement deflated like a balloon. He finished the thought in his head

'How am I going to get him to to like me back'

Another chime from his phone pulled at his attention.

-He says he needs it for one of his classes. He wants to know if it is acceptable for him to send his roommate to your location or to meet somewhere in the middle?-Logan

“Well it looks like Logan says he is going to send his roommate out to grab it for him” Roman said as he visibly wilts as he replies that they can meet in the quad.

“I'm sure he knows that you like him. You've always been...wait a sec, you said LOGAN texted you?”

“Yeah why?”

“Shit, are you telling us that you never gave this guy...the guy you're so clearly into...your PHONE NUMBER?!?” Joan asked disbelief increasing with every word.

After a noticeable moment of silence, Roman found his voice.

“oh, i guess I didn't.”

“You are a hopeless idiot here, dude” Talyn added with a head shake.

Roman got done with his drama club and hurried to his car. To his horror he saw the sketchbook had fallen open and varies pages were strewn about.

“NO, No, no, no!”

He was torn between the impulse to grab them quickly without looking to be quick and also to preserve privacy.

But the other part of him that knew that these pages deserved respect and care won the internal argument.

Plus admittedly he really wanted to snoop through the artwork.

So he looked over the art as took page by page and gathered them tenderly.

A few charcoal sketches of local abandoned buildings with gorgeous use of shadows.

Roman's jealousy perked at an unnerving page filled with disembodied hands reaching for the viewer.

He rolled his eyes as he found a page with a picture of Mothman, Slenderman, and an assortment of other cryptids.

'Of course he's into this weird stuff...

His eyes lit up as he saw accurate recreations of the Avatar: The Last Airbender and Steven Universe Cartoon characters, with a sticky note near them saying 'For Emile'.

“Who's Emile?” Roman muttered with a pout.

After he placed the last of the loose pages to a sort of order in the book he closed it. He looked over the cover that had a few more drawings on it as well as stickers for bands.

Roman hugged to his chest and then he ran as quick as his legs could carry him to the quid. He arrived only a slight bit out of breath.

'Man i need to get back to my morning running sessions. If I don't get my endurance up my dancing will suffer.'

He looked around at the area to search out for his target.

A boy sat at a bench, he wore a patterned pastel blue overalls over a pastel purple shirt. As Roman neared him he saw the the shapes were ice cream, hearts, and rainbows.

“Hey?” he approached the boy he hoped was the roommate. “Pat... ton?”

His face was semi-familiar. His big blue eyes were a softer grayish hue than Virgil's deep piercing blue. His smiling face was covered in freckles. Roman wondered how he would describe the color of his puffy hair, it was either a pale brown or a dark blond.

"Yep! So you are my Virgil's new 'friend' huh?!" his cheerful voice asked with the word friend is a tease like giggly way.

“Uh, I hope so?” Roman replied nervously.

“Patton Hartley!” he offered his hand.

“Roman Sanderson, pleased to meet you.” he said as he shuffled the notebook to one arm to shake his hand.

“I really like the pastel getup.” he said with the most genuine tone. He wanted to make sure that he made a good impression on a person who was so important to Virgil.

Even the world's most Emotastic basket wouldn't mean a thing if this boy went to his roommate and said Roman was no good. Patton was the biggest deciding factor, besides Virgil himself, in his ultimate fate.

'Please like me please.'

“Thanks so much! I love your hair! I don't think I could pull it off. I tried a teal a few years ago” Patton said as he looked up to his hair. His gentle smile told Roman that he was not insecure, he just was speaking with he thought was the truth.

“Thank as well. I personally think everyone can 'pull off' fashion colors. It's just finding the color that suits you and wearing it with confidence. And not using a box dye. I think pastel pink would look fantastic on you.” Roman offered as advice before he remembered the object in his hands.

He held the sketchbook out with both hands. “OH here you go, this is what you came all the way out here for!”

“Looks like everything is order.” Patton said as he quickly thumbed through the pages before he put it into a florescent green plastic backpack.

It looked like a giant frog.

'How did I not notice that!'

“So was Virgil busy?” Roman asked casual,before he quickly amended “Not that I'm not happy to meet you of course!”

“AH, I packed his bag this morning so I feel like I'm a bit responsible for this happening.”

“How could you know this would happen?” Roman shrugged.

“Well I didn't. But in a roundabout way it could have been prevented if I hadn't have packed it today. Besides I really really wanted to meet you.

“You did?”

“Wanna take a seat?” Patton offered politely as he placed the froggie at his feet to clear the seat next to him.

“Yeah thanks.” Roman said as he sat down.

“Hey can I ask you a question? I hope you don't feel like this is an insult towards Virgil. But what is his deal?” he asked in part aggravation and part confusion.

“Ah, you talking about how he's not the friendliest kitten in the clowder? ” Patton offered as a comparison. “At least when you began court him?

'He said court! I really like this guy.'

“Yeah, That! We were getting along fine, maybe a BIT of playful banter, but at worse it that was just light teasing. But it changed like a switch was flipped or something when I asked if he wanted to go to that party with me.” Roman asked face pinched as he remembered Virgil's change in demeanour. “All of a sudden it was as if I had asked if he wanted to be set on fire!”

“Well, he really thinks you're flirting with him as some sort of game” Patton said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Why would he think that! ”

“I'm not really sure what would make him think of that in class, I wasn't there. But you seemed to be flirting with quite a few guys at the party.” Patton stated with a sigh “Aaaannnd he did see that...”

A blush grew over Roman's tan skin as he remembered his brief playful trifling.

'Virgil was watching that? Yikes, no wonder he thinks so lowly of me. I would never have done all of that if he had accepted my date offer. I am a One Man Man.'

“And... the other thing is, it may have reminded him of his Ex...um you see Jae, he was always flirting with everyone around him. Mostly to charm people to get them on his side, but it hurt Virgil you see. He would ask him to stop, but Jae either ignore him to tell him he was being too emotionally fragile.”

Patton took breath and then continued.

“But then when it seemed like Virgil was close to ending it he would stop his flirtations with others and focus all of his attention on Virgil. They almost broke up dozens of times over the course of their time together. The whole back and forth really made it hard on Virgil.”

“SO this Ex of his toyed with his affections! How dare he tell Virgil he cared too much! I can't believe it!”

“That is some manipulative bull! I swear people who string others along instead of just letting them go are the worst. I've had a few exs like that.”

Patton nodded..

“That Ex! Sounds like a real piece of work, ” Roman chuckled a tiny bit as he failed to notice the uncomfortable look beginning to show on Patton's face, “If Virgil's was so frightened that the sight of him made him flee. Like he MUST be some stupid dirty, rotten, filthy silly billy, no good for nothing...”

“Uh,” Patton attempted to break into the rant.

“Rat scoundrel b-”

“He's my brother!” Patton hastily shouted.

'Oh Shit'

Roman cringed as Patton admitted the full truth of the situation.

“Wait what? I'm so sorry!”

“It's ok. You didn't mean to be mean.” Patton said

“Wait so how does that work? You're friends with your brothers ex? ”

“Nothing will stop me from being friends with Virgil. Nothing.” Patton stated as serious as Roman had seen him so far.

“Wow, um must make Thanksgiving Dinner's more awkward than normal, huh?” Roman chuckled nervously.

“Jae doesn't believe in Thanksgiving. He says that 'Thanksgiving is colonizer propaganda that is just a waste of food.' He doesn't really do holidays... besides birthdays. Well actually he does HIS birthday, and sometimes mine. If only a little bit. His plans for Virgil's birthday always ended up getting cancelled.”

“'So sorry my Nightbird, I swear I thought the museum would be open today'” he did a mock of what Roman presumed was his brother. While doing so his voice gained a sort of smoother quality of speaking. A bit more emphasis of the S sounds.

'Sounds like a snake'

“Sounds like a...like he's very unique person” Roman offered as a neutral statement. “And a very complicated relationship.”

“It sure is....SO are you really truly interested in my pal?” Patton asked.

“Yes. I absolutely am.” Roman said with an excitement that he apparently had made a good impression.

“Just call me Cupid!” Patton said as he did a big hand gesture pointing toward his chest with his thumb “I'll put in a good word for you.”

“I can tell you're really a sweet guy, but still why do this for someone you just met?” Roman questioned face full of confusion.

“I think you'd be a good HONEST boyfriend for my gloomy goober.” Patton smiled at him, “I'm a great judge of character, I've had to learn believe you me. Plus don't let him know it was me that told you this, but the way he looks when he talks about you... well it's just like nothing I've ever seen. I really think he's got a thing for you!”

“Really?” Roman felt uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“Yeppers, I know my best friend” Patton giggled like they had made a secret pact.

“Thanks”

“Although if my instincts are wrong, I will physically fight you.” Patton suddenly said in a serious tone.

“Really?”

“Yep! If I could fight my own brother, I can fight you” Patton said switching back to cheerful. “Understand?”

The way that he said it so matter of fact and cheerfully made Roman uneasy, almost like those haunted dolls in scary movies. The opposition between his soft disposition and the protective strength in his voice was just scary enough that Roman just nodded

“GOOD!” he clapped his hands and then leap up off of the seat. “I know your Instagram and I'll DM you there to trade info.”

“How do you...?” Roman got momentarily frightened at the thought that Patton had cyber stalked him for his social media info.

“You shouted it out at the party?” Patton smiled as he slung the straps of over his shoulders.

“Oh right...ha” Roman gave a nervous chuckle.

“Well, I've got to go now! Tell your brother that Patton says hi, k? ” he said with a wink he walked away until the bouncing frog disappeared from Roman's line of sight.

Upon Roman's arrived at home he restlessly waited for his brother's arrival.

When he heard a turn of keys at the front door he was there as fast as a bolt of lightning.

“You know Virgil's roommate!” Roman shouted as he ambushed Logan as he walked through the door.

“Oh Shit!” Logan cursed as he fell over.

Chapter 4

~ TAGLIST!!! @tatehoseok @love-is-the-fear-of-loss @misslilidelaney @ishoulddyemyhairthatcolour @dwbh888 @violetshovel @sadgayisme

#say amen fanfic #prinxiety fanfic #prinxiety

11 notes · View notes

jjba-arni-reblog · 4 years

Note

“Shit, fuck, you’re bleeding! Wh–Why are you smiling?!” For Kakyoin please 🥺

[Ah, Kakyoin, the cutest boy. It was a pleasure to write and while it might not be as interesting or too romantic, I hope you’ll like it! Basically it is N’Doul’s fight retold so to say. Thank you for the request and wish you good luck! - Arni]

Save

The crusaders were aware at the any possibility that the enemy might you. The journey has proven that the group wasn’t safe anywhere, whether it was air, water or earth, enemies waited for them in every corner, hoping if not kill but to at least injure any of them. One had to be very cautious of any possible unexpected attacks. But to think that the water will attack you in the middle of the desert was a stretch. But here you were.

As you approached the Speedwagon foundation helicopter, two workers could be seen lying near it, presumably dead from a crash. That was the assumption, until Jotaro and Joseph inspected the bodies, realizing that workers’ mouths were filled with water. Feeling confused and alarmed Joseph quickly told everyone to be wary of their surroundings as you, Kakyoin and Polnareff hid behind a rock, eyeing everything around you in case you might find the stand user.

The new member, named Iggy, was rather uninterested in the situation occurring at the moment, as he yawned and sat still, not bothering to cover, instead listening to any alarming sounds. The dog was pretty confident in his abilities and he surely wasn’t going to help some random new people that made him travel to the Egypt.

Anxiously looking around, you couldn’t help but to feel weird, as if the stand user was somehow watching you without appearing near your location. Before you could say anything, Polnareff spoke up pointing at a flask lying about 2 meters away from you free.

“This flask is weird…” Jean said, not knowing how to explain his point further “Kakyoin, take a look at it” he nudged Noriaki, nodding at the flask.

“Why me? Do it yourself” red haired man answered annoyed as he rolled his eyes at the usual attitude of Polnareff.

“Just do it, we need to check everything, right?” Pol reasoned, pushing the man further to look.

“Wait, something isn’t right” you said, feeling that it was a bad idea as the group haven’t yet seen the stand user or the stand itself. Maybe it was a trap set up by the enemies to attack you from behind? At this point, you couldn’t trust anything or anyone. Even the object lying around as you still remembered the encounter with the ship stand and even a fly. Who knows what the flask could hold within itself?

As Kakyoin reluctantly leaned forward to look at the flask, you noticed a weird textured substance slowly flowing out of the flask towards Kakyoin. Noriaki couldn’t move due to the shock from looking at such bizarre stand and before the substance, now deemed water, could attack him , you pushed him away at the stand hit your side.

Feeling the pain overtake your body you could hear Polnareff and Kakyoin rushing towards you with the latter noticeably panicking at your state. As Jean screamed to the group about the attack, everyone saw the mentioned stand that was quickly approaching the group. Kakyoin quickly gathered you into his arms, running away from the stand that was rapidly approaching you two. Due to Polnareff also moving at the said time, stand was quick to change its direction and you two made it save to the car.

At this point, your vision became slightly blurry as the pain continued to get stronger. You could feel Kakyoin shake as the worry overtook him. Trying your best to smile, you touching his hand as he looked at you, catching the glimpse of blood.

“Shit, fuck, you’re bleeding! Wh–Why are you smiling?” Kakyoin screamed, panicking at the sight of blood coming from your side as he desperately tried to think of something, hoping that the enemy won’t come back for you two.

“My turn” you answered, trying not to think of the pain too much

“What?” he asked confused.

“My turn to save you” you smiled weakly at the man before you, remembering multiple times he saved you on this complicated journey, the first one being from the powers of Dio himself as Kak was the one to initially fight you, making sure that your body wasn’t hurt too much from his stand attacks. In the airplane he was the one to save the group from the fly stand. Noriaki’s carrying nature made you admire him even more and you promised yourself that you will protect him as he protected you. And today was the day.

As the confusion left Kakyoin’s face, he couldn’t help but to chuckled anxiously, still worried about your state yet being slightly flustered at your answer. Hearing crusaders approach the car from a distance, he knew that the group would be fine. Before anyone could see and tease him, Noriaki planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Of course. You always save me, even if you don’t notice it, my love”

#jjba headcanons #jjba #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo scenarios #jojo headcanons #jojo #kakyoin noriaki #kakyoin noriaki x reader #kakyoin x reader #kakyoin noriaki scenario #kakyoin #SDC #jojo part 3

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justjessame · 4 years

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Put Me In Coach 7

After saying good night to my parents, who were surprisingly quiet and accepting about me wanting to ‘spend some time with Mr. Negan alone’ (I gag at the very nonsense of calling him that, but I’d kill to say ‘sir’ see his fists clench and my mom take note.), we got into his car and headed over. I had wanted to take my OWN car, but something in the way he’d looked at me told me that there was a motive behind the madness.

I had just buckled myself in, Negan beside me when I had to ask. “Why one car?” I watched him keep his focus straight ahead. Fuck. “Negan, why only one car?”

He sighed. “Your mother wanted to make sure that I would bring you home tonight.” He answered, side eyeing me. “Two cars meant, in her mind, that you’d fake out and call in a sleepover with Eric,” I saw his eyebrow raise at the theory that even a sleepover with Eric was better than one with him, “or Mary.”

Shit. It had been on my mind. Pack a bag, rush downstairs, tell Mom and Dad that after Negan’s I’d just hop over to Mary’s since it was further away and stay there. I even had the perfect reasoning for it. Mary lived closer to Negan’s. Damn that woman and her ability to close loopholes. That must have been why, when I’d moved to grab a bag, Negan had stopped me. Damn fuck shit.

“Ugh.” I groaned. And then I pouted. I wanted a FULL night with him. What’s the point of them knowing, if I was still being treated like a child. “I’m an adult, Negan, this is stupid.”

“You’re an adult, but you’re still their little girl, Amara.” He reached over to take my hand as he drove us to his place. “There’s a silver lining.” I glanced over at him and saw him shooting me a look with a grin. “This stipulation is ONLY until you walk across the stage and get your diploma.” I felt a smile tug at my lips. “If you hadn’t zoned out during dinner, you might have already known all that.” He rolled his eyes and I snorted.

“I’ve lived through more dinners with my parents than you’ll ever have to worry about, Negan.” I linked our fingers. “Trust me, you’ll zone out soon enough around them at dinnertime.” I smiled and brought his hand to my mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Besides, I was doing math. That should count for something.”

He laughed and I caught his eye again. “You were thinking dirty thoughts, princess.” I nodded and bit my lip. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

“Me fucking either.”

Negan barely got the door closed before I was wrapped in his arms. “Now we’re in MY house, princess.” That clench of lust in my stomach hit and his mouth was on mine. Kissing Negan was almost enough to get me over the first hurdle of pleasure, ALMOST. “I think I made a promise in your room,” his breath fanned my lips. Another tightening. “Come here.” And then he was pulling me through his apartment to the bedroom.

He flicked the light switch and adjusted the light to the dimness he wanted. When his eyes met mine again, I was suddenly incredibly appreciative of the fact that we had the privacy his place afforded us. My room would have been a terrible idea, because when his fingertips met my skin, I couldn’t hold back any of the sounds that fought for freedom out of my mouth. And, when we finally came together, naked and on his completely decadent bed, over and over, I realized that I’d be counting down the days to graduation with more fervor than I’d ever considered before.

The countdown began in earnest. Eric and Mary eyeballing me as Prom drew near. Like I was going to try that shit again.

“No.” I bit out, turning up my nose at Eric’s offer of a handful of his disgusting pickle flavored chips. “Does everything you put in your fucking mouth have to have phallic connotations?” He was grinning at me as he tossed one in his open mouth and made an indecent moan. “Ugh. Gross.”

“Was the ‘no’ for the chips, or because I asked if you wanted us to save you a seat in our limo?” Mary grinned, knowing my head was going to explode if I had to be asked this stupid fucking question one more time.

“Both.” I snapped, taking a drink of juice. “You both know that I’ve had my fucking fill of dances at this fucking hellhole.” They snickered. “And NO I don’t care that Prom,” I rolled my eyes and practically spit out the word, “is happening at the country club. I don’t go to THAT hellhole when Mom and Dad beg, why would I willingly go for this?”

“Didn’t Coach ask you?” Eric asked, putting on a pout. I glared at him. “Ah, come on, Amara, it’s NOT like you’re an ADULT or something.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t fucking see what the big fucking deal is. Your parents know, they condone it,” I snorted. “OK, so they won’t let you have raunchy sleepovers with Coach Big Dick, but they aren’t having his ass arrested for ‘grooming you’.” I bit my lip wishing I hadn’t told his sorry ass about that. “Why can’t you fucking come?”

“I don’t think her ‘fucking cumming’ is an issue,” Mary offered with her own evil grin. “I mean, have you seen her AFTER she ‘updates his grade book’?” Shit, they were gonna kill me. “I kind of want to find a grade book of my own to update.” Dear fucking God. I laughed in spite of myself. “I’m not sure Coach wants to spend another night at ANOTHER school dance. He looked like murdering the entire group of kids was on his mind, when it wasn’t laser focused on killing Joe.”

I sighed at the memory of that night and the two weeks that led up to it. “How is Joe?” I asked, shooting Mary a look.

“Big and pea brained.” She offered with a shrug. “He was a ‘fun’ distraction.” Mary offered me a loaded look. “Not repeatable.” Yeah, that was Joe.

“Didn’t think you’d take him to the Prom.” I offered, and she grinned. “Steven is still on Eric’s menu, I see.”

“Hush, whore,” he grinned at me, licking his fingers of the salty dill flavor that I could smell from my seat. Blah. “Steven and I are fated.” I raised an eyebrow. “What? I can do monogamy.”

“You can do a lot of fucking things, Eric, but why settle down so quick?” I asked, and realized that they both shot me a look. Pot meet kettle. Shit. “What I’m doing with-”

Eric was watching me with amusement. “Yeah, what you’re doing with dot dot dot,” he grinned, “is planning for the future. I’m not fucking saying Steven and I are necessarily end game, but he’s Mr. Right For Now.” He winked at me and I shook my head. “Did you ever read the note?” He glanced down to pick up his soda, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah.” I breathed. I had read Negan’s note that had come with my jewelry and it had made it much easier to face Mom. Even if I had wanted to eventually, having read what he’d written had made it simple. When she jumped to the assumption that he was some creep who molded me into his perfect sex kitten, I knew that wasn’t nearly what Negan and I had. Not a tiny shred of what we were to one another had to do with him making me into what he wanted. Because in that letter he’d told me that I was already everything he could wish for. That I was IT. That he was done for with me.

“Can’t give you shit for that, not after knowing that he thinks all that about you.” Eric smiled, and took my hand. “Jealous as shit that you get to be on the receiving end of-”

“His hand, his mouth, his fucking cock.” Mary nearly moaned, lightening the mood. “Yeah, we KNOW, Eric.” She grinned and took my other hand. “We’re both green with envy, you bitch.”

Prom came and went. Negan and I went to the drive-in and got pizza on the way back to his place. We managed to eat, and we also managed to take full advantage of an entire evening without interruption. Because, even when we managed to find time, my best friends and parents managed to interrupt. Texts, calls, I was almost amazed that none of them had followed me to his place and knocked on the door. Eric and Mary wanted to double check dates for different finals. Pretty sure Mom just wanted to cock block both of us. In the end, Prom marked an end to Mary and Eric’s need for reminders. We were done. Classes over. We had our caps and gowns. We’d taken our class picture for the yearbook. Now, we only had graduation to get through.

I should have been focused on walking across the stage to get my diploma and get the accolades for my accomplishments, but mostly I was focused on the night that would follow. Negan and me, together for the entire night. We’d never slept in the same bed. Napping after sex didn’t count, not really. And showering, a hot flash of heat ran straight through me at the thought of Negan wet and naked. Fuck.

“Princess?” His voice drew me back to the pizza dinner in front of me. “Sweetheart, you just made that noise again.” Deep, raw, and needy. That's how his voice sounded. I bit my lip and his eyes were drawn to the movement. “What made you make that noise?” He went back to studying my full face.

“Pizza?” I offered, hoping for a second to calm now the almost overwhelming heat that was still burning through me.

He shook his head, fuck he looked like a hunter. “Don’t think so.” I waited. “You haven’t taken a bite of your slice, Amara.” Oh, fuck. “What idea just ran through that overactive brain of yours, honey?”

Damn it, I felt like I’d been running a fucking marathon I was so fucking thirsty. “Graduation night.” His eyes flashed and I saw his hand fist his napkin. “And-” I stopped and took a breath to still the raging horniness that was risking to take over my entire body and force me to crawl across the fucking table to tackle him. “I was thinking about the stuff we haven’t done. As a couple.”

Negan tilted his head and waited. Fuck. Teacher mode, twelve o’clock.

“We’ve never actually slept in the same bed.” I offered, and he squinted, knowing that passing out wouldn’t have me making THAT noise. “And,” I licked my lip at the mere thought of his body dripping with water. “Showering.”

That’s all it took. I thanked God he’d put the pizza box on that bar of his, because the paper plates that held my slice and what had been left of his were swept onto the floor, unopened cans of soda, gone. And then I was on the fucking table and he was devouring me.

#coach negan x student #negan x ofc #The Walking Dead #Smut

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moviegroovies · 4 years

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y’all i saw terminator: dark fate!!!!!!!!!

GOD i loved it. i think i’ve admitted before that the only way i really rank exciting plot points in movies is by how much i anticipated them/wanted them to happen, and terminator: dark fate did NOT disappoint. fuck every writer or director who makes weird shit happen in their stories just to give the audience a story they couldn’t possibly have anticipated. (cough avengers endgame cough.) sometimes the best ending is one you can see from ten miles away, because that means it’s been set up EFFICIENTLY.

obviously, i think the new terminator did that. there were a few things i wanted to happen that didn’t (mostly regarding the life of one or two key characters), and a few things i legitimately didn’t see coming that i really liked, but ultimately the story was solid, awesome to watch, and very faithful to the original. i haven’t seen any of the sequels past judgement day, and i have no plans to change that anytime soon (lmao), but i’ve heard that it discounts all continuity past the second one, and that’s completely fine by me. the actors were great. LINDA HAMILTON was great. and i am sexually attracted to old soft arnold schwarzenneger. 😔

i was debating on whether or not i should make a separate post to talk about the time travel in the terminator franchise or if i should just go crazy go stupid and lump it in with my review and ultimately i think it can just go here, because i have some things to say re: the way it ties back to the originals.

personally i think the neatest example of time shenanigans in the franchise comes from the very first movie. that one sets up time travel in their universe as very “you already changed the past,” insofar as, without the time travel elements, there is the very real sense that the future the terminator came from would never have existed. kyle reese, from the future, becomes the father of his superior officer john connor. without the time travel, there would be no human resistance for skynet to fear. not only that, when the terminator’s arm is left behind intact, even after sarah destroys the machine, they set out the idea that skynet itself was DEVELOPED FROM THE TERMINATOR’S TECHNOLOGY, so if there was no time travel, there was no skynet, and no apocalypse... etc. at the end of the movie, the picture of sarah that kyle comes back with is taken by a child at a gas station, and it seems like a clue that everything is happening on track. sarah will give birth to john connor, the machines will rise up, the resistance will rally, time travel will ensue. the events of the first movie are a closed time loop, and ultimately, i find that really satisfying.

However.

from a narrative perspective, i think the changes in those time travel mechanics are super interesting.

basically, in judgement day, there’s still some implications that the timeline is a closed loop--the terminator’s hand is actually shown to be the basis of what will become the skynet computer, which is being built right then and there. the apocalypse could indeed be on, and everything seems fixed. then, though, they find the creator of the computer, and miles bennett helps them to destroy his work in horror at what he will create. skynet never happens. they change the future.

by dark fate, that ability to change what is “written” becomes not only a plot point, but a sort of rallying cry. the skynet apocalypse is officially off--now the dark future is controlled by a very similar breed of computer known as legion. sarah’s efforts changed the future, permanently. there’s the feeling perhaps that the future can only be changed to an extent (the skynet apocalypse being canceled, but replaced by a very similar robo-hell, for example--almost like the timeline is trying to set itself right), but that feeling is tested and challenged as the movie progresses. in that sense, dark fate is the full culmination of the trendline that their “trilogy” represents: sarah’s fate was sealed in dark fate, but with john’s influence in judgement day, things were officially set off course. dark fate represented dani’s turn, and she took everything into her own hands--she personally stood up and refused to run, refused to let the bad future win out, refused to take things lying down. sarah felt a kinship to her, based on the position that she found her in, but it’s like she realizes--dani is not sarah. sarah’s realization is that “she’s john,” which is closer--she’s the leader of the resistance, humanity’s only hope, but i think the message is pretty clearly telling us that she’s not john connor either--she’s dani ramos.

and she fucking OWNS.

one thing that i was a little iffy about at the start of the movie was the “white savior” thing. i don’t think that was an unfounded reservation to have--based on the formula from the first movie, a terminator is sent back to kill, and a hero is sent back to protect. this time, the “hero” is a white girl cyborg named grace, while the character in danger, who the movie clearly wants you to think is in the same boat as sarah connor, ie the mother mary role, literally important not for her own self but for her womb, is a mexican woman. that could have reached unfortunate implication levels like hella fast, but honestly (and i will disclaim this by adding that i’m white, so if you felt differently about it i would appreciate hearing why), i think the rest of the movie subverted that pretty beautifully. for one thing, grace being fundamentally human underneath her augmentation meant that she wasn’t an unstoppable machine ready to continue on until her metal frame was torn to shreds. she was a BADASS, obviously, and in the first fight, grace did prove herself a worthy successor to the “uncle bob” terminator in t2 with her kickass skillz (sorry kyle reese you’re just not that cool), but soon after that we got to see grace’s limits. if it hadn’t been for sarah connor, grace’s plan on the bridge finally boiled down to “when the terminator starts to kill me, run.” soon after that, grace’s power is shown to be fallible even more thoroughly when she hits her limit and starts to convulse, a byproduct of her augmentation. grace can do more than what a human can do, but she can’t do it forever like a machine could. very quickly in the movie, the tables were flipped, and even though grace came back through time to protect dani, dani was the one who had to take over the driver’s seat (despite never having driven before), and the one responsible for getting grace to medicine so that she could be resuscitated. and all that was BEFORE the big reveal.

a note: there were two scenes in pretty quick succession in this sequence that made me sob. the first of these was the death of dani’s brother diego, because in his last act, he was reassuring his sister that he was okay, despite being impaled by a metal pole. that line gave his character some depths that i hadn’t expected, and it really made dani’s pain after the car went up feel palpable. diego didn’t get a lot of screentime, but we saw him flirt lamely with a neighbor, we saw him dream of internet fame, we saw him joke at the factory even as his job was being replaced. we saw how much dani cared about him when she told him to take her job while she sorted out his replacement by machine parts. their relationship was a solid brick in the movie’s foundation, and his loss felt a lot more real than many comparable losses in movies. you know that whole “show, don’t tell” adage? they didn’t have to tell me that losing diego (and her father) was like a knife in dani. i saw that for myself. the second scene was at the pharmacy, when the employees and the other customers reached out to help grace even after she and dani had both lashed out and threatened them with the gun in fear of what was happening. y’all ever get emotional over the way that people are essentially good and will help each other when they can? god i fucking love that.

anyway, the reveal. the reveal was awesome.

i started suspecting that dani wasn’t the mother of humanity’s last hope, but rather, humanity’s last hope herself, during the conversation on the train telling us exactly the opposite. sarah makes some assumptions and projects her experience onto dani, telling her flat out that she’s pretty much a walking incubator for humanity’s last hope. there’s a sense that sarah might be bitter about having that role handed to her, and perhaps even more so because it was then taken away--she lost the son that she risked everything for, fought two terminators for, and for nothing: for some machines in a future that no longer existed. in that scene though, crucially, grace never says anything to confirm sarah’s assumptions. the one character with knowledge of the future doesn’t impart it, and it shows. sarah knows things that dani doesn’t simply because it’s not her first rodeo, but she’s also wrong sometimes, too. again in the kitchen later, the “carl” terminator asks about grace’s mission, but she doesn’t share it or give any information on who dani is going to turn out to be. the absence of information can often be an answer all in itself, and the reveal had some EXCELLENT groundwork throughout the movie--both in grace’s actions and in the brave and heroic actions of dani herself.

dani’s nature and grace’s past being revealed in the plane was one of the best scenes in perhaps the entire franchise. i said i sobbed at those scenes i outlines before, right? yeah, that was nothing to how hard i was crying and also cringey stimming during the reveal. we got to see a peek of dani ramos some twenty years in the future, and she’s incredible. she’s fearless, she’s tough, but crucially, she’s still kind. she takes no shit, but she not only saves a child’s life, but she offers a new one to the thugs who were chasing her. in just one scene, the way that dani bands a resistance together is obvious: she’s the best of us, and she uses that for good.

god, i love dani ramos.

the way that ultimately, dani takes the “hero” role over for herself (much like sarah did, honestly) and the way that we get to see grace’s weaknesses make them a very balanced pair. they’re both badass women in their own right (hell, sarah is, too), and they counter each other excellently. grace is augmented, and has physical capabilities that dani can’t match. at the same time, though, dani is willing to make risks that grace isn’t, because while grace’s concern rests on the fate of one woman, dani wants to find the best outcome for everyone--including herself, but not ending there. grace is willing to drop dani at the bottom of a mineshaft, if that’s what it takes to keep her safe. dani is willing to sacrifice her safety to face the confrontation that’s looming, because that’s what it takes to move forward.

i think one of the coolest things about the movie is that both grace and sarah come into the action with more experience in combat than dani, and more knowledge about the situation than dani, but ultimately the movie shows that they aren’t infallible, and there’s never a moment when dani is punished for naivety or made to feel stupid because she wasn’t as informed as them. both grace and sarah, in fact, are openly shown to be wrong about dani in different ways--grace knows who she’s going to become, intimately, but that closeness makes her too reluctant to put dani near the front lines, choosing to run indefinitely from the terminator rather than face it head on and use every advantage they can get to beat it. sarah, meanwhile, respects dani’s agency more, but in a way she sees past her at the start of the movie, dismissing her importance in a way that reads as sarah dismissing her own--she’s attacking herself and using dani as a proxy, but sarah’s wrong, because dani isn’t her. i love how both grace and sarah are good characters, and they’re both doing what they think is necessary and right, but they’re allowed to be wrong and misguided. ultimately, if it wasn’t for dani’s own agency and choices, the terminator would not have been defeated, and there would be no hope for subverting the bad future everyone is waiting for.

fate, believe it or not, is a very present theme in dark fate. obviously, i talked earlier about how this movie is the culmination of the “you can’t change the future” -> “you can change the future?” -> “you can change the future.” chain of events represented in the good terminator movies that i will acknowledge, but it’s more than just that. through the character of the “carl” terminator, we also get to see the blatant subversion of one’s nature for the better, and that was just. really epic. ngl.

in terminator 2, i enjoyed how john connor was protected by the reprogrammed terminator “uncle bob,” but i was a little disappointed by the execution. having uncle bob be a protector to john was exactly what i wanted, but the explanation that he had been programmed to do so rubbed me a little the wrong way. what i didn’t realize until i watched dark fate was that this pinged as wrong because dark fate gave me what i wanted: a terminator that didn’t change sides because he was taken down and forced to change, but rather, a terminator that actually made a conscious decision to be better because of what he observed in humanity. carl saw a familial dynamic and realized that he had taken that from sarah, and reached out to her, giving her a purpose like his family had given him a purpose, because he chose to. and that was the sexiest thing he could have done.

can you tell i LOVE what they did with the terminator. his arc and sarah’s were such awesome continuations for sarah’s general history and the progression of terminators played by arnold schwarzenneger. part of me was hoping for an ending where we saw sarah and carl drive off together, waving to dani and preparing to live out the rest of their years saving the future. yeah, well, we didn’t get that, but there were several scenes that hinted at forgiveness from sarah (an almost impossible feat given how she felt and what she lost) and trust between the two of them, and i loved that too.

dark fate was a good movie, y’all. it was so good.

there’s probably a million other things that i could talk about going down this vein, but this post is already a monster. i’ll just sign out by saying: one last thing i thought was epic and cool was how the protagonists cross the border from mexico into the us and at no point is such an action demonized; in fact, it’s necessary for them to reach essential aid in the form of carl, and the man who facilitates the action, dani’s uncle, is never treated amorally or like a criminal. i know, i know, the bar is on the fucking floor, but in the political climate we’ve got, for a blockbuster to take that stance felt like a pretty solid statement to me.

also, i liked the terminator’s line about texas. watching that in a theater in texas, i must report that it got the biggest audience reaction out of any line in the whole movie. folks, there were wolf whistles. ciao.

#terminator #terminator: dark fate #sarah connor #dani ramos #carl terminator #grace terminator #i feel like i like the movie more now than i did when i started typing this #don't get me wrong it's always been epic and sexy but while i was ruminating on it i realized things i didn't even know i felt #terminator dark fate is the gift that keeps on giving i must see it again

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pjstafford · 4 years

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My First Day Back at Work.

Two blogs in the same series within two days after saying last week would be my last in the series. Didn’t Emerson say something about consistency being the product of small minds?

I’m upset. Generally if I’m upset there’s a story worth telling. Here is mine.

I spent the week before the stay at home order working on the Navajo Reservation and staying in McKinley County. In fact I only had two days in Albuquerque before I was to return to McKinley County, but my return trip was canceled due to the lockdown. I had no way of knowing that this region would become an epicenter. It feels awfully damn close to home.

I have family and friends who are nurses.; not in New Mexico. Their stories are theirs to tell, but people I care about have experienced fear for themselves and have been heroes.

I am a morbidly obese, almost sixty year old person with a history of respiratory infections. Oh, well. I don’t want this to kill me but something will in time and I’m not willing to stop living to stay alive. But the worst thing in my mind that I could possibly do would be to give the disease to someone else. We know so damn little about it. I feel so helpless. There is so little I can do. But I can isolate. I have

I stay in a studio apartment. It’s cheap, my last two roommate situations have been hell and I travel a lot for work. It’s a little claustrophobic for extended periods of time. I have seen no friends in person for two months. I live completely alone. I take daily walks but I am not close to beauty or nature. There is an urban bike path. ( oh, my car died in December and I haven’t bought a new one). I leave every two weeks to go to my UPS mailbox and to my office when no one is there to get my office mail. My groceries are delivered. Once a week I go to the complex laundry to do laundry. I try to go off hours. On the weeks I don’t go to the mailboxes I go either to the nearby convenience store or to Sams club to get things that can’t be delivered. Two months.

If that sounds easy or simple, you are right and wrong. Easy compared to some. It is lonely. That type of loneliness impacts your mental health and. your self esteem. You can say it was my choice and I took it to extremes, if you want, but I see it differently. I did my civic duty. I stayed at home except for essential trips. Those were the orders, but that does not mean it wasn’t a sacrifice.

Last week and this week the place I work has begun preparing for a staged return to normalcy. For me that meant today three hours...an opportunity for copying, scanning, filing things I can’t do from home with no more than five coworkers. We put in safe rules. Wear masks, follow an arrowed path, no more than one person in any common area including the little area where we keep our copier and scanner. If you touch it you clean it.

I was kind of excited. I put on makeup and my x-files masked. Posted my first day back to work on social media. It was good to see people. People who did have to work together maintained space, allowed space when I needed to follow the arrows to get to the mailboxes. We told each other we were giving virtual hugs and made the gesture. Then went to our offices.

I came up out to scan some documents. In the day there might be two people in that space...one copying, one faxing or standing in line waiting for the copier, but we often would bump up against one another, that’s how tight the space is. So as I starting my second set of scans someone I didn’t even realize was in the office came right beside me to take something she printed off the same machine I was using. Forget six feet or even one. Standing hip to hip. She was wearing a mask in that it was around her neck.

I’m not saying it was malicious or intentional, but if she has lived in NM for the last two months she should have some understanding of social distancing and received the email instructions about no more than onein that space. At best it was a careless act with disregard for the consequences by a person who clearly is not used to social distancing. My guess is she hasn’t sacrificed by socially isolating or she wouldn’t have been this nonchalant That’s the best assumption.

Regardless of her belief system around whether or not this virus is serious or we’ve been over reacting, in her decision she negated my two months of sacrifices. She disrespected my choice to protect myself and others. She took away my rights. Do you think, after two months, if I was going to make a daring risk, this would have been my decision? I would choose a glass of wine in a friend’s backyard. I would not choose bumping hips in a small space while making copies with someone I barely know.

Yes, I know people will spend this weekend barbecuing and having parties and congregating in larger groups than five and completely ignoring governors orders. That’s their choice. But if I want to continue to tfollow the governor’s orders responsibly that should be mine. The structure set up for a safe work space simply mean we can cohabit in a work space together safely.

What I lost today aside from simply being possibly exposed to a disease is the sense that my workplace can be safe. I lost the brief sense of hope I felt at this new slight return to a normal. I feel as hopeless today as I have felt in two months. Because if I can’t trust the ability of typical humans (not criminals, rebels, low life, but regular folks) to follow the constructual norms of our social pact to respect each other’s distance, then I’m not sure what there is to be hopeful about.

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gingerautie · 5 years

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XR tube disruptions

Today a man protesting government inaction on the climate crisis was dragged off the top of a tube train and beaten by what I can’t honestly describe as anything other than an angry mob. I felt physically ill watching the video. Yesterday, as I discussed the upcoming action with my partner, he expressed concern that anyone disrupting the tube would be “torn limb from limb”. I thought he was being a bit dramatic, but I don’t do rush hour commutes.The man in question (who I have, for the record, heard is okay) could very easily have been seriously injured. It doesn’t take much for someone on the ground being kicked by a furious crowd be be eg. kicked in the head hard enough to get brain damage or life threatening injury. I think this was a predictable outcome of this action, and we need to be more careful in future to make sure that people who risk their freedom for XR are protected, regardless of whether we agree with their specific action.

I was polled (as a member of XR) about the action before it happened. I (like 70% of the XR London people polled) didn’t support it. That probably should have been a red flag for the people organising. Members of XR are a self selecting group who are both worried about climate change and supportive of disruptive actions. Less than 30% support among that group should have been a giant flashing sign saying “bad idea”. It was never going to play well with the general public. We don’t need people to like us, we just need them to hear us and our message, but what’s happened today is that conversation has moved away from the helpful discussion on unlawful police actions towards debating the tube action. There’s a certain level of inertia that happens when an action is planned, people have signed up, and in this case, signed up to take an action that will get them sent to prison. Information and polls were put out less than 48 hours in advance, I think to keep the police from being aware too far in advance. This means that people who were committed, had planned an action and were seriously contemplating prison time would have had to re-route themselves mentally within a single day. XR needs to re-think this process, especially where there might be violence in response to our actions.

We need de-escalators present at every single part of every single action to prevent this happening again. Our NVDA training covers peaceful arrest by the police - not violent arrest (as has been happening during the rebellion) or staying non-violent while being beaten by a mob. If we’re facing those things then we need to be trained in doing so, even if it’s only a few people who feel able, then they can be moved to the front if violence is likely. There are groups who have done this before (the US civil rights movement springs to mind) and we should make an effort to learn from them.

The group taking action on the tube network had (looking at the briefings I’ve seen) thought really carefully about minimising some kinds of impact. This was a tube action, but you’ll notice in the videos that all the stations are above ground, unlike the stations in the city centre. This was so that no one would be trapped either in an underground station or in a train between stations, because the people doing this wanted to avoid that awful situation. I haven’t confirmed, but I think they were only disrupting trains going into london, towards the tunnels, so no one was backed up and trapped behind the disruptions. A lot of thought went into minimising the effects on the general public. And as a result the stations were further out, and more likely to be full of working class people. This was the result of efforts to protect the public. I don’t think it worked very well, but that’s where it came from.

I think it’s important to remember that everyone’s actions in this situation came from fear. For the protesters, fear of the climate crisis and catastrophic impacts on human society, and for at least some of the people at the station, I think their anger came from fear of losing their jobs. I don’t know, maybe some of them just wanted an excuse to kick someone’s head in. But I think the mood in that station was probably driven by the precarious economic situations most people now live in as much as anger at XR.

Just like with the DLR action in April, the action was not protesting the tube. The protesters were causing disruption to pressure the government. XR targets both perpetrators of the climate crisis (banks, government departments, companies etc.) and causes general disruption to pressure the government. I think these two things need to be clearly separated - it’s genuinely confusing for the public when we’re outside an oil company one day and glued to the greenest mode of transport in london the next. A banner clarifying whether this is targeted or general disruption at every action maybe?

This brings me on to misconceptions about XR generally. XR is not telling people what to do or demanding people make individual lifestyle changes. Seriously. I know that when people here “environmentalism” they jump to “people are telling me I should recycle/fly less/not use a straw”, but this isn’t the message or goal of XR. Yes, lots of us do do things like going vegan or not owning a car, but it’s not actually what we’re about. We’re about government action on climate change. This will probably result in people having to make lifestyle changes, but XR doesn’t believe that we should be deciding what those should be. One of the XR demands is for a citizens assembly (basically parliament if people were chosen randomly like jury duty) in which XR would have no voice, to decide what the changes should be and what people should be prioritising. I think we need to be clearer that we aren’t demanding people make lifestyle changes - we’re not putting roadblocks up in westminster to tell people not to use plastic straws.

I’ve seen this misconception about behaviour change vs. government action from commentators and journalists I generally think of as well informed. This is also the underlying assumption of a lot of the accusations of hypocrisy from tabloids, piers morgan and randos on twitter. It’s an assumption underlying a lot of XR action that isn’t at all clear to the public, and it’s a problem. “why are you protesting people making the the changes you’re demanding they make?” is one I’ve seen a lot today.

XR causes disruption because all the environmental movements which haven’t have failed. It is an emergency, and we are pushing for change in the fastest way possible, with non-violent, but illegal action. XR is not top-down organised. Any group of people who take any action can do it under the XR banner as long as they follow the action consensus (https://rebellion.earth/act-now/action-consensus/). Levels of fear about the future, willingness to disrupt the public, concern about the impact of disruption, and willingness and ability to face arrest and imprisonment vary within XR. Some people will be taking steps others disagree with. This is a fundamental part of the de-centralized organisation of XR. On the other hand, actions like Heathrow pause became, due to the strong disapproval of many XR members, especially XR youth, non-XR actions. Maybe that was the right choice here. I don’t know.

I do know that we need to make sure that the XR protesters arrested for the tube action need to feel supported. What they did was incredibly brave, and they have made a huge sacrifice for all of us, and we shouldn’t let disagreement with the specifics of the action get in the way of that. We need to support each other, especially people who had misgivings about this action. We also need to reach out to people, especially in marginalised communities who feel we don’t understand the reality of their lives. We need to clarify our message and make it clear that we’re not making demands of the general public, we’re demanding things from the government.

#xr #extinction rebellion #tube action #climate crisis #empathy

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patriotnewsdaily · 3 years

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New Post has been published on PatriotNewsDaily.com

New Post has been published on https://patriotnewsdaily.com/can-taxation-be-justified/

Can Taxation Be Justified?

The philosopher Michael Huemer is usually favorable to the free market, and he is also a strong defender of anarchism. Although I disagree with some of the arguments in his defense of anarchism, The Problem of Political Authority, it is an excellent book.

In a recent blog post, he surprisingly suggests that taxation may in some cases be justified. He offers two examples, Pigouvian taxes on negative externalities and Georgist land taxes. In what follows, I’ll concentrate on the first of these.

He offers the following argument for Pigouvian taxes (named for the Cambridge economist A.C. Pigou).

Sometimes, people do stuff that harms other people, and the people who are harmed don’t consent to the harm. I.e., people “produce negative externalities”, as the economists say….

Example: Pollution. Whenever you drive your car, you release a little bit of pollution into the air, which imposes a tiny expected harm on a huge number of other people and animals, including future generations. I bet you don’t get their consent, either.

On some absolute deontological views, you always need consent before imposing (certain kinds of) harm on others. But that’s impractical. You can’t get the consent of everyone in the world, including the future generations who will be affected by your pollution. So we’d have to say either

(a) “You can’t pollute at all.” This requires shutting down modern civilization. Or

(b) “Pollution isn’t the right kind of harm” (it’s not aggressive, people don’t have rights against pollution, or something like that). But this would mean that it would be fine to completely destroy the atmosphere with pollution (if someone had the ability to do that).

(a) and (b) are both bad. We shouldn’t completely prohibit all pollution, nor should we take no action at all against pollution. While complete destruction of the atmosphere may not be on the table (yet), we would surely have too much pollution if we didn’t do anything at all to polluters.

This point of course applies to other kinds of externalities. If people get to impose negative externalities for free, there will be too many negative externalities. Lots of activities will get done that impose greater total costs than their total benefits. And almost everyone is going to lose out overall from all the negative externalities.

Solution: Pigouvian taxes. These are taxes on externality-producing activities. They’re supposed to be set so that the tax is about equal to the amount of external harm produced by the activity. This deters people from doing the activity, if and only if the total cost created by it exceeds the total benefit. Example: A carbon tax that would approximate to the amount of harm caused by greenhouse gas emissions. This would deter the least economically valuable carbon-emitting activities, while still allowing the most valuable ones.

Huemer now asks, How does this argument justify taxation?

Wait—you can see what the utilitarian rationale is for Pigouvian taxes, but why isn’t it still theft (even if a beneficial theft)? My thinking is that the person creating the negative externality actually owes compensation for doing so. Extracting owed compensation from someone isn’t theft. So this form of taxation isn’t theft. But note that the government would be obligated to use the money collected to actually compensate the people who are harmed by the taxed activity.

I do not think that this argument succeeds. Huemer mentions “absolute deontological” views, which hold that you must get someone’s consent before harming them and suggests this has unacceptable consequences as regards pollution. I don’t deny that’s a possible view, but a more common deontological position is that you can’t violate someone’s rights without his consent. Not every harm counts as a rights violation, at least if you characterize “harming” as “making worse off.” For example, if you are hired for a job that I wanted and would have gotten had you not been chosen, you have harmed me but haven’t violated my rights.

If you adopt the more common deontological position, then the problem Huemer raises does not come up. Pollution from your car requires consent only from those whose rights would be violated by what you do. But hasn’t Huemer already considered and rejected this response? He says that if you hold pollution isn’t aggressive and doesn’t violate rights, then you would have to accept that it would be all right for someone to destroy the atmosphere, if he could do so.

Huemer has wrongly taken for granted an all-or-nothing position, a common failing among libertarians. Either any amount of pollution violates deontological constraints, or none does. But why assume this? The scope of property rights is to an extent conventional within a society, and it is irrational to delimit property rights in either of the ways Huemer indicates. In a classic paper, “Law, Property Rights, and Air Pollution,” Murray Rothbard shows how pollution problems have been dealt with in the common law. Surely this is a better rights-based approach to pollution than either of the views based on rights that Huemer mentions.

Suppose that we adopt the view of pollution rights I suggest. Should we then say that it’s all right for someone to pollute, so long as he compensates those whose rights he violates? That seems wrong; in general, you aren’t at liberty to violate someone’s rights so long as you make him no worse off than before your rights violation. The rights holder usually can demand more than this or refuse consent altogether to the rights violation.

As I mentioned, Huemer has another case in which taxation might be justified. He says,

I think Henry George may be right. Henry George thought that (a) everyone is entitled to the value that they themselves produce, but (b) they’re not entitled in the same way to value produced by nature. If you happen to be the first person to claim some valuable natural object, that doesn’t really give you a greater claim to its value than other people who arrived later.

So when you build a building on some land, you should own the value that you added via your labor. But you don’t have any special claim to the value that the land had prior to your arrival. Instead, George thought, everyone should get an equal portion of the value of all land & natural resources. (We can simplify this to just “land”, since natural resources are generally part of the land.)

Huemer goes on to indicate that a land tax on the “intrinsic value” of the land, paid to those who aren’t using it, can be seen as a form of compensation to the nonusers. I’m not going discuss this further, as the initial Georgist starting point is implausible and Huemer hasn’t argued for it. In the view I take to be correct, which I haven’t argued for either, you initially acquire physical resources, not “value.” The value of what you acquire depends on the preferences of people in society but isn’t itself an acquisition. Further, on Huemer’s assumption that you don’t own the intrinsic value of the land, why does “society” own it in a way that requires compensation for what has been “taken” by the land user?

Huemer’s ingenious arguments leave us where we started: taxation is theft.

Note: The views expressed on Mises.org are not necessarily those of the Mises Institute.

Author:

Contact David Gordon

David Gordon is Senior Fellow at the Mises Institute and editor of the Mises Review.

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lastsonlost · 6 years

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A colleague who didn’t know he was transgender even praised his work as “much better than his sister’s.”Clinics have reported an increase in people seeking medical gender transitions in recent years, and research suggests the number of people identifying as transgender has risen in the past decade.

Touchstones such as Caitlyn Jenner’s transition, the bathroom controversy, and the Amazon series “Transparent” have also made the topic a bigger part of the political and cultural conversation.But it is not always evident when someone has undergone a transition — especially if they have gone from female to male.

‘I’ll never call the police again’

Trystan Cotten, 50, Berkeley, Calif.

Professor of gender studies at California State University Stanislaus and editor of Transgress Press, which publishes books related to the transgender experience. Transitioned in 2008.

I get pulled over a lot more now. I got pulled over more in the first two years after my transition than I did the entire 20 years I was driving before that. Before, when I’d been stopped, even for real violations like driving 100 miles an hour, I got off. In fact, when it happened in Atlanta the officer and I got into a great conversation about the Braves. Now the first two questions they ask are: Do I have any weapons in the car, and am I on parole or probation?

Race influences how people choose to transition. I did an ethnographic study of trans men and found that 96 percent of African American and Latino men want to have surgery, while only 45 percent of white respondents do. That’s because a trans history can exacerbate racial profiling. When they pat you down, if you don’t have a penis it’s going to be obvious (or if you’re a trans woman and you have a penis, that becomes obvious). If they picked you up for popping a wheelie or smoking weed, if they find out you’re trans it can be worse for you.

There are also ways in which men deal with sexism and gender oppression that I was not aware of when I was walking around in a female body. A couple of years after my transition, I had a grad student I’d been mentoring. She started coming on to me, stalking me, sending me emails and texts. My adviser and the dean — both women — laughed it off. It went on for the better part of a year, and that was the year that I was going up for tenure. It was a very scary time. I felt very worried that if the student felt I was not returning her attentions she would claim that I had assaulted her. I felt like as a guy, I was not taken seriously. I had experienced harassment as a female person at another university and they had reacted immediately, sending a police escort with me to and from campus. I felt like if I had still been in my old body I would have gotten a lot more support.

Being a black man has changed the way I move in the world. I used to walk quickly or run to catch a bus. Now I walk at a slower pace, and if I’m late I don’t dare rush. I am hyper-aware of making sudden or abrupt movements, especially in airports, train stations and other public places. I avoid engaging with unfamiliar white folks, especially white women. If they catch my eye, white women usually clutch their purses and cross the street. While I love urban aesthetics, I stopped wearing hoodies and traded my baggy jeans, oversized jerseys and colorful skullcaps for closefitting jeans, khakis and sweaters. These changes blunt assumptions that I’m going to snatch purses or merchandise, or jump the subway turnstile. The less visible I am, the better my chances of surviving.

‘It now feels as though I am on my own’

Zander Keig, 52, San Diego

Coast Guard veteran. Works at Naval Medical Center San Diego as a clinical social work case manager. Editor of anthologies about transgender men. Started transition in 2005.

Prior to my transition, I was an outspoken radical feminist. I spoke up often, loudly and with confidence. I was encouraged to speak up. I was given awards for my efforts, literally — it was like, “Oh, yeah, speak up, speak out.” When I speak up now, I am often given the direct or indirect message that I am “mansplaining,” “taking up too much space” or “asserting my white male heterosexual privilege.” Never mind that I am a first-generation Mexican American, a transsexual man, and married to the same woman I was with prior to my transition.

I find the assertion that I am now unable to speak out on issues I find important offensive and I refuse to allow anyone to silence me. My ability to empathize has grown exponentially, because I now factor men into my thinking and feeling about situations. Prior to my transition, I rarely considered how men experienced life or what they thought, wanted or liked about their lives. I have learned so much about the lives of men through my friendships with men, reading books and articles by and for men and through the men I serve as a licensed clinical social worker.

I took control of my career’

Chris Edwards, 49, Boston

Advertising creative director, public speaker and author of the memoir “Balls: It Takes Some to Get Some.” Transitioned in his mid-20s.

‘People assume I know the answer’

Alex Poon, 26, Boston

Project manager for Wayfair, an online home goods company. Alex is in the process of his physical transition; he did the chest surgery after college and started taking testosterone this spring.

Zander Keig contributed to this article in his personal capacity. The opinions expressed in this are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of the Department of Defense.

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shirlleycoyle · 3 years

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Why People’s Faces Look Way Different Under Their Masks Than You Expect

Because I moved during the pandemic, I met my landlord and neighbors while we were all wearing masks. For months, these new people in my life existed only from their hair, eyes, and forehead to the upper bridge of the nose—until New York City, like many places in the U.S., eased up on mask regulations and recommendations. Since I'm vaccinated, I mostly stopped wearing my mask when outside.

Recently, on the street, I saw the unmasked face of one of my neighbors for the first time. He looked completely different than I expected. I wasn't consciously aware I had been making a prediction of what his whole face looked like, but I had been—and I was very wrong.

This is a phenomenon that will likely happen all over the country, and world, as people encounter each other with their faces uncovered for the first time. The surprise I felt is partly explained by a feature of the brain called amodal completion—when we predict and fill in missing perceptual information—and also by the fact that we're pretty lousy at perceiving faces unless we see the whole thing.

During the pandemic, we've gone through a massive change in the way we identify and see people in our surroundings, said Erez Freud, a cognitive neuroscientist at York University in Canada. He called 2020 the “biggest experiment in face perception that was ever done.” How else to get a large percentage of the human population to walk around covering their faces—especially in parts of the world where masks were previously not culturally accepted?

Humans are especially sensitive to seeing faces; it’s why we can see them in electrical outlets or other inanimate objects, a phenomenon called "face pareidolia." “We see faces even when they’re not there,” said Anthony Little, a reader in the department of psychology at the University of Bath in the UK. “It highlights the importance that faces have for us.”

But this sensitivity has some parameters, Freud said. He explained that our brains are prone to process faces in a specific orientation and combination—upright and with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. This is called holistic face processing, which means we look at and recognize faces as a whole, and not by just specific features.

The images below might not immediately look like faces, just bowls of vegetables. But if they’re flipped, they suddenly, and irrevocably, look like the faces of some jolly vegetable people.

Giuseppe Arcimboldo, Fruit Basket and Portrait with Vegetables (The Greengrocer). 16th century. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

Giuseppe Arcimboldo, Fruit Basket and Portrait with Vegetables (The Greengrocer), 16th century. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

People with face blindness, or prosopagnosia, have been found to have disruptions in holistic processing—an indication of how important this type of processing may be. This can also be revealed in the face inversion effect, which is when people, even without face blindness, aren’t as easily able to perceive faces when they are inverted.

An example of this is the so-called Thatcher illusion. When these faces are upside down, it’s more difficult for us to determine that something might be awry. When they’re flipped to the correct orientation, we’re able to easily perceive that Margaret Thatcher on the left has had her features distorted.

Thatcher Effect. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

When we process masked faces, we do so in a less holistic fashion, since we're only seeing half of a face. This may be the underlying mechanism as to why we’re less able to identify faces when they’re covered. Freud and his colleagues found last year in nearly 500 people that their ability to perceive masked faces was markedly decreased, when compared to their ability to perceive unmasked faces. In 13 percent of people, it impeded their ability to perceive faces enough that it was on par with prosopagnosia.

Freud showed me the below example, in which a masked face has the same eye region, but the women's whole faces are quite different from one another. Once you see the face holistically, it's impossible to think they look the same. But with parts of their faces covered, we don't perceive that.

Image from Maurer D, Grand RL, Mondloch CJ. The many faces of configural processing. Trends Cogn Sci. 2002 Jun 1;6(6):255-260. doi: 10.1016/s1364-6613(02)01903-4.

When we see a covered face, we also perform amodal completion. Normally, when we perceive the world around us, there are sensory inputs that reach our sense organs, like information hitting the retina, which then gets processed by the brain into a representation of what we’re seeing. But in some cases, like when a mask is covering the lower half of a face, there is no sensory input. That’s when amodal completion steps in to fill the missing parts.

Image via Wikimedia Commons/Peter Tse.

In these examples, "the only things that are visible in the image above are really just the black triangles arranged in a certain way,” wrote Bence Nanay, a cognitive scientist at the University of Antwerp, in Psychology Today. “But you see a spiky sphere. The sphere is not visible, strictly speaking, but you can't not see it. On the right-hand side, you see a sea monster, but those parts of the sea monster that are underwater are not visible. Your perceptual system completes these invisible parts.”

Amodal completion can occur with all of the senses, not just vision. If you’re talking to someone on a busy street and a car honks in the middle of their sentence, you complete what they said, even if the auditory signal of their words didn’t reach your ears.

When people wear masks, our retinas don’t get any visual input as to what their nose, mouth, and chins look like. How we amodally complete the lower half on someone’s face is largely based on memory, said Vanay. If it’s a person you already know, your episodic memories of that person will drive what you fill in below the mask. That doesn’t guarantee it will be accurate.

“If you haven’t seen your friend for a long time, you're still filling in that part of the face on the basis of information that's two years old,” Nanay said. “A lot might have changed since then.” As T.S. Eliot wrote, "What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then."

Of course, if it’s a person you’ve never seen without a mask at all, memory isn't much help. “That’s when things get really interesting," Nanay said. "In the cases of masks, your visual system is using generic information about what noses and mouths look like to complete the face."

And it turns out, when it comes to faces, we often amodally complete with attractive features. A study from 2020 found that when people assessed the attractiveness of faces in complete and incomplete photographs, they thought people in incomplete photos were more attractive. The authors wrote that during an “information shortage,” people are more likely to be positively biased when it comes to another’s looks. This was shown in another recent study from 2020, which found that people who were thought to be average looking were seen as more attractive when wearing masks.

This effect may have been enhanced because of the pandemic. A study from before COVID-19 found that in Japan, women wearing masks were perceived as less attractive than those without masks. When the same authors studied the topic again recently, they found that “the perception of mask-worn faces differed before versus after the onset of the COVID-19 epidemic.” Specifically, they found that masks now improved a person’s level of attractiveness.

“You are unlikely to amodally complete a large red pimple on the nose behind the mask, but some people do have pimples on their nose,” as Nanay wrote. “The top-down generic information amodal completion provides is, in some sense, idealized information.”

Scott Barlett, a surgeon at the Perelman School of Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, and co-author of one of the attractiveness studies, said that he was acquainted with this side effect of masks even before COVID.

“When we were young residents, I can’t tell you how many times you fell in love with a woman in a surgical mask across the table, only to be disappointed when she took her mask off at the end of the case,” he said. He said there were even slang terms for it, like “mask love,” or “mask hot.”

What information was my brain using to fill in my neighbor’s face? If I didn’t have any memories to rely on, I was making a generalization based on my previous experience with noses and mouths. Intriguingly, my boyfriend was not at all surprised by how our neighbor looked. That means that my amodal completion was less accurate than his, and that we completed our neighbor’s face differently from one another. It could be that my partner and I have different visual diets, Little said, or exposure to faces in our past histories, and social media and television.

We amodally complete all the time, but we typically don’t notice or care as much about our errors. When you look around a room, there’s almost nothing you’re not amodally completing. “When you look at a chair, what’s behind the chair—you’re amodally completing,” Nanay said. “Looking at your phone, you’re amodally completing the back side of your phone. But these are not super exciting features of objects.” Faces, on the other hand, are an emotionally charged and salient stimuli, so they garner more attention and surprise.

A year with masks is one way to remind ourselves how much of what we perceive doesn't come from the outside world, but comes from us. Little said people often believe they can predict someone’s personality from their faces, and that we make assumptions about others based on their expressions. These predictions can sometimes be right, but many times they're not.

Freud and his colleagues did a more recent study to see if after a year in masks, people were better able to perceive masked faces. They found in over 300 people that they didn’t improve at all, which suggests that in adults, experience doesn’t lead to an increased ability to perceive faces un-holistically. “It emphasizes the rigidity of the matured visual system, even with naturalistic experience and training,” Freud said.

Needless to say, this decrease in ability to perceive others' faces is an interesting lesson in facial perception, but not a reason to avoid wearing masks, which were and are a crucial public health initiative to prevent the spread of airborne viruses. It’s just a friendly reminder that what we see when we don’t see, is more complex than it first appears—especially when it comes to faces.

“Are we just walking about the world, being wrong about how we amodally complete things? Yea, that’s partly true,” Nanay said. “Our visual system has to do a lot of guessing at any given time, and some of it is going to be wrong. This is just a real life, one and a half year long demonstration of that.”

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