friendly reminder that people you consider rays of sunshine can:

The angsty “when you’re gone au”

How Hawkmoth defeated Le Paon. Paris, 1994

words: 472

“I didn’t sign up for this.” He told his partner. “I’m sorry for the confusion.”

Behind them, Paris burned. Every emotion of every citizen echoed through him. He held his partner’s fan, and she was tied to a water heater on top of an apartment building.

“You can’t do this!” She hissed. “Gabriel, we had a plan! We were going to be—”

“We had no plan,” He cut her off, tossing the fan out of her reach, “We were going to use our powers to build our fashion house. I should’ve known that it was a slippery slope. I didn’t care about world domination.”

“Please, Gabriel, what are you going to do? Leave?” She murmured, “I won’t stop fighting you.”

He called a butterfly to his hand, infusing it with, for once, a good energy. “I’m going to erase your memory. You won’t remember anything of being Paon.”

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I’m really alarmed by the misinformation I see on social media right now, so here is a little simplified guide to WTF is going on.

(Edited to work better for tumblr, I originally just made screenshots for Twitter)

What is a NAZI?

Nazi is an abbreviation for National Socialism (Nationalsozialismus) an ideology associated primarily with the 20th-century German Nazi Party (especially while it was being led by Adolt Hitler). The idea that National Socialism lived and died primarily through Hitler is actually a myth propagated by post-war propaganda and Hollywood. America destroyed those Nazis!! YAY!! – Wrong, They still exist. Although not under that name. Any far-right groups is basically a “Nazi” party (many even used the term “National Socialism” until a re-branding in the 80’s.

The German political scientist Klaus von Beyme describes three historical phases in the development of far-right parties in Western Europe after World War II.

From 1945 to the mid-1950s, far-right parties were marginalized, and their ideologies were discredited due to the recent existence and defeat of Nazism – because people were murdered. In droves. Like millions of people. Death camps are REAL. 11 million people died, including 1.1 million children. Thus in the years immediately following World War II, the main objective of far-right parties was survival; achieving any political impact at all, was largely not expected.

From the mid-1950s to the 1970s, the so-called “populist protest phase” emerged with sporadic electoral success. During this period, far-right parties drew to them charismatic leaders whose profound mistrust of the political establishment led to an “us-versus-them” mind set: “us” being the nation’s citizenry, “them” being the politicians and bureaucrats who were then in office; beginning in the 1980s, the electoral successes of far-right political candidates made it possible for far-right political parties to revitalize anti-immigration as a mainstream issue.

What does anybody in the far right REALLY support?

How politics work is that there is two sides. The right and the left. In the middle, Liberalism and democracy.

The far-right isn’t about the “working man” at all. That’s what the LEFT is about. The Left is ALL about the public being in control. There is currently no major leftist parties in power in America (Democrats are closer to the middle - center-right, actually. They just get called the left party because nobody is).

What the right really advocates is private economic ownership (aka the rich getting’ richer), racial hierarchy (whites better than everyone else) and Social Darwinism (which is the idea that “weak” humans, aka the old, the sick, etc, deserve to be removed. That means gradually killed. Don’t get attached to your grandma). Extreme right-wing politicians are usually extreme nationalists (“bringing back JOBS to AMERICANS” = eventually they will exploit you as workers void of rights), and are opposed to immigration. They are also profoundly chauvinistic (that means women are seen as inferior).

Is Trump a representative of the extreme right?

Most definitely, since he supports all that was listed above. Loudly, too.

So, Trump isn’t going to really help the so-called American Working Man?

Who even is that? Everybody American works, no matter who they are. But if you mean that you’re a white middle class American, then you’ll get candy for a year and then be abused just like the rest of us. You’re already losing your rights to free information and healthcare. So, you might as well join the fight with us.

Who is Richard B. Spencer?

Richard Bertrand Spencer (born May 11, 1978) is an American white nationalist, known for promoting white supremacist views. He is president of the National Policy Institute, a white nationalist think-tank, and Washington Summit Publishers, an independent publishing firm. Spencer has stated that he rejects the description of white supremacist, and describes himself as an identitarian. He advocates for a white homeland for a “dispossessed white race” and calls for “peaceful ethnic cleansing” to halt the “deconstruction” of European culture.

The Identitarian movement is a European political movement that started in France in 2002 and is basically all about destroying anybody who is a shade darker then milk. The Identitarian movement has a close linkage to members of the German New Right, aka Neo-Nazis.

So this guy is definitely a “Nazi”.

Was it ok to punch him?

It’s never ok to punch someone who has not provoked you. HOWEVER, what Spencer is doing is saying: I want to hurt people. I want to hurt people a lot. Not today. But, tomorrow, maybe. His very existence and allegiance is a constant menace. Picture it this way, if you met a guy in the park and he said hi, I don’t have a gun today, but I might tomorrow, and I might come back to shoot people, would you just ignore him? No. So in conclusion, march peacefully, but do punch Nazis. 

This is the American scale.

I really want to point this out because it’s a legitimate thing that Trump is far more extreme right than you may think. It also explains why this is a thing that happened. See, compared to many other countries in the world, my own included, the American political spectrum is offset to the right.

So what OP said about there not being an extreme left is absolutely true, there’s barely a left to begin with.

Sourcity-Sourcey-Source

I’d like to point out that this is a recorded phenomenon in political science and not my own biased interpretation of your politics. Noam Chomsky—cognitive scientist, historian, social critic, and political activist among other things (this guy pops up in my university classes from time to time; the dude’s part of the curriculum whether that says anything to you or not)—has been pretty outspoken about this.

“… so what [Republicans have] done is mobilized sectors of the population that have always been there but have never really been politically mobilized, like Evangelical Christians, the nativists who are afraid that ‘they’ are taking our country away from us, white racists, … gun-people who are so terrified that they have to carry their guns into church because maybe somebody’ll come after them. 

You know, these sectors of the population are there, and that’s now the base of the Republican party.”

So, this election night was a shocking, absolutely horrifying blow to my American friends. Even my friends here in Canada couldn’t come to terms with it. I saw panic attacks, fears about even visiting American relatives in the States again, and even a depressive loss of faith in humanity. How could this be where the world is today?

Because, it’s this gradual shift to the right that’s so insidious, that happened for a variety of complex reasons, I’m sure, that can to some make it seem like the current Republican party is a reasonable center-right party, when in actuality they are legitimately far right. And as such, able to take advantage of these small groups on the outside that have desperately wanted a podium for a long time.

So, no, you’re not imagining it, America. This isn’t normal. Punch some Nazis, if that’s what it takes.

side note: This is what we call the Overton Window and that is a really good visual of it.

It’s also important to point out that this isn’t just the United States and it never really was. Even now, because of Brexit and Trump’s election, the radical nationalist/fascist/racist/sexist/whatever end of the political spectrum is now being galvanized globally with the success and encouragement of this and aided by political echo-chambers in media, the internet, and small communities.

Nationalist movements are picking up again in France and Germany and even Canada now has at least three people running for the Conservative Party leadership on a Trump-like storm.

Breaking News

A nasty reporter hunts down Ladybug and Chat Noir until he finds out their identities, before promptly releasing the information to all of Paris. As a result, Marinette and Adrien not only have to deal with knowing one another’s identities, but the rest of the world knowing as well. 

I don’t know how long this story will go on for. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

He didn’t sleep that night. Couldn’t. Not with what had happened weighing over his head. The hours ticked down as though each second was banging in his head, leaving him with a severe headache by the time five in the morning rolled around. He’d been pacing, laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, staring out the window. Just waiting. It was inevitable, the truth getting out. The reporter wasn’t going to be struck by a sudden conscious—he knew the press well enough to realize that. Rather, it was just a matter of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He had his television on the news channel, muted so as to prevent any irrelevant noise. All his computer monitors were open to news websites, which he refreshed when the anxiety took over. Really, it wasn’t the fact that it was going to happen that got to him so much as when, so he could be ready. So he could deal with it. But he couldn’t deal with it if it hadn’t happened yet and he preferred not to be caught off guard.

He wondered, fleetingly, if Marinette was going through the same thing in her bedroom above her parent’s bakery. Had she told them, her parents? In preparation for this? Adrien didn’t have anyone to tell. It was something the staff in the house would learn on their own. Aside from them, he had no one. His father was gone, so was Nathalie. He’d considered texting Nino, but every time he picked up his phone, he was at a loss for what to type.

Was something as simple as, “hey, just letting you know I’m Chat Noir, since the cat’s out of the bag anyway” an okay thing to say? No, that just didn’t seem appropriate, not for something like this. But that was all he could come up with, so he’d done nothing.

He wondered what would happen, how others would react. But, mostly, he thought of Marinette. And of his own loss.

There’d always been something freeing in Chat Noir, in having the secret identity all to himself. He wouldn’t have minded sharing such a thing with Ladybug, had wanted to—if only because she was the only person in the entire world he felt actually understood. The fact that she was Marinette didn’t change that. It didn’t change anything. It was relieving, actually, that Ladybug wasn’t someone like, say, Chloe. Marinette was sweet, kind, selfless. All the same things Ladybug was, just covered in more subdued wrapping.

But, even if Ladybug had eventually known who he was, he hadn’t wanted the world to find out. Already he could feel everything closing in on him, his freedom shrinking away. He didn’t live beneath the lording presence of his father anymore, but he was still Adrien Agreste. It was a name that would always hang over him, and now it’d hang over Chat too.

“Adrien.” Plagg. He was floating over by the computer screens. He’d been generally quiet since the day before, only meekly asking for cheese. It seemed he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the reveal either. Not that Adrien could blame him. One answer spurred people to want more. To understand. Neither Adrien nor Plagg were sure they wanted people to have any more understanding.

“What?” he said, sounding tired from where he was watching the sun rise outside the windows.

“It’s here,” was all Plagg had to say, Adrien blinking once before turning and heading over to his plethora of computer monitors. Sitting down in his rolling chair, he leaned forward to examine the report Plagg had found. It was a local station, not as well known as those on the television, but it’d be enough. The news would break. Everyone would know.

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Chat.

Over 444 layers and more than one late night and I’ve finally finished it!! YOu hear that UNIverse! I FInished IT!!!! …… I’m gonna go sleep now.

When I was born my grandmother cried because I wasn’t a boy

“My son’s life is ruined. He’s ruined.” “To top it off she’s so dark.” My cries were louder than hers. I was too eager to live. An unwelcome troublemaker from birth

But that’s not where my story starts

A few hundred years ago, some men sailing on blue waters wound up on brown land And they decided they’d walk on anything that wasn’t white

I remember scrubbing my face with a “formula” at age 12 3 tubes Fair and Lovely 2 tablespoon bleach Countless years of colonialism shoved into my DNA An old ancestral recipe

I’ve seen light-skinned become default beauty I’ve seen makrani and bengali become an insult

Dad told me to wear a dupatta Dad let me wear shorts on a different continent Dad controls the length of my kameez

I remember being pushed around My chachoo pinching all the fat he could find on me “You’re so ugly” Joke’s on him I pissed on his bed when he was abusing the maid I may not have a penis But boy can I aim

My story started before ‘47 Even before the start of that century I was born in rebellion They called it mutinous But we bathed in the independence of our own blood I was born in that revolution I hear the sword clashes every day

I have been denounced for colour sex and country

One time I flew a kite in New York When it reached as high as I could take it I let it go I will not hold on to limits

I will let my hair remain dark I will not buy lenses of a lighter shade I will not paint my skin white Brown is too fucking majestic to erase

I was born on the land of the poor And I will not fool myself with the luxury of diaspora I was born on the Earth of men And I will not die with the gates of misogyny open

my name is Sana and if you wept when I was a child

you will quiver when I am a woman

Doodles between classes! @miraculousturtle, there’s a Ladrien doodle for you ;)

IM MELTING. BOTH ARE WONDERFUL. THIS TURLE AND HER SOUL IS VERY HAPPY WITH BOTH THE LADRIEN AND MARICHAT!!

Rippling Dreams

Summary: Adrien dreams of a girl in red and black spots with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. And he dreams of losing her and curses himself for being useless every night. AU where Ladybug sacrifices herself and Chat has amnesia.

A/N: I am crap and I really like pain. And I shall share it with you. Here ya go!

Word Count: 2.1k+

Read it on FFnet / AO3

When Adrien dreams, he dreams of a golden lit Paris at night, the luminous moon hanging eternally in the sky, him crouching casually on a rooftop and a girl standing next to him. The distant lights of the Eiffel Tower twinkle, as if fairy dust was sprinkled all over the magnificent structure, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to the scenic view in front of him. Instead, he’s marvelling at the girl and the city reflected in her sky-blue eyes.

She’s a slender girl, wearing a full bodysuit of red and black spots and a similarly patterned mask over her face, but he finds that the red draws him in all the more. Her glossy midnight hair shines sapphire blue in the light, tied in two very endearing pigtails, which sway as she turns to him, smiling and offering a hand for him to stand up.

Adrien stares speechlessly, frozen as he is struck by the full force of her hypnotic eyes. He remembers that she’s still waiting for him to take his hand, and suddenly he is scared. Terrified. He is aware that she’s a very pretty girl who instantly makes him feel incredibly self-conscious, but the fear chills him too deeply in his chest to be something that simple.

But her smile gives him courage, the courage to reach out to her outstretched hand.

He doesn’t manage to touch it. Because the girl starts to disappear in front of his eyes and Adrien springs up in alarm, stumbling on his legs to chase after her fading figure. He reaches out to her, trying again and again, to bring her back, to feel her warm beating body against his, but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who she is but a name tumbles out of his mouth:

“Ladybu-”

And Adrien wakes up. He is in his room, alone, in his cold mansion and there is no red to be found.

Countless times, he has woken up in the same manner. He always forgets the name his dream self utters but he always remembers the girl in his dreams.

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*in awe*