#I disagreed with her on an issue and she proceeded to cut me off and ignore me for the rest of the class

[memories-break-our-fall]

there is a teacher I have i hate her so much ugh (vent in tags includes mild homophobia so uh. ig don’t read it if you don’t wanna see that)

[yamujiburo]

Jessie and Cassidy reconciliation fanfic thing

I was going through my notes app just now to just clear out some junk and I found something I'd written like a year ago and totally forgot about hahhaha. I don't usually do fanfics but I guess I was in a writing mood that night. I can't remember why I stopped. I either got stuck, didn't know how I wanted it to end or was just having a hard time figuring out like,,,, the arcs and what I wanted the main focus of the story to be. Anyhow, here it is if you wanna read the set up I made for it haha

Jessie, James and Meowth have once again failed to complete a mission and Matori is TIRED of it. She brings it up go Giovanni who tells her not to worry about them. Matori can’t figure out why Giovanni puts up with them and starts digging on possible reasons why Giovanni would keep them around. She decides to go to HR to find answers. There, she meets Wendy.

“Ah– Matori!”

“Pull up records for Jessie, James and–“, Matori notices that Wendy already has Jessie’s files pulled up and gives her a strange look.

“I see you’re already doing your research on Miss Jessie…”

“N-no! Well, yes. It’s just that Jessie has continuously failed almost all missions she’s been assigned! Not to mention she’s singlehandedly almost made the organization go broke. Well, not really but she still owes a lot of money!”

“And the other two?”

“Huh? Oh yeah them, too I guess.”

“I just don’t understand what Giovanni could possible see in them. They’re not good for Team Rocket.”

“Tell me about it, I’ve been trying to get the boss to fire them for years. But he’s got a real soft spot for them apparently. Tch, to think they were the top of their class once.”

“Hmph, I find that hard to believe.”

“I can’t speak for James and Meowth, but Jessie really was a promising recruit. So much so that when she threatened to quit, she somehow manipulated every exec into fulfilling her demands.”

“Threatened to quit?” The gears in Matori’s head began to turn. Sure Giovanni wouldn’t fire the trio, but if they were to quit, there would be nothing he could do.

“Yeah, she had a falling out with her first partner. And instead of being PROFESSIONAL she wined until she got a new one. Then she proceeded to go through like 10 more partners until James came along. If you’ve ever talked to her I’m sure you can tell she’s not the easiest person to work with.”

“Hm. Perhaps it’s time to switch up some teams.”

“C-can you do that? Is that allowed?”

“I could pull some strings.”

“Isn’t that sabotage?” Wendy asks. Matori shoots her a look.

“Call it what you want, but it’s my job to make sure this organization is successful as possible. Getting rid of some problem lackeys will only benefit Team Rocket. If Giovanni won’t do anything about them, then I will.”

“Matori. You are my hero”

“Are there any potential candidates we could temporarily team them up with? Or members they’ve been known to… not get along with?”

A big, Gengar-like smile creeps on Wendy’s face. “I know just the agents.”

_____________________________________________________________

Early in the morning in Jessie and James’ base, they get a call from Matori. Jessie is already annoyed, knowing who’s calling, but she wakes up her team members just in case it was Giovanni.

“A little early don’t you think, Matori?” Matori composes herself and ignores Jessie’s jab.

“Giovanni hasn’t arrived yet, but I have very important news.” Jessie, James and Meowth’s interests are piqued. “Your success rates have been… less than exemplary. But, you have previously shown you are exceptional agents.”

Jessie is taken aback by the, sort of, compliment from Matori. “So what’s the issue?”

“We have reason to believe that, while neither of you are individually the reason for your constant failures, you are incompatible as a team and you are going to be reassigned to different partners, effective immediately.”

James and Meowth look at each other shocked, and the thoughts going through their head were interrupted by their soon to be, not-leader. “WHAT?! You can’t split us up! We–“

“I apologize for the inconvenience. But this is for the benefit of Team Rocket. I do not have time to argue this. It has already been decided and your new partners have been decided. James, you are to return to headquarters where you will meet your new partner and Jessie, you will remain where you are and your new partner will arrive tomorrow.”

“What about, Me-owth?”

Matori pauses. She hadn’t thought about the cat. “You can decide who you wish to go with. Thank you for your time. Best of luck with your new arrangements.”

Matori hangs up. Jessie, James and Meowth stand staring at the screen, solemn. What doe they do now? Years of working together over, just like that.

“UGH THAT LITTLE FOUR EYED BOWL CUT HAIRED FREAK! I’m gonna do something about this! They can’t do this to us!” James gently puts his had on Jessie’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing we can do,”

James packs up, Meowth has decided to go with James. They say their goodbyes. James and Meowth grab the rest of their things and leave. Jessie is left alone with her thoughts.

_____________________________________________________________

Back at headquarters, we see James and Meowth being led by Matori to her office where she says his new partner is waiting. She talks about how this member is in a very similar situation. They walk in and see short, green hair. “BUTCH???”

“Oh no not you guys!”

“If you’re my new partner, that must mean…”

“Oh no,” they all say in unison.

_____________________________________________________________

Jessie still lying in the same place on her bed. Why was she feeling this way? She’d been through so many parters before. Sure she’d been with James and Meowth longer, but she wasn’t one to get attached. Well, not anymore. In the middle of her thought, she hears the elevator to the base coming down. She gets up and makes herself as presentable as possible (over shirt is off, makeup kinda smeared, boots off). Before she can get her shit together, a pair of white boots click, clack in. Jessie looks up, and the flash of orange, blonde seared her eyes.

“CASSIDY?!”

“JESSIE?!”

“No, no, no there has to be some sort of mistake. I can’t be teamed up with you! I hate you!”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I can’t believe I going to have to work with your ugly ass every day.”

“You’re one to talk. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Jessie turned to the standup mirror leaning against the wall. She was definitely not looking her best.

“You caught me at a bad time!”

“You sure? I recall you always looking this ratty. I guess it has been a while since I’ve seen you, thank goodness," Cassidy said smugly. Jessie was already pissed off.

“We’re calling Matori RIGHT NOW to fix this.”

“Gee, while you’re looking like that?”

“I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT.” Jessie picked up the communicator, which brandished a large R on the wall. Matori picked up.

“Good afternoon Jessie, are you aware that you’re not in uniform?”

“Cut the crap you clod! You set me up with Cassidy on purpose!”

“Ah I see you’ve met your new partner! Hello, Cassidy.”

“Matori,” Cassidy said with a small bow. Of course Cassidy was trying to stay composed. Just another way to try one-up Jessie.

“We can NOT work together. I demand you put me back on my old team!”

“While I’m not one to disagree with higher ups, Miss Matori, I unfortunately have to side with Jessie on this one. You might not be aware but Jessie and I were partners once in our training days. We simply are not compatible,” Cassidy explained as politely as possible.

“Was there a reason for this, incompatibility? I was looking through your records and it appeared that you two were quite the team back in the day. I had assumed that the executives just wanted two top agents to be on other teams with some less skilled trainees.” Both Cassidy and Jessie blushed.

It was true that Jessie and Cassidy were at the top of their class for quite some time. But the reasons for them being split up were quite… personal.

“Listen, we just can’t work together. Try getting that through that helmet head of yours.”

_____________________________________________________________

~aaaaand this is where i got to~

Anyone wanna finish this for me? /j

I can't remember where I wanted this to go. I think I was gonna have Jessie and Cassidy try to suck it up and work together so they don't lose their jobs. They fight Ash and Goh, trying to get Pikachu as usual and quickly fail because of their bickering. They eventually have a heart to heart, wondering where they went wrong back when they were a team. They say a lot of things that they'd failed to communicate in the past and reconcile.

THEN this is where I kinda got stuck on what I wanted the focus/them to me. There was a version in my head where after they reconcile they like,,, make out and start falling in love again (for those new here, I firmly believe Jessie and Cassidy are bitter exes and had a falling out during their training days). After this their chemistry and communication improve immensely resulting in them succeeding to catch Pikachu. Matori comes to retrieve it but Ash and Goh get it back while it's in Matori's hands (making it her failure). And then I wasn't sure how to end this version. Maybe things going back to normal after Giovanni finds out that Jessie and Cassidy are dating and deems it unprofessional. Jessie, James and Meowth are reunited and Cassidy and Butch are as well. Happy ending were things are as they were but now Cassidy and Jessie are on good terms and still together maybe???

The oooother version was centering the story more around Jessie and her inability to keep her partners/not appreciating them. If I went with this I think I'd start off the story differently with her being a dick to James and Meowth (which she is a lot of the time but this time she crosses a line). After the team switch she finds that she really had been taking her teammates for granted. I think Cassidy and Jessie still have that heart to heart but then it's more about how Jessie hurt Cassidy and Jessie kinda realizes that she's still making the same errors currently. They reconcile buuut the both of them still want their old partners back so they hatch a plan to successfully steal Pikachu but ensure that Ash gets it back when it's in Matori's hands. They request that they be paired up with their old teammates and in exchange, wouldn't tell Giovanni that Matori messed up. Everything goes back to normal the end.

I had too many jumbled ideas and because I don't have the attention span to write for more than a couple hours I just dropped this LOL. Just thought I'd share in case anyone found this remotely interesting or entertaining hehe

[chaoticspacefam]

The Lana Shipping Meme!

This is a meme made by @swtor-legacy-sitcom​ who very kindly tagged me to fill it in, thank you! :D This was super fun, I’ve been in a bit of a writing rutt lately so this was a nice way to sort-of dip my toe back into it :P I TOTALLY forgot this was in my drafts and forgot to schedule it to post, I’m soooo sorry it took so long lmao 😳😬

I’m not sure if we’re supposed to tag other people with this one so I’ll just leave a general, open tag here: if you have a Lana ship and want to fill this one out, feel free to yoink the meme and say I tagged you! Yes, I promise I mean you <3

Spoilers for KOTFE/KOTET, and slight spoilers for the Subterfugeverse “version” of said events, will be discussed below, so be aware of that before proceeding! There’s also some midlly nsfw questions so you might wanna skip those if they’re not your thing! :D Under a cut because it’s long, but no trigger warnings need apply.

Is Lana Beniko absolutely done with their shit?

Oh yes, absolutely. Nearly always. At any given time, BUT Lana wouldn’t have it any other way. Saarai may be a reckless, overly-heroic idiot with seemingly no self-preservation, but she’s Lana’s reckless, overly-heroic idiot, ya know :’D

Do they make jokes together?

Fairly often, yes! Theirs is very much a flirty/fond banter type of relationship. Lana tells her she’s insufferable, Saarai rolls her eyes and snarks back, so on. See:

Saarai: Well this was a stupid idea Lana: Considering it was one of yours, I’m not surprised Saarai: Why didn’t you say something? Lana: I did and you did it anyway. And what have we learnt from this? Saarai, quietly: I’m a dumbass and I should listen to you more.... Lana: Good. I still love you, though. Saarai: :’D

Lana, two minutes later: You’re going to do it again, aren’t you? Saarai: Yeah, probably.

as well as that little cutscene “You’d better come back blah blah blah” “Well I have you to rescue me, that’s all I need~” is their default pre-dangerous battle banter :P

Who’s hornier? (who initiates)

Saarai is definitely hornier, and while she’s not always the one to initiate, she’s definitely the one to ask more often. (if I had to give it a number, prolly something like 65/45 lol) One of these days, Lana’s going to buy a spray bottle /jk

Kinkiest they’ve been?

Not awfully. Saarai’s a biter (Lana likes it, don’t worry 😏) and she loves it when Lana pulls her hair, but other than that, and making use of connections within the Force to heighten the sensations during such activities ;) they’re pretty vanilla

There was a post going around a while back about an alternative to a praise kink that was like, a “reassurance” kink, instead. I can’t find the actual post to link to it and I haven’t pinned down any specifics for them yet but I definitely think that’s a Saarai thing to look into later 😏

Has Lana ever covered up something your OC did as Minister of Intelligence?

In a roundabout way, yes. Technically, Saarai’s entire existence on Rishii. Since, teeechhnically, as far as the Empire’s concerned at that point, Rai’s supposed to be dead. Lana doesn’t know the technicalities of why that is (and Saarai isn’t comfortable telling her, even now), but she knows it’s important, so she does it for her even if she doesn’t know why.

Favorite non sexual downtime activity?

Cuddles! Saarai is a cuddlebug, and while Lana enjoys them she’s definitely not the “if I don’t get cuddled x times a day I can’t go on” type (in my headcanon, ofc, I’m not saying she can never be that way!) but, Saarai’s also very warm and cuddling her is cozy, so it’s something they both enjoy, whether Rai’s the big spoon, or - and this is Rai’s favourite thing ever - Saarai putting her head in Lana’s lap so Lana can play with her hair, it’s something they always do at the end of the day when they’re both done with work.

Mushiest thing Your OC has ever done for Lana?

So, I’m too impatient & lazy to do the actual HK missions in-game, but I know you can technically get another HK unit, so because ✨it’s my fanfic and I get to make the rules✨ Saarai sent Aria (my DS! Jedi Shadow, very good at stealth) back to Zakuul and though it was a bit battered up, she managed to retrieve HK’s processor. They had to get him a new chassis, but Koth and Ty managed to salvage the rest of his “important” bits and they rebuilt HK for her after they settled on Odessen :’3

Most Embarrassed Lana has ever been because of your OC?

In the middle of an important meeting, in front of everyone on the Alliance High Council, including Theron, Senya, Ni’kasi, Vano, etc.

Lana, sarcastically, after they’ve been disagreeing on how to handle a particular matter for ~1 hr: hahaha bite me.

Saarai, dead serious: Okay, where? 😏

Lana was mortified, to say the least XD

That thing that happened that they vow to NEVER speak of?

Saarai’s reaction when they went to Nathema. Rai’s psychometric, and in hindsight she realises putting her hand on that wall as she ducked into the building was a mistake. She was bombarded with flashback after flashback of what had happened on Nathema when it was still Medriaas, the planet where she was born and where most of her family died, it was not a pleasant experience for her and Rai actually collapsed at one stage because it was all too much for her ;w;

Lana had to bring her back around and herd her back on the ship, where Rai had to wait because she just couldn’t go any further, and Lana and Vano had to go on alone. Lana agreed not to tell anyone else about what had happened, because Saarai didn’t want any of them to worry about her, or think she was “weak” because of it.

The Angriest they’ve ever been at each other?

There’s actually two instances that come to mind for this one

1) Koth’s betrayal/stealing of the Gravestone, Lana was pissed at Koth and wanted to take it out on him, Saarai was pissed at the situation and got between them and chewed Lana out for taking it out on him. (Subterfugeverse is kinda complicated, there’s two Commanders calling the shots for different parts of the Alliance, Koth took issue with something Vano did and made the reckless, kinda stupid decision to still steal the Gravestone even tho Saarai didn’t do anything. (also for anyone new to the blog, all three of them are dating, they’re polyam ;)) Lana took it personally, Saarai was more upset that he was upset and didn’t say anything before he did something stupid. Rai and Lana butted heads about how to deal with it, Lana got salty cause she got yelled at, but they ofc fix it later :3)

2) Torian’s death. Saarai had tried to warn Lana what would happen if they split Vette & Torian up during that fight, Lana brushed it off and told Rai to “stop overreacting, it will be fine”. Obviously, it was not fine. Rai was very angry at the result because, I quote, “I WARNED YOU! And you wouldn’t listen to me!” Saarai refused to speak to Lana for a few days after that, it was kinda a rough time for Lana, she’s only seen Rai get that angry a few times, and only once at her so it shook her a bit. 😢

How does both Lana, and your OC initiate the ‘fade to black’ ;)

For Saarai, the “indicator” is usually when her kisses start to become 50/50 between kissing and biting/nibbling. That’s the universal “ok I want to” signal for Rai. Usually very quickly followed by a soft “yes?” or “are you sure?”, either against her skin or into her ear, depending on where she’s kissing at the time; because she’ll always check first, and if Lana says “no”, it’s off, because Lana’s consent is more important than any of her feelings.

For Lana, it’s when she’ll let Rai pick her up and/or usually to pin her to a wall. There’s a decent height difference, Saarai’s 6 ft 3, and I headcanon that while Lana’s not necessarily “short” at around 5 ft 8, she’s considerably smaller than Rai, as well as being more “reserved” with PDA, she’ll hold hands, or kiss her on the cheek etc. in front of other people, but otherwise Lana tries to keep somewhat “professional” while they’re at work. So when she starts climbing her like a tree, Rai knows she’s about to get some. XD

Do they have kids?

Kiiiinddd of? It’s complicated. Saarai has a son, Ty, from a previous relationship. Lana & Koth both sort of step up to help co-parent, but since Sith Purebloods age differently (i.e. they’re adults at ~20ish the same as humans, but after that they’re more like elves and their physical aging slows down, so they’re more long-lived), even though Ty’s very young by Pureblood standards, he’s still 60 years old, so he’s technically older than Lana and it’s kind of awkward for him to actually call her mom even if she kind of acts like one. He accidentally called her “mom” once, it was very awkward for both of them XD

What has been the most protective Lana has ever had of said kid?

I sat and scratched my head for ages trying to think of something to answer this question with, but I’m very sad to say that right now at the time of answering this meme, I don’t have any specific scenes planned out to tell you about! :( But rest assured that Lana absolutely would rush to help Ty if it was ever necessary :D

House pets? Is your Lana a dog person, or Cat person?

Funnily enough, they don’t actually have any pets! I’d like to think of Lana as more of a cat person than a dog person, in my personal opinion. But they have yet to get any pets of their own, maybeee later on, I dunno. Haven’t hit on any solid ideas for them yet, but I feel like if they happened upon a cute kitty they definitely could adopt one at some stage :’3

Do they get freaky on the Alliance Base or in the Shuttles?

They’ve done both, to be honest lol. Thankfully, Saarai’s sneaky enough that they haven’t gotten caught doing it, yet. Thank the Force.

Are their Sparring Matches Flirtatious? Hardcore?

They could go either way, it depends on what kind of mood they’re both in. If Lana’s particularly annoyed (usually not at Rai, but sometimes) then it’s more likely to be a hardcore spar, Rai’s a pretty tough cookie so she’ll often offer to be Lana’s punching bag in order to spare them some repair bills so she doesn’t rip apart the training dummies irrepairably, it’s okay, Rai can take it ;)

But if they’re both in an otherwise good mood and are just sparring for practise sakes, then yes, they often very quickly devolve into flirtacious banter and some of the classics, you know, “okay you win, you can let me go now” “mmm, nah” “I thought we were sparring” “do you want me to stop” “...don’t you dare.” etc. :’D

Class Specific things that play into their relationship?

Saarai’s a Juggernaut, and I headcanon Lana’s probably some sort of Sorcerer, so they tend to fight as such. They cover each other in more ways than one, if you want to get to Lana you have to go through Saarai first (and good luck to you, that woman can take and give a fucking beating lmao). Lana picks off whatever Saarai’s saber misses, usually with Force attacks but sometimes with her saber, too. Saarai takes bullets for Lana so Lana doesn’t have to get hurt. Lana yells at Rai for doing that and then fixes her up with Force healing afterwards, rinse and repeat. :’D

When they do argue, Lana tends to spontaneously manifest Force lightning, Saarai’s used to it and doesn’t bat an eyelid, she knows Lana’s not actually going to throw it at her and she’s more than prepared to dodge any stray bolts that do come her way.

Lana’s the tactician and the ground support, Saarai’s the battering ram/the bigass hammer used to clear space when Lana needs a bit of extra “oomph” (and trust me, they’re usually never far apart. The other one will be there and then you’ll be in trouble lmao)

Describe a time your OC went ‘Full beast mode’ to protect Lana, instead of the other way around?

"Kriff. Koth, what happened?” Three words was all it took, and everything made sense: “They hurt Lana.”

That scene in the Endless Swamps on Zakuul, just before they pull the Gravestone out of it and Lana and the Commander get ambushed. Saarai went with Lana & Koth to break Vano out of carbonite (since Saarai was still on Rishii at the time, she doesn’t get frozen, only Vano) so when they split up, Saarai goes with Koth to look for ship parts while Vano goes with Lana to look for water.

Lana and Vano get ambushed by the Knights/Skytroopers, and Lana’s hand gets busted. It takes Saarai and Koth a little while to rush over there to help them, but when they do

Saarai. Goes. Fucking. Feral. It’s the scariest she’s ever been in front of Lana and Lana will never forget it, they almost didn’t really need Senya’s help for that part, Saarai basically had it covered. I imagine Lana later described it as “kind of hot, but also kind of terrifying, actually”

Saarai’s considered Chaotic Good, so generally speaking if there’s a peaceful, non-violent solution to a problem, she’ll opt for that, but she has a few buttons that you just do not want to push, ever. And hurting her partners is one of those buttons. She will go apeshit and that’s exactly what happened in the swamp lmao

Little things couples do to annoy each other. What does Lana do? What does your OC do?

Saarai likes to wake up early and hide Lana’s kaf mug in increasingly ridiculous places. Once, she even got Koth to help her stick it to the top of the Gravestone’s hull. It took Lana half the morning to find it, Lana was not amused. XD

Saarai and Koth also have an ongoing “terrible puns” contest where they basically see who can annoy Lana with the most ridiculous puns possible, see this post for an example :P Lana wonders where/how they keep coming up with these puns, she really does.

Does Lana get jealous in your headcanon?

Not really! In Subterfugeverse, both Rai and Lana are polyam, so generally speaking, jealousy isn’t a problem for them, and when it is it’s more of a case of “hey. Hey. Hey, I’m not getting enough attention, pay attention to me.” and then it’s usually dealt with and all is well ;)

When Lana meets Anri, the only thing Saarai does is tease her about “when she’s going to make the move”. 😜

Story that is prominent in their relationship?

I was gonna draw a little doodle for this but the poses kept not coming out right so I gave up, sorryyy qAq

I haven’t gotten very far into planning the SoR onwards+ segments of Subterfugeverse, just bits and bobs like this, but I’d say for now the most prominent is probably their first meeting on Rishii. Basically, meet-cute but with a lightsaber involved too hahaha. There was a lot of posturing and flirty subtext right from the get-go with these two, even if Saarai was particularly suspicious at first (see the earlier question about her being technically dead to the Empire). At first, when she noticed Lana tailing Ty (because Lana was extremely confused about why a Pureblood was so far from Sith space ;)), Saarai assumed that something had happened to her twin and the Empire had A) found out she and Ty were still alive and B) Sent Lana to track them down and kill them for good. Several tension-loaded hours later and Lana managed to convince Rai that actually, Ni’kasi was fine and speaking of, she was trying to avoid being killed too so maybe, actually, they could help each other. And that was all she wrote <3

[fereldenshero]

Bucks been through a lot of physical shit but he never had any emotional trauma. There was times like the red episode, the Daniel storyline, and Buck telling Eddie he wishes it was him that got shot that hint that Buck might be dealing with some deeper mental issues, but then these issues always end up being completely solved by one pep talk from Eddie or Maddie at the end of the episode and are never mentioned again

boy oh boy, this sure is one of the opinions ever! let us go through all the reasons why i disagree, shall we?

first off, i want to preface this by saying that im extremely behind on the show. like, the last season i fully watched was season 3. the only episodes from season 4 that ive seen are s4e4 and s4e5 (ive been a buck girl since 2018, idk what to tell ya) and then ive also seen a few gifs from s4e14. plus, i havent seen any full episodes in a long ass time. so when i mention specific events that happened in the show, i could either be totally misremembering or just straight up not know what happened. okay? okay! (im also putting this under a read more bc it got a bit long thumbsup)

so first off, i dont. fully agree with him going through "a lot of physical shit". there could be instances that happened in s4 or s5 that im just not aware of yet, but as far as i know, the only instances of physical trauma came from him getting his leg crushed in s2e18. personally, i lump in his broken leg, pulmonary embolism, and the severe cut he got during the tsunami episodes as kind of one instance since they all happened due to one incident, but youre more than free to separate them if youd like. even then, thats not a whole lot ? i mean, it is quite a bit for a regular person to go through, but for a tv show character in a show thats lasted for 5+ seasons, it doesnt Feel like a lot. if there are any other instances where hes gotten hurt that im missing, totally feel free to let me know, but thats all im aware of

"he never had any emotional trauma." okay. well first off, dont you think that serious physical injuries would lead to a lot of emotional trauma? especially something like, oh, i dont know, getting your entire leg crushed underneath a firetruck? i feel like that would have some lasting effects on a person. second off, you just. proceeded to list off things that definitely indicate Something? im not quite sure what "the red episode" is, but the daniel storyline is definitely going to fuck with him for a while, plus seeing one of your closest friends get shot, is. well thats gonna stick with you. theres also no indication that hes not still dealing with the aftermath of those instances. just because we're not actively seeing him say "this thing happened to me, and it was bad and still sticks with me" doesnt mean that those things didnt happen and werent bad and werent still effecting him. theres also no indication that after speaking with maddie and eddie, that he was magically cured or that their "pep talks" fixed everything. im not sure about the specifics about the one with eddie, but i know that with maddie, talking with her most definitely didnt fix anything. if anything, it just. helped him a bit. it didnt magically fix him, it didnt make everything all better. all it did was help him with understanding that hes not broken or unloved and that shes always there for him. just because they havent been explicitly brought up since they happened, doesnt mean theyre not still effecting buck to this day. from my understanding, season 5 has been more focused on maddie (+ chimney as well i think) and eddie, so it makes sense that they havent expanded on those specific events yet. the 911 writers dont strike me as the type of tv writers to just. forget character development theyve done. im sure theyll bring everything that they need to bring up, when they need to. 911 is a show about patience - us as the audience always have to wait to see what happens, and how they get brought back up.

[kob131]

https://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/635993185636827136

The first slide that ISN’T a summary and we have serious issues.

The two examples given do NOT reflect on Ironwood’s viewpoint or actions. They’re one off mentions by OTHER characters. IRONWOOD is not reaching out to people here, Ruby and Ozpin effectively are. And Ruby and Ozpin are big on the whole ‘team up!’ thing (to the point Ruby tried to talk RAVEN into joining them.)

So? This is Volume 2, long before Ironwood faces the negative events than change him as a person. Acting like he’s the exact same person then and now is disingenious is a VERY extreme degree.

Glynda: Trouble sleeping?

Ironwood: (Looking back, gripping his shoulder with the other hand.) Arm was acting up.

Glynda: Of course, so logically, you got out of bed, dressed yourself completely and decided to gaze menacingly out into the distance. (Approaches all the way to his side, then looks at him concerned.) What's wrong?

Ironwood: I've trusted him for years. We both have. I just... I can't help but feel like he's keeping us in the dark.

Glynda: Don't be ridiculous! You know very well that we are not the ones in the dark.

Ironwood: (Laughs humorously.) That makes it worse! I refuse to believe that a man that I've trusted for so long would act so... passively.

Glynda: (Puts a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder.) You're a good person, James. You've always done what you think is best for the people, even against strong protest. It's admirable. But it's high time you stopped talking about trust and started showing it. (Drops her hand as they stare into the distance together.) Ozpin has experience that the rest of us lack. And I think that's something worth remembering.

This is the full conversation. Which is rather important given how much it emphasizes that Ironwood looks up to and respects Ozpin...who we all know is about to get cut off from his allies.

Skipping through a LOT here as it’s just a bunch of ‘Hey look! Ironwood’s being nice!’ along with tangents. I’d love to address them all to prevent any accusations of manipulation but I’m not repeating myself: Ironwood being nice is not a contradiction of what he will do (in fact, one can very well see that his empathy is a FACTOR in his decision).

‘Being cautious’. That is an important statement here. Because ‘being cautious’ would also include going for the decision that’s guruanteed to save a few people rather than the decision that MIGHT save a lot of people (a ‘safe bet vs. gamble’ if you will).

Ironically here, OP just displayed how Ironwood’s actions are consistent with his previous ones.

The man whose allies weren’t hacked?

Also note how this DOESN’T have anything to do with the actual argument at hand. It’s not about showing an inconsistency with Ironwood: it’s about making the character look good. It’s a tell from the OP that what they SAY they’re arguing for doesn’t match the actual ACTIONS. OP is not upset that Ironwood is inconsistent- She’s upset that Ironwood is being portrayed NEGATIVELY.

So you’re saying we should throw away all our tech based on the work by Nazi scientists because we disagree with how it was originally used? You try to call hypocrisy here and yet fail to address the distinct difference between the intention/moral implications behind tech and how it’s actually used.

Not to mention how a lot of this is fucking bullshit. Like the army point was about how bringing his army to Vale was a bad idea due to putting people on edge...and then the Grimm attacked, which pretty much made that a non-issue. Or how about the objection of the Aura experimenting wasn’t actually condemning Ironwood? Or how they sympathize with Ironwood and still CONDEMN his actions? Or how the Penny thing flat out wasn’t said?

My pattern senses are also tingling. Specifically the ‘manipulation’ part.

Now it’s all about arguing how Ironwood is actually totally and factually right, as if this isn’t a story.

Issue?

‘In This Story’. AKA The OP has already argued from a meta standpoint but is now trying to argue as if the story is real.

There’s also the complete disregard for the CONSEQUENCES of Ironwood’s actions.

Ironwood brings an army? Gets hacked, turns on the citizens, wrecks Vale and Atlas’ reputation is shot.

Ironwood doesn’t tell the truth about Penny? She gets used as a lynchpin in Cinder’s plan.

Ironwood closes off the border? Atlas’ reputation is further shot and it gives reason to Team RWBY to question him.

Ironwood doesn’t include the council? Their trust in him is dead and they get in his way.

Ironwood doesn’t help Mantle despite their fear, distrust and dislike of Atlas and the very real threat of Grimm? Helps Robyn rise to power who in turn openly distrusts him and conflicts with him, making things harder and causing a rift with his allies.

Fucking hell, a lot of Ironwood’s mistakes are REPEATS of his past mistakes, like his unilateral action in a team effort or him excluding people. Not to mention his preaching of Ozpin’s morals then proceeding to trample all over them and expect everyone to follow him. Stuff that OZPIN got punished for in the previous Volume and Ruby and co. got punished for in the SAME Volume as Ironwood.

He was never portrayed as power hungry. He’s STILL not portrayed as power hungry.

I’ll go ahead and destroy this entire slide show with one quote from one episode, a quote you seem terrified of given how you completely gloss over it despite addressing literally EVERYTHING ELSE with Ironwood.

Volume 4 Episode 11 ‘Taking Control’

Ironwood: (sighing heavily) Winter is one of my best. If she's telling me there's a threat in Mistral then I am not going to take that news lightly. She's been there for weeks, people are mobilizing, sudden spikes in weapons and Dust trades. Someone is about to make a play and I do not trust Leo to stop them.

Weiss is listening outside.

Jacques: You've never trusted anyone other than yourself!

Ironwood: (shouting) And for good reason!

Weiss covers her mouth with her hand as she gasps at the sound of Ironwood slamming his fist onto the desk.

Ironwood: If Oz had just listened to me from the start...

Jacques: You need to get a grip.

Ironwood: That's exactly what I'm doing. Our people need protection. By this time next week, the Kingdom of Atlas will be officially closing its borders. No one in; no one out. Without the council's permission.

Jacques: You mean, without your permission?

Ironwood: And if that becomes the case, I would think you'd want to be on my good side.

Suddenly your whole narrative fails apart. because here we see the core of how Ironwood became who he was-

The sorrow at his failure at Beacon.

His paranoia confirmed.

His belief that his way is the best.

All things he displayed before then- Now worsen by perceived failure. All thrown out into the open for the audience to see. All things he repeated in Volume 7, worsened AGAIN by betrayal and Salem’s arrival.

You can call out all you want about the good things Ironwood has done and how he’s ‘right’- it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t disprove what he showcased here. His empathy in fact would MAKE IT WORSE because he feels responsible for people’s lives so he can’t hesitate to save them. Like say, hesitate to listen to a person whose lied to him or a perceived obstacle *cough* Oscar and Slate *cough*.

He’s not a deconstruction of a cold hearted dictator or a sudden evil villain.

He’s a deconstruction of the Well Intention Extremist trope, showcasing that his intent matters not in the face of his actions and the flaws he fails to overcome. He’s a depressingly real person (I’ve certainly felt like him before) but that doesn’t justify his actions or make him right,

And no woobie pandering will change that.

[roleplcyheaux]

stop sending messages about kelly to amanda. jc its like youre obsessed.

i rarely curse at people but fuck you. and i mean that from the bottom of my heart. i don’t know what possessed you to send me this ask in the first place because i haven’t been on the dash in days but fuck you. i’m not sending messages about kelly to amanda. kelly hasn’t crossed my mind in months. i haven’t spoken or uttered her name in conversation even longer than that. ya’ll are so quick to accuse people of things with no evidence? the fact that you assume everyone who sends in questions about these people are just jaded friends / members is the problem! none of you want to take responsibility for your actions so you’d rather just brush off the stuff being said about you as “hate” and “negativity”. i’ve made one post about kelly in my entire existence on this website. AND I EVEN SUGAR COATED THAT ONE POST by only sticking to rp related instances! i went to painstaking lengths to ensure nothing i wrote about her came across as mean or inflammatory. there’s a whole paragraph where i sang her praises. why? cause for a very long time she was someone very dear to me and i didn’t want to crucify her in the public eye because i believe people can change and grow. but since ya’ll love to villainize people, let me just say this.

if i wanted to send amanda messages it would be:

about that time i made a post on my personal during the 2016 election ( or maybe directly after i can’t remember ) where i said something about trump supporters being ignorant ( literally one of the least nasty thing that can be said about trump supporters ) and kelly messaged me on skype upset that i said that because her family members were trump supporters. i literally had to APOLOGIZE TO HER for saying something about trump supporters. even though they were outwardly spewing anti-immigration propaganda and encouraging trump’s muslim registry nonsense. two things kelly knows i am, an immigrant & a muslim. still, i “agreed to disagree” so she wouldn’t be mad at me. from that day on i felt like i couldn’t post anything political on my blog or else she’d find an issue with it and come confront me again. ( i would link to the post in question but i think i literally deleted it to placate her + skype wont let me scroll back further than april 2017 & this convo happened prior to that )

or maybe the time someone came to me in my inbox to ask about if it was insensitive to play turkish fcs as non-muslim & i answered saying something along the lines like “no it wouldn’t be insensitive but like please keep in mind islam is the largest religion practiced in turkey.” nothing controversial about that right? like i wasn’t telling people that they would be cancelled if they had non-muslim turkish muses but STILL kelly who was in a big turkish fc phase at the time felt the need to then reply to my ask to be like “there are jewish people in turkey too!!!” which is true! there are multiple religions practiced in turkey but that wasn’t what was up for debate in the ask that was sent to me. people already play turkish fcs as anything but muslim. again she messaged me privately afterward saying she hoped it was okay she interjected and to avoid confrontation i didn’t say anything and let it slide cause i told myself she was just excited about exploring judaism as a faith. but just think about it? could you imagine if someone was answering an ask about zoey deutch being jewish & whether it was insensitive to play her as non-practicing & i just inserted myself by saying “um actually people practice other religions in america too!” just because i like playing zoey deutch fcs and may not wanna be held responsible to play her as her religion? LINK TO THE ASK HERE.

or how about that elongated period of time she had not white in the description of her personal? if memory serves me correct her blog title had gypsy in it and someone told her that term was offensive to romani which is when she said she was part romani herself. which then inevitable led to the “not white” identifier on her blog. but multiple times before and after that privately she only talked about her family being italian. rarely if ever did the romani thing ever come up again. only when it was convenient. i’m not trying to say kelly isn’t romani or is lying about identifying as nonwhite but there were multiple times in our friendship where i felt like she was trying to use labels associated to minority groups for some sort of invisible “brownie points” and it was very uncomfortable to me but i never felt comfortable enough to brooch it with her for fear of being exiled from the friend group or accused of being “toxic” the way she described other ex-friends.

or maybe i’d give amanda extra details about stuff i’ve already said about kelly on my blog. like when i said she asked me to play a nina twin with her at a group but then got mad at me for essentially plotting with people? what i didn’t add was that that whole thing happened during ramadan while i was fasting. and she knew it was ramadan cause we talked about it in our gc. i had been working all day helping my family do stuff while fasting only to log on to skype to have one of my best friends accuse me of trying to ruin her plots and fun in a group she invited me to. the whole conversation gave me so much anxiety on top of being hungry & tired from running around a majority of the day. like i kept worrying that if i didn’t respond fast enough that she’d get angry which in turn made me family be upset at me for keeping looking for reasons to be on my phone. her excuse in the end? she was on her period and feeling sensitive. ( LINK TO SCREEN SHOTS )

or what about all those times she would message me privately about people i considered friends and how she didn’t think they liked her. or how she felt unliked and unwanted and i’d have to go out of my way to assure her that wasn’t the case. to the point of my own discomfort. it got the point where i started not enjoying my own rp experience cause i’d feel bad that i was having fun on the dash when she wasnt? it was during a time she claimed she changed and she would always weaponize the narrative people had of her “old self” against me to make me feel bad for being friends / friendly with those people even though she’d keep insisting that it was totally fine & she wasn’t mad about it and simply just “worried” cause she didn’t want to cause “drama” ( to use an example from an instance used in my other ask about kelly: her and my friend lauren had a falling out. when said falling out happened she repeatedly insisted that the rest of us in the friend group didn’t have to “pick sides” then, later down the line, when she found out lauren was joining a group i was opening she then proceeded to use that as one of the reasons why i was being a “shitty friend” to her. LINK BACK TO THAT PART OF THE CONVO )

if i was really obsessed with kelly i would just have submitted the messages i got from people after i made my post about her to amanda. people who were friends with her were coming to me telling me that kelly had done / was doing the same thing to them that she put me through and how they appreciated me speaking up about it. keep in mind i made my post like a year after i stopped being friends with her. which meant that in that time, despite all the claims she had made about changing and being better, she was still treating her friends and the people close to her shitty. i’m not gonna share screen shots of those messages because it seems for all intents and purposes those people have forgiven kelly & are still friends with her and i’m not trying to get them in trouble with her.

i’ve given kelly the benefit of the doubt for years. even after i stopped communicating with her i didn’t say anything about the microaggressions i faced as her friend or how manipulated i felt by her. being her friend often felt like you were one mistake away from being cut off. it’s like you constantly had to prove your loyalty and love to her or else. it took me a long time to realize how our dynamic was extremely unhealthy and even when i realized that i never publicly said anything because i still cared about her and saw how much shit she was getting & didn’t want to add to it. but i’m not the pathetic little hales that can be bullied and talked down to anymore. i’m not gonna allow you to come into my inbox when i was minding my own business and try to make me the bad guy. if people are sending messages to amanda about kelly it’s because she’s got a long list of people she’s hurt & hasn’t resolved anything with. that has nothing to do with me so please kindly get out of my inbox.

[fuck-customers]

Bakery associate BS

I’ve submitted before. I work in the bakery department of a grocery store chain. A few weekends back one of the employees from another department came up to us on a Sunday and was asking if she could get a cake made that day. I kinda gave her that “I don’t know” grimmiace but asked her when she needed it for. She told me the time and I said “oh probably not” and proceeded to tell her she can pick something that was already made out and we can write on it for her or we could write on an ice cream cake. I forget if she walked about before or after I was like “well let me check the special order box to see what our cake decorator for the day has to deal with. The day before he had like 20-something orders and we’re gettin into the busy season because of graduations and all that shit. I decorate cakes too and it’s just MISSERABLE and our main decorator (the one on that shift) is getting to the point where he wants to get fired/wants to walk about bc it’s overwhelming and our manager refuses to help or care and customers are idiot nightmares who won’t give us any information and then hate whatever we make for them or demand an absurd amount of stuff immediately and we just can’t ever win. It sucks so much. BUT I look and was like “oh there isn’t that many orders for today, depending on how much catching up he needs to do maybe he can help.” So I go find her not too far off and told her to speak to the decorator cause we might be able to help (but I usually say no off the bat cause saying yes and then not being able to is worse in my opinion). She seems irritated and was like “My son just got married last night out of no where and now I need a wedding cake for X time!!” And im like “ok, talk to our decorator” and she kinda says something else I forget and I joked “oh you’re a lot nicer than I am cause I’d just bring whatever I could and tell them that’s what they get for demanding something on such short notice” and she goes “Life is short, you have to make people happy.” And it just.... really hit me the wrong way?? I told her I disagreed but I was like, casual about it not down right rude. Ever since then she hasn’t spoken to me at all. She used to be SUPER chipper and nice and now we just pass each other in the building and don’t say anything to one another. I’m not 100% if she’s actually upset at me or not but I suspect she is. And honestly if you work in a grocery store and expect us to do last minute special shit for you that I wouldn’t do for customers either you can get over yourself. I don’t come to your department demanding shit out of turn so don’t do it to me. Managers and associates alike. Cause I had a manger come ask me for SEVERAL special order platters on a Saturday, absolutely last possible second, only to be turned away by me bc OFC you ask when my manager isn’t there (I’d like to think she would have told you no too cause you KNOW to ask for this shit ahead of time) and I had the two weakest employees at the time closing so I knew if we actually attempted them it would have throw closing shift into chaos. Which is another story about seasonal help from super young kids who just suck ass at working bc they aren’t mature enough. Also had to deal with that same issue of wanting last minute cakes the same day from a woman who working in our building BUT NOT OUR COMPANY CAUSE SHE WORKS AT THE BANK LOCATED IN THE SAME BUILDING. She eventually stopped cause I think she realized how much she was pissing us off asking for stuff to be make for her in a few hours. We have TONS of shit to make and a queue of already taken orders. We have to choice but to plan out our days as efficiently as we can because if we don’t make enough/can’t finish tasks we get in trouble and part time workers get their hours cut. Spoiler alert: we never make enough because the goals are often physically impossible for one person to do alone. Because we went from like 4 cake decorators down to 1. And again, the boss who absolutely can help make cakes refuses to 9 times out of 10 cause she’s super lazy and just doesn’t seem to give a shit.

Tl ; dr: Stop making your last minute issues my problem and then get mad at me when I tell you know ESPECIALLY when I try to give you alternative solutions to your problems. Just because you work here too doesn’t mean you get special treatment. If you’re THAT DESPERATE take what you can get you fucking baby.

[chemicalmongrel]

The Union of Beauty and the Beast

Birthday Gift for Francis! | @yunalaqi

Author - Ghost Characters - Warwick, Qiyana, Sizani and Firefang. Word Count - 5,538

It began as many stories of happiness and fulfillment do--with a single spontaneous moment. One crucial meeting that might’ve never happened had the stars not aligned just right, something inconsequential at first blooming into something beatific and majestic. Much like a seed germinated in rich, fertile soil that will one day grow mighty with the right hands to nurture it along and the right level of determination to weather any hardship.  For this, the moment was the day Qiyana and Warwick’s agents agreed on putting together a collab between the two artists. The soil was the constant proximity they had, and their desire to ensure a finished product of superb quality. Meanwhile, the growing fondness they had for one another, the distance between their hearts shortening, were the hands responsible for nurturing the sapling. And their determination to endure strife came through in their refusal to cut off contact once the project came to a close.  They knew one another for several years following their collab, and nothing was ever the same after.  It was most apparent in the works produced by Warwick.  No longer were they harsh, cutting to the quick about seemingly disparate things without any genuine passion behind the words. Rather, more and more harmonious melodies came forward to accentuate loving lyrics directed towards an unseen individual. Each verse was delivered with such enthusiasm and heart that none thought him capable of before. More videos were released about issues around the world, paralleling an increasing effort on the part of the concrete jungle’s king to leave the world a better place than he found it.  Without warning, the beast seemed to have found his long-lost spark amid the embers of the dying fire in his breast.  More subtly was the change in the empress of True Death.  She’d always been a hard-working woman dedicated to seeing the dreams of her and the family she found in the band come to fruition. But after the collab project? It was as if she was trying to outdo herself at every opportunity: rhymes became more fluid, beats resonant all the quicker, the meaning behind every word hit home harder, and the choreography of each video more and more eye-catching.  All in all, it seemed the woman was hellbent on ensuring the stride she hit with her band was but the first stage of TD’s success.  But they never let their evolving relationship slip out to be disseminated to the public. It was all very hush-hush--kept to the coziness of private moments. Of course, this didn’t stop some tenacious people from capturing snippets of intimate moments. Nor did their efforts fully curtail any rumors from being born and spreading to anyone willing to listen. Yet no one realized the entirety of the situation, all thanks to the two’s desire to keep these moments private.  That is until the day Warwick, without concern for anyone watching, decided to take a knee before his queen, his empress, with an outstretched hand and open box.  Then the world of music was abuzz with commotion.

Warwick never expected the sheer scope of planning and setting up a wedding required. This was compounded by the fact that preparing parties had never been his forte, let alone something as paramount as a wedding. This was due in large part to his disdain for large get-togethers. He’d never seen the appeal of trying to rub shoulders with socialites or other well-to-do folks, whether they were part of the music world or not. His dislike for such affairs as those was so great, in fact, that his agents more or less had to bribe him to attend soirees that were very important to his career.  This time, though, was very different--he actually cared about the proceedings, for one. He cared so much that the consideration of performing all manners of awfulness on anyone who tried to spoil the proceedings had crossed his mind a number of times. Yet while he wouldn’t be happy if Qiyana wasn’t, Warwick did his best to console his betrothed when the idea of something going awry worked its way into her head. One way he did so was by taking an active role in helping set the whole thing up.  That way, at the very least, she didn’t have to shoulder the burden alone.  However, this was easier said than done as Qiyana insisted the two of them refrained from seeing one another until the day of, not until she was walking down the aisle. She explained to him--over text--how disaster awaited any bride or groom who met in person before the ceremony. And while he may not have believed such superstition, he was more than willing to humor her to abate her concerns.  Thus he kept his phone on his person at all times, and never let a single notification from his cell go unnoticed.  A notable instance of Warwick needing to shoulder something Qiyana couldn’t see to because of how hectic her schedule was growing the closer the date approached: when she asked him to meet with the wedding planner to help decide on the types of flowers to be used in the decor. It seemed rather trivial to him, but the planner ensured that the proper arrangement of beatific bouquets would cement the memory in every guest’s mind. The skeptic in him wanted to disagree on principle. But he held his tongue and went to go meet with the planner.  They met at the building where the ceremony would be held. I t was an extravagant ballroom lined with massive windows along the back wall as it curved around and provided an overlook of a sandy coastline, the tide lapping against the beach’s particulate without rhyme or reason. One could close their eyes and be serenaded by the oceanic hymn nature was so gracious to provide. There was a gray overcast preventing the usual soft streaks of radiance from cascading through onto the polished marble floor. Rows of seats draped with stark silk and tied off towards the center with an indigo bow provided an aisle for the bride and groom to walk down. Where the aforementioned couple would stand, in front of the priest, was an archway carved out of a single immense block of marble. Floral patterns were conjoined with idyllic scenes of a perennial forest that could trace its history back before the emergence of mankind, all etched into its surface. This ornate aesthetic was furthered by the strips of fine fabric hung from the trusses of the ceiling, each accented by strips of golden embroidery.  Truly, the only thing missing from such a scenic view was a final splash of life and color--the flowers.  “So, I have a few options based on you and your bride’s tastes to choose from--although considering Qiyana’s favorite seems to be the hibiscus, I thought it best to narrow the choices down to species of that specific type.” The way the planner spoke caused Warwick’s ears to chafe.  The woman snapped her fingers three times as she walked with the towering beast down the aisle, stopping and turning to face him once at the spot where the vows would be sworn. Several other people hurried up with an armful of fresh hibiscus bouquets in tow, the bright scarlet heads of the flora bouncing in sync with their carriers’ step. Tiny pearls of gold dotted the tip of the flowers’ stigma, yet the vivid appearance belied a rather modest fragrance.  “These look good, yeah,” Warwick murmured, nodding to himself.  These would no doubt compliment the overall decor if placed with the seats as per Qiyana’s outline. But something nagged at him.  “...these also gunna be used ta scatter on t’e aisle?”  Preoccupied with jotting something down on the papers attached to her clipboard, the planner dismissed the people with a wave of her hand. “Hmm?”  She didn’t even look up from her notes. “Oh. Yes, that would be the plan.”  Looming over her, the beast tapered his eyes and lifted his lips high as either ear stood to attention. He’d never enjoyed having someone not afford him the courtesy of meeting his gaze during a conversation. But this woman, in particular, irked him something fierce.  “Wou’d it be possible ta change t’e kinda flow’r used fer t’at?”  This was enough to catch her attention, evidently, as she looked up with bewildered eyes.  “Ye-es...?”  “Oka’, t’en I’d like ta use Forget Me Nots instead, thank ya.”  “...might I ask-”  “No.”  And with that, the man was sauntering off.  Later that day, he’d crash back into the sofa of his living room with an exasperated sigh before pulling out his phone. Even with the custom design meant to accommodate his unique biology, it was still a hassle to use. Regardless, he pulled up his wife-to-be’s contact information and send her a text--he only hoped she wasn’t busy with anything or too tired to respond.  >>Rohi--I need to ask you somethin.  Afterward, he placed the thing facedown onto the fabric straining against his chest and waited. Thankfully it wasn’t much of a wait. For within the span of a few minutes, the notification blip caught his attention.  >>Yes? What is it? And did you talk with the planner about the flowers?  >>Yeah, I did--that’s actually what I wanted to ask you about. Is it okay that I asked her to change what kind was used on the aisle?  >>Well, what did you change it to?  >>Forget-Me-Nots.  >>Your favorite? They’re really pretty, can I ask why you wanted them?  >>Forget-Me-Nots represent memory, ya ken? Like, if you use em, then it’s like saying you never wanna forget somethin. Mom said she had em next to her when I was born... they were there when she died, too. Our gettin together? Is somethin I never wanna forget, not for a second.  There was no response for several moments.  >>Rohi?  >>Sorry, sorry. That’s so sweet, I love it <3  >>Anythin for you, lov’ <3  Without realizing, Warwick had started smiling like some lovestruck fool--because he was one when it came to Qiyana.  >>I love you so much, Warwick <3  >>Not as much as I love you  >>Nuh uh, I love you more, I have a trophy that says so  >>Well I’ve got four times as big a heart as anyone out there, so I got much more to love with  And it went on like this until the chimera, along with his wifey, passed out.

Frazzled nerves and a stomach full of butterflies were common experiences for women on the day of their joyful nuptials, but Qiyana was anything but a common woman. For her, the day leading up to the ceremony filled her with exponential euphoria and excitement at the thought of being united with her hubby. She’d been smiling the whole time while touching up her visage with a tidbit of makeup. But these feelings were nowhere near as intense as they were now that she was standing in front of a mirror in the dressing room of the building the marriage was taking place in. Something which did not escape the notice of her omele, Sizani, even while preoccupied with helping her grandchild slip into her wedding dress.  At her ripe age, Qiyana's omele was still a beatific woman wielding wisdom and overt authority in equal measures from the dark pools of chocolate amid an ocean of white in her eyes. She was the kind of individual people came to for sage advice yet never understood what was given until the exact moment they’d need it. Her snow-white hair was pulled taut into numerous dreadlocks that curled down past the nape of her neck and rested against her shoulders. Sizani was often seen wearing delicate fabrics colored in differing shades of purple, accentuated by the ornate jewelry commonly found on her person.  Suffice to say, Qiyana owed her beauty to what she inherited from her omele--or so the old woman claimed.  Despite all of her stern demeanor, though, Sizani was more than eager to crack a few jokes and tease her grandchild with her choice of man. It was enough to get Qiyana to crack a smile and giggle alongside her grandmother. She even returned the ribbing in kind as they continued to fit her for her dress--spending time with her omele always put a smile on her face.  Eventually, the dress was fitted snug over Qiyana’s curves.  The outfit boasted a soft palette of pinks and shades of white, as well as the finest silk money could buy. A window exposed her back, framing the veiled skin like a picture one would keep on their nightstand. Strips of transparent material along either fitted sleeve evinced her mocha flesh, each coming to a unified point at a single ring of precious metal around her middle finger. And up from the profuse transparent frills billowing out from the chapel trailing a foot behind her to the decotellage exposing her cleavage, stark embroidery fashioned in the likeness of blooming flowers interwoven with heart-like shapes decorated the fabric. Said decotellage brought attention to the various pieces of jewelry Warwick had bought for her over the years with the centerpiece being a necklace that had half of a heart-shaped locket dangling at the end.  It was as if the Empress of some exotic, far-off kingdom had come to bless the peasantry of a third-world nation with her presence.  Spinning in a circle once, twice and thrice, an ear-to-ear smile worked its way onto Qiyana’s countenance. The same delight was evident on Sizani’s face as she clapped several times. Save for the moment she was signed on by the TD producer, there was no moment in her life that filled Qiyana with as much euphoric joy as the day of her marriage.  “You look perfect~!” Sizani said.  “I know I do, but thank you for reminding me,” Qiyana responded.  As if to further reinforce this fact, there was a series of excited yaps from the third occupant of the room. He normally came up to his mother’s, Qiyana, knee but now was only about mid-shin height with her high heels on. Big ears he’d yet to grow into had only just begun stiffening a few weeks prior, so both were still partially floppy. There was a tiny pink ribbon secured around his neck in place of a collar for the special event. A coat of tawny brown fur with accents of fiery gold covered the body of a wolf puppy that’s barely a month shy of half a year old. This pint-sized bundle of energy and jubilation was Firefang, Qiyana’s most precious baby.  Firefang had been snoozing away atop a fancy downy pillow near where the two women had been fiddling with the dress, and now that they were done, he was up and ready to hoard all of his mommy’s attention.  “Seems like your baby wants to remind you, too.”  She shuffled over and bent over to pinch either of her baby’s cheeks, stretching them out with a grin and giving his head little shakes. Qiyana even scritched behind his ears and placed kisses atop his forehead. This was met by more yapping and a blep of his tongue. He was satisfied with the affection she showered him in.  “Careful, you’ll need to reapply your makeup if he starts giving you kisses.”  “Thank you for the concern, but it’ll be fine-”  There came a knocking at the dressing room’s door, then the voice of Sizani’s husband informing the trio that it was a few minutes until they had to go. So, unfortunately, the hijinx occurring between those within the room had to be concluded.  Sizani approached Qiyana with a soft grin, hands folded over one another against her waist, before reaching out to swaddle her grandchild in either arm. While usually reluctant, the melodica empress leaned into the embrace with a tightness her normal disposition belied. It was the kind of affection she’d never received from her supposed sisters, even her own parents. That was but one reason why she made sure none but her omele and her husband received an invitation to the wedding.  There was fierce yapping from the side, garnering the women’s attention, as Firefang demanded to be included. They smiled and scooped up the canine to be squished between them in the hug. After a moment, once Firefang was balanced atop Sizani’s shoulder, they pulled away and Qiyana finally glimpsed the sheer intensity of pride and exultation burned in the other’s eyes.  “I’m so proud of you,” Sizani whispered.  “I’m so happy you came,” Qiyana breathed.  “I wouldn’t miss my precious granddaughter’s big day even if someone offered me the whole world.”  To witness the sheer joy softening the bride’s face at that moment would’ve been to gaze upon the sun itself as it crested the mountainous horizon with its rose-tipped fingers. For a moment, warm liquid welled up at the corners of her eyes--but being who she was, Qiyana did her best to wipe them away.  Another knock came at the door to serve as a reminder.  “Yes, yes, we heard you the first time, []! Everyone can wait while I congratulate my baby!”  This earned profuse apology on the part of her husband, a confused mmm-ing from Firefang and a hearty chuckle from Qiyana.  The elderly woman huffed a moment, annoyance contorting her visage a moment, before laughing with a sigh and moving Firefang from her shoulder to a more stable grip in either arm and hand.  “No matter what anyone says about you, know that your omele loves you more than anyone--even that lumbering man who’s fallen for you. Okay? You’re the best singer out there, and that man is the luckiest man alive to get to be with you.”  “I know, I know-”  “And if he ever mistreats you!--”  “Omele, please! He’d never do that, but, still... thank you, thank you so much for everything. For always supporting me; for always being there for me. It meant... so, so very, very much.”  An ear-to-ear grin spread across Sizani’s face, “It was always a pleasure to support you...”  Without another word, the two shared yet another tight embrace before parting anew and moving towards the door.  “Shall we?”  “Lets~!”  “YAPYAP!!”  When the door opened, Qiyana was greeted with the jubilant warmth of her omele’s husband and one of her best friend’s smiling faces. They were present for several reasons with the chief among them being to take Firefang off their hands. Each gave the bride their congratulations, sharing a hug and cheek kiss with her while passing off a bouquet of Forget Me Nots and hibiscus, before going off to take their seats with the tiny spitfire in tow. There was a brief moment of struggle when doing so, though, as the puppy was loath to be apart from his mommy. But since it was two people he liked doing so, with the aid of Qiyana’s kisses and reassurances, Firefang was willing to acquiesce.  After they departed, Sizani extended an arm towards her granddaughter and Qiyana took her up on the gesture and interlocked it with her own arm while resting the opposing limb’s hand against her omele’s bicep. Then they began their trek.

Qiyana heard before she saw anything as a delicate piano began its solo serenade of the people invited to the affair. For a moment, there’d been the chatter of those now seated accompanying the piano. But they were very quick to die down to nothing. Then her nose picked up on the duet playing out between the modest fragrance of the hibiscus and the much stronger scent of the Forget Me Not flowers, the latter of which was far more restrained than what it could be had whole Forget Me Nots been used. And once she turned the corner into the open archway leading into the ballroom, she, at last, saw what she’d been anticipating from the moment Warwick got down on one knee.   A trail of Forget Me Not petals led up to where Warwick and the priest stood beneath the marble arch. The former boasted a charcoal black tuxedo, even its custom size left the fabric straining against his bulk, bereft of its sleeves with a maroon red tie secured around his neck. The fur atop his head was slicked back to match the rest of his kempt pelt’s tidied aesthetic. Either of his ears was upright until she appeared, then they angled back slightly as his forehead smoothed while his brow raised up. His eyes, brimming with emotion, widened and his muzzle relaxed, jaw dropped ever so slightly. Framed by the soft palette of reds, yellows and oranges with indigo undertones that would grow increasingly skewed towards violet as the evening marched on into dusk were the people that’d been invited. It was not a large gathering of people by any means as this was a very intimate, private ceremony between those important to the bride and groom, primarily: the members of Qiyana’s family; Yasuo, Akali, Senna and her husband, her best friend and omele’s husband who made sure to keep Firefang from acting too rambunctious atop his seat, the wedding planner, the photographer hired to capture every second of the event, and a seat reserved for someone paramount to the groom.  Who was this individual?  Why it wasn’t a person at all.  Rather, the cushioned seat propped up a single framed picture--the picture it contained was of Warwick’s mother, smiling with her arms wrapped around someone that’d been removed by someone who’d torn the photo.  Sizani tightened her arm around Qiyana’s, getting her to look her way to exchange one final smile before regarding the path ahead of them anew.  In sync with the piano, the two sauntered down the aisle as everyone present turned to watch the scene unfold. Everyone was smiling and quiet, save for Firefang who started yapping upon noticing his mommy. And with every step closer she got to her soon-to-be husband, Qiyana’s heart skipped a beat.  Finally, her and her omele parted with a kiss as she took her place in front of Warwick and Sizani took her seat next to her husband. The look in Warwick’s eyes, as they usually did, told Qiyana everything she needed to hear--just like that, in an instant, every second they couldn’t be together was forgotten, swept away by the deluge of overwhelming joy coursing throughout her psyche. Then the piano came to a waning conclusion as the priest cleared his throat and opened the book he’d been holding against his breast.  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the presence of God, to witness the joining together of Warwick and Qiyana in the holy covenant of marriage. Warwick and Qiyana recognize that marriage is an important part of God’s plan for mankind. Marriage is not just a social occasion with a religious touch thrown in. It is a service of worship from beginning to end, in which vows are made, prayers are offered, and blessings are given.  “Warwick, if it is your intent to marry Qiyana, please respond with “I do.” Warwick, do you take Qiyana to be your wedded wife, to live together in holy matrimony and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for as long as you both shall live?”  “I do.”  “Qiyana Yun Tal, if it is your intent to marry Michael, please respond with “I do.” Qiyana, do you take Michael to be your wedded husband, to live together in holy matrimony, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for as long as you both shall live?”  “I do~”  By now, those in charge of him managed to quiet Firefang down.  “The ceremony of marriage is the first and oldest ceremony in the world. It was celebrated in the beginning of time in the presence of God himself. Marriage is a gift from God, given to comfort the sorrows and magnify life’s joy. Qiyana and Warwick, in all of life, rare is the moment that is filled with more hope, more joy, and more expectation that this sacred moment. By God’s design this moment will never be repeated, but rather be cherished as long as you both shall live.  “A good marriage is created.  “The little things in your life will become the big things. You will never be too old to hold hands, never be too old to say good night or for a gentle kiss. A good marriage is remembering to say “I love you” on a regular basis. It is never going to sleep angry. It is standing together, leaning on each other for strength and support. It is having the capacity to forgive and forget. It is providing an atmosphere in which each of you can grow. It is finding room for the fruits of the spirit; which are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  “It is not only marrying the right partner--it is being the right partner.  “So much preparation has gone into making this moment a special occasion for you two and your guests. These next few minutes are more important than anything else that will happen today. These are the moments that you will look back and remember when you have children, when you have arguments, when you buy your first house together.  “Don’t ever forget the words that you say this day; with God’s help, they will sustain your marriage through all of life’s ups and downs.”  The subtle angling and twitching of the man’s ears were no doubt caused by picking up on people tearing up from the occasion.  “To all those who have joined us to witness this special commitment by Warwick and Qiyana,” he made a broad sweeping gesture out towards the bridal party, “you play an important role in the lives of this couple. Your attendance here shows that you care for them and are supporting this marriage. I would ask that your support of this marriage not end on this day, but that you continue to support the union that they commit to.  “It is often easy for us to undermine the value of the marriage commitment by saying simple things like “you don’t deserve this, you really should think about divorce” or even taking sides in an argument. Guard the words that you say, in jest and in counsel to this couple. Commit today, as friends and family, to uphold this marriage to the best of your ability and never do anything to harm it.”  He turned and regarded Warwick, craning his neck up to do so.  “Warwick, God has given you a unique personality and talents that add to this marriage. When Qiyana was asked why she chose to marry you, she says that you make her laugh, you got along with those most important to her, and above all else, you cherished her like no other. She said that she appreciates that you value her opinions, yet she can trust you to make good decisions for your family. Paul reminds us in Ephesians, that husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the church. At this moment your love for your bride is apparent, I challenge you to grow in that love as you grow old together in life. Put her needs above your own and lead selflessly.” And then he shifted his gaze down to Qiyana.  “Qiyana, as is apparent today, your groom finds you beautiful! When asked why he chose you to be his wife, Michael’s first response was “she saw something in a lumbering beast.” In our conversations together, it became apparent that without you around, Warwick might have stayed forever numb to his surroundings, forever maintaining a cold, stony heart! Warwick values your intelligence and that you are supportive of him as a person and the things that he enjoys doing.”  Then he returned his gaze to between the two of them.  “The two of you have a chance today to start your own family. You complement each other. Where one is weak, the other is strong. When one of you falls, the other can help pick them up. Choose today to keep God as the center of your marriage and there will be nothing that you could encounter that would tear you apart.”  “These vows that you are about to commit are just words, but they cement forever your commitment to one another. Please, join hands and face one another as you recite the vows that’ve kept you up for so many nights crafting, perfecting, for one another.”  They did so without delay, Warwick extending either of his massive mitts to take in Qiyana’s as they met each other’s gaze.  They both started at once, then stopped to chuckle before allowing Qiyana to go first.

 “Before I met you, Warwick, my life was dedicated to my baby, Firefang, and the family I found in Akali, Yasuo, Senna, her husband Lucian and Ekko. I didn’t believe I had the time to fit in something as intimate and precious as what we have now. Never before did I think I’d ever find a man or woman who’d become the entirety of my universe like you have. So no matter what, until the day I breathe my last, I will never listen to the people questioning our relationship, people expecting us to be normal--I will stand by your side, loving you with every fiber of my being.”  Further disproving everyone who decried Warwick as a heartless beast of a man, tears began rolling freely from his eyes as Qiyana recited her painstaking vows. The runnels bled and diffused into the fur of his face. His hands tightened around hers as he cleared his throat to speak.

 “’ve... nev’r been good w’th expressin’ myself through werds, and I of’en prefer showin’ someone ‘ow I feel rather’en tellin’, ya ken? So... what more ken I say t’at I’ve not already shown? So very much, I foun’ out as I thought ‘bout it... Qiyana, when I call ya Rohi, nev’r told ya what it meant--it means, “My soul.” Cause ya ar’ jus’ t’at, yer my soul, my everythin’... I wouldn’ be the man I am now without ya, wouldn’ be doin’ my momma proud without ya--bein’ more ‘n more like my old man... Yer the sun t’at brightens my day ‘n chases the ov’rcast away; yer the muse of my ev’ry song now; yer the woman t’at saw somethin’ a wurth in the body of a monst’r who couldn’ care less if som’un died in front’uv ‘is eyes...  “Yer... everythin’--I cannit even think of a life without ya...”  Now it was the Empress of True Damage’s turn to start shedding tears--something a scarce few people have ever seen. They carved a path down her face, smearing aspects of her makeup and dripping off her chin onto the marble floor.  After a moment of quiet, save for the whining of Firefang at seeing his mommy cry, the priest continued on as he gestured towards the individual standing at the back, near the archway. This person was none other than Ekko as he carried the rings atop their pillow towards the bride and groom.  “Warwick and Qiyana have chosen to present rings to each other as a token of their promise before God and these witnesses. They are a visible sign of an inward bond which unites two hearts in endless love. Warwick and Qiyana, from this day forward, the two of you shall be one.”  Once there, Warwick took the much smaller of the golden bands as he held her left hand.  “Do you Warwick, give this ring to Qiyana, as a token of your love for her?”  “I do.”  “Qiyana, will you wear this ring as evidence of your love for Warwick?”  “I will~” He then slipped the ring onto her index finger.  Then Qiyana took the much larger band.  Because of the groom’s unique situation with his sheer size, a traditional ring couldn’t work comfortably. So a solution was devised revolving around a snapping mechanism that could secure the earring in a hole of his left ear that’d never healed.  “And do you Qiyana, give this ring to Warwick, as a token of your love for him?”  “I do~”  “Warwick, will you wear this ring as evidence of your love for Qiyana?”  “I will.” And so she snapped the ring into place in his ear.  Once his role was finished, Ekko placed the pillow under one arm and stepped to the side.  “Warwick and Qiyana have pledged their love for each other, and have expressed their commitment before God and before this gathering of friends and loved ones. They have given themselves completely to each other and declared it publicly by the giving and receiving of rings. Acting in the authority invested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit--what God has joined together let no man separate.  “Warwick, you may now kiss the bride, as it is with great joy that I present to you, Mr. and Mrs, Yun Tal.”

 And kiss they did.

[friedtalepersona]

The De-virgining

Such a pivotal moment for every young woman, the loss of her virginity. Movies and television programs condition us to believe that this adventure should be shared with someone you love, who knows you and cares for you deeply. You should be giddy about this magical moment. Coy, but brave. I disagreed. Oh, I had a boyfriend. We were together for two years, so he knew me inside and out. Plus, we did enough bump and grind all over my mother’s house to qualify me as something of an expert in body movements and sexual noises. However, when it came to “going all the way,” your girl just couldn’t quite get there. In my mind, there was something dirty, shameful, and slutty, about losing your virginity in high school. I carried the constant fear that my peers would find out and they’d judge me as harshly as I have those who were open about their sexuality.

Our passionate relationship, my high school lover and I, ended when I left for varsity. I was an inexperienced 16 (and a half) year-old tertiary student, almost ripe and ready to get dirty. I suppose he saw the downfall of our relationship long before I did. Varsity guys can be difficult to resist. During that two months holiday between the last high school exams and the first day of registration, the dumb boys we knew blossom into men. Who can resist the unruly hair and struggling beards? Factor in parties, alcohol and kush, and you’re a goner. What really broke us though, in my opinion, was his insecurity. Oh, and the fact that he dumped me for my friend, but that’s a story for another day.

So, there I was, 16 years old, heartbroken and ready to get busy. The socially acceptable thing to do here would have been to wait for someone new who would love me the way it has been written for centuries. I had all the time in the world, so I was told. It’s too bad no one told my hormones. My mother’s sex talk hadn’t helped either. All she said was, “focus on school, you’ll enjoy sex when you’re older.” When I laughed at her choice of words, she retorted with a shrug, “well, sex is fun, you’re supposed to enjoy it.” Sex talk over. You may be happy to know that I did wait, for a whole year. 365 days of ignoring the needs of my flesh.

It was in my second year of university that I made the extremely logical reason to lose my virginity with an acquaintance. You read that correctly. I made a new year’s resolution to lose my v-card because, well, it had to happen sometime, and I preferred sooner rather than later. I also decided that I didn’t want a stranger, nor someone I would share an emotional connection with. I didn’t want to be one of those girls stuck pining over their “first”. No, I wanted someone I knew, but not too well. Someone good looking, but not pompous. With a stroke of good luck, I found him. Talk about speaking into existence!

It was a scorching February day. My best friend and I were sitting on the steps in true Gossip Girl style, munching on Nick Naks and grapes, engaging in one of our favourite activities on campus: people-watching. Then, there he came jogging past on his way to the library, my perfect man. Well, my perfect cherry-popper – let’s refer to him as CP. He stopped abruptly, perfect pink lips pursed, brow furrowed, face drenched in bewilderment. He greeted my best friend, uncertainty laced in his fruity voice. It turned out they had gone to the same high school, but he had somehow missed her the entire previous year. Did I mention he was cute? He was yellow bone, slim build, not too tall, hair cut in a perfect fade, and had the most beautifully shaped head I had ever seen. Back then, I had a serious issue with funny-shaped heads. You’ll be happy to know that I have matured. We were introduced and that was the extent of our conversation. CP and BFF weren’t close, so it was a given that he and I wouldn’t be either. I wish I could say that I was bold and immediately set out to get my claws on him, but all my drooling amounted to nothing more than wishful thinking. At that moment, all I was brave enough to do was mumble to my BFF, “hmm, he’s cute, nice ass.” I may have been a virgin, but I was still a little pervert.

The big event (D-V Day) happened exactly 20 days before my 18th birthday. A group of us, BFF included, had decided to go out to the local pub near the University. You guessed correctly: I was underage and therefore not allowed to enter – beginning a pattern of being bounced out of clubs, but those are stories for another day. After my failed first attempt to get inside, one of my friends came up with the brilliant idea to undergo a little make-over to disguise me. A headwrap, different jacket, and a distraction at the door later, I was in! Yay me!

We found a table and decked it out with 660ml bottles of Smirnoff Storm spirit cooler each, like the broke spenders we were. Clearly, on a mission to get wasted. The vibe was as ratchet as expected, and we were feeling it to the bone. House music blasted off the speakers, drunk students either danced like strippers or made out in the corner like porn stars, a football match played on the large screen, and boisterous conversation rang off everywhere. This was not the kind of place in which you wanted your parents to find you. In short, it was epic!

After a few minutes of downing my drink, not quite drunk enough to embarrass myself on the dance floor yet, a guy I knew came and started talking to me. Ever since that night, I haven’t been able to recall his face, name or from where I knew him. I didn’t even introduce him to my friends, nor did they try to engage him. What mattered was that was officially the first guy to try and pick me up at a bar. Well, a pub. This was to be my first experience of a drunken encounter with a guy, regardless of how uninteresting he was. Honestly, he was downright boring. I remember smiling awkwardly at him as he loitered next to me, creating small talk. Boredom aside, my night was going great.

Sometime later, which felt like minutes, our table was joined by CP and his friends. They weren’t the type to ask for permission to join, especially since they somewhat knew my BFF. No, they just sat down and took over the conversation. I didn’t have the heart to kick my loiterer away, hoping that he would do the sensible thing and leave of his own accord. He was distracting me from drooling over CP, who was seated opposite me. So rude! I kept throwing glances over at him and doing what any girl would do when their crush was around: laugh obnoxiously louder than normal. In a surprising turn of events, smooth as ever, CP came and sat right next to me, kicking one of my friends away to take his vacated seat. He then proceeded to start a private conversation with me, completely cutting off loiter boy. What was a girl to do? Two guys in one night?! I had never had this much attention before. Did I care that I was suddenly paying less attention to my first solicitor? Nope! I was giddy and extra hot from all the attention.

Mr boring finally left and I heard our whole table cheering. Apparently, they had all been watching as CP swooped in to claim me. It was a game, but I didn’t care. I was the prize that had been won by the most eligible bachelor. When the place became extra rowdy, it was decided that it was time for us to relocate back to res and do what people our age did: chill. An intimate party among friends. Another first experience for me. We left the pub and I followed my friends, and my new friends, blindly. It’s amazing how much trust we put in people. Not once did I question what would happen at this “chill” with guys who were practically strangers to most of us.

Our first stop was CP’s room to collect the merchandise. Kush. This was a quick detour and we were in and out of the room in less than 5 minutes. When we got downstairs, though, he pulled me aside and said: “Hey, I forgot my student card, please go back up with me.” In my naivety and general giddiness to be in his presence, I didn’t consider this for the ruse it was. I mean, he needs his student card to gain access later, keeping him company while he got it was the socially acceptable thing to do. We got back to the room and I stood by the door, arms folded and waited for him to do as he said, get his student card. I watched as he began rummaging half-heartedly through his things. Then he said, “You know, I don’t know where I left it. Have a seat while I look for it. Would you like something to drink?” It was only at that moment that it hit me: I was alone, in a room, with my chosen guy, very, very close to a bed. Took me a while, huh?

I proceeded to sit on the bed, suddenly very conscious of all my movements. He sat down next to me and confessed, “I really just wanted to get you here alone.” At that moment, the room temperature skyrocketed. I started to panic because even though I had fantasized about this moment and had consciously decided that it was time to lose my virginity, I did not think that this would actually happen. I planned and drooled but failed to prepare myself for reality. Rather than ride the wave, I got up to leave. This was happening! I mean, he was perfect. Too perfect. He sat there, swagger pouring out of him, giving me a sly smile and puppy eyes, making my heart pound and my vagina clench. He grabbed my hand to stop me from leaving and pulled me down to sit on his lap, meanwhile, all I was thinking was, “Oh my goodness, I’m on a guy’s lap.” My ears were ringing so loudly with the blood rushing to them that I didn’t even hear what he said before the kiss that started everything.

The act itself was, in a word, scary. I felt as though I was going in blindly, so I held on to CP to guide me through. No one experienced ever talks about the real stuff with you – the stuff they don’t cover in Life Orientation classes, the practical stuff and what happens to your body.  For a long time, I had been a silent participant in many conversations between peers about what happens when you lose your virginity. Listening attentively, soaking up everything: the Hollywood movies about how it only lasts two minutes then it’s disappointingly over, the parts about how a guy can tell when he breaks through the hymen, details about a friend of a friend who felt so much pain that they just couldn’t go through with it, stories about how girls can sometimes pinch a guy too much. I prayed that I would not be the girl who pinches. I was afraid of excruciating pain, a few quick minutes of him wiggling inside of me and leaving a battlefield-sized bloodstain on his sheets. At one point, he turned me over to change positions and I scrambled off the bed in a panic because I thought he wanted anal sex. With the little that I knew, I knew I didn’t want that. What did I get? Mild discomfort, a little pleasure and a guy with a lot of stamina.

At first, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. His soothing and seductive touches helped, but I was reeling with nerves. Beyond the pain, my body started to come alive and I felt sensations I had never known before. Bumping and grinding was just scratching the surface. I don’t want to be the girl that complains about a man with stamina, but at some point, I started to get bored. True story. Eventually, I was just ready for him to stop, silently constructing a letter to Hollywood producers about their misinformation. Sex isn’t too short, it’s too long! When we were done, the first thing I did was check his sheets like they do in those stereotypical African movies, minus the fanatical joy when they find out the bride was indeed a virgin. I was mentally preparing myself for the awkwardness of the bloody massacre I would have left on his sheets. Perhaps it was the terrible lighting in that dim dorm room, or perhaps I was still reeling from my first sexual encounter, but, disappointingly, I did not see a thing. I thought my virginity would leave a monumental mark, even if it was blood on a cute acquaintance’s sheets. We headed out to meet up with the rest of our group, him looking very relaxed and talking animatedly, and me trying my best to shrug it off and play it cool for the rest of the night.

I bet you’re wondering if this was the beginning of a romantic love story, where it was meant to be a one-night stand, but we both couldn’t walk away. Better yet, he needed more, like in those cheesy romance novels I enjoy. No, it wasn’t. I got what I wanted that night, and he got laid. There was a brief spell where he proposed our coupling, and I thought, “hmm, maybe I should give it a shot,” but that didn’t happen. I had just been released from the virginity cave and I was ready to play. He moved on and so did I – to many more stories that will keep you entertained. Had I dated him, I probably wouldn’t have this blog right now and what a shame that would’ve been. 😉

[arcticdementor]

Four feminist law professors at Harvard Law School have been telling some alarming truths about the tribunals that have been adjudicating collegiate sex for the past five years. Campus Title IX tribunals are “so unfair as to be truly shocking,” Janet Halley, Jeannie Suk Gersen, Elizabeth Bartholet, and Nancy Gertner proclaimed in a jointly authored document titled “Fairness for All Students.” That document followed up on a previous open letter signed by 28 members of the Harvard Law School faculty in 2014 arguing that the updated sexual assault policy recently installed at Harvard was “inconsistent with some of the most basic principles we teach” and “would do more harm than good.”

I recently profiled Gersen and her colleagues in a piece for the Chronicle of Higher Education recounting their effort to defend the “most basic principles we teach” against a movement that is working tirelessly to subvert them. It is significant that they speak from within that movement—the feminist movement—not just because this gives them a margin of credibility within a discourse that tends to assign standing on the basis of identity, but also because their intimate knowledge of the antecedent and ongoing struggles within feminism helps them to understand the intellectual roots of what is happening, and where those ideas are taking us.

Though the four women find themselves opposed to visible tendencies within the movement, no one can doubt their standing within it. They are important theorists and practitioners who have made crucial contributions to historic feminist reforms. They represent a strain of longstanding internal critique that is native to the movement itself. Collectively, they have a stern message about the present course of the movement: As Halley, writing in the Harvard Law Review about a case in which a loud demand for punishment accompanied indifference to the guilt or innocence of the accused put it, “We have to pull back from this brink.”

…

When I spoke with her in her office in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Gertner acknowledged that activists seeking to combat sexual violence had resorted to extreme measures out of a justifiable sense that they were addressing a harm that had been ongoing for decades without remedy. “Exhorting people had not worked, nothing had worked,” she said.

But she also described with astonishment a training session she had attended in which the concept of “trauma-informed investigation” was taught. “There was one slide that was extraordinary—it said that if there is a story with inconsistent details that seem to shift from one telling to another, that reflects post-traumatic stress disorder, period. I thought, oh my goodness. Well, of course it might. It might also reflect lying! That they would present one side without even considering the other was extraordinary to me.”

…

Whether judicial powers to surveil and punish are suitable instruments for the pursuit of an emancipatory feminist vision has always been a hotly contested debate within feminism itself. What has long been debated in theory has now been released into the world through interventions aimed at changing that world through an embrace of such instruments. “Feminists now walk the halls of power,” Halley notes in the introduction to her co-authored 2014 book, Governance Feminism. The movement has transitioned, in Halley’s term, “from the megaphone to the gavel,” and must, Halley argues, take on an ethic of responsibility and scrutinize the effects of what they have wrought.

Together, these professors’ work on the new campus sex bureaucracy, consisting of law review articles, open letters, manifestoes, and op-eds written both singly and jointly, is an exemplary instance of the project Halley proposed. That work looks closely at the empirical reality of what has been wrought and reaches a conclusion about its implications. Taken as a whole, the work provides a kind of Rosetta stone of the broader social justice movement of which its subject is a part. The work is sober and restrained and presented without drama precisely because the story it tells is so upsetting and implausible to outsiders, and thus prone to accusations of hyperbole. The gravamen of their work is that, whatever their stated or actual intentions, Title IX feminists are working to superannuate the meaning of consent and embed within the criminal law a principle, subversive to the foundation of the law, that the feelings of the accuser determine the course of the law without reference to any other material fact. As Catharine Mackinnon, the progenitor of the school of feminism from which this movement proceeds, once put it, “Politically, I call it rape whenever a woman has sex and feels violated.”

Title IX activists, including those operating within the Office of Civil Rights in the Department of Education—from whence they issued a letter in 2011 threatening to cut off federal funds from universities who did not get tough on sexual assault—have put in place a system in which it is “commonplace to deny accused students access to the complaint, the evidence, the identities of the witnesses, or the investigative report, and to forbid them from questioning complainants or witnesses,” as Gersen described it in The New Yorker magazine. Though administrative law proceedings routinely rely on constructions of due process that fall well short of those pertaining to criminal proceedings where the freedom of the accused is at stake, in practice the totality of measures adopted by a great many colleges made mounting a defense all but impossible.

The system promulgated a definition of sexual misconduct so expansive that it “plausibly covers almost all sex students are having today,” as Gersen wrote in an article in the California Law Review. It required investigators to start by believing accusers (rather than starting from a place of impartial neutrality), instructed them against using a “reasonable person” test to constrain their judgment of whether sexual conduct regarded as unwelcome constitutes harassment or assault, and required them to reach a finding of wrongdoing if they felt confidence that misconduct had occurred greater than 50+1 percent. It housed the function of adjudicating individual cases within the same office tasked with ensuring compliance with federal government mandates demanding stronger enforcement—aligning incentives in ways hostile to the accused.

A system so designed is “overwhelmingly stacked against the accused,” as Gersen and her colleagues wrote in their original petition. “In this very large continuum of unpleasant interactions that can happen, at some point you draw a line and say, ‘These are consensual, these are not consensual,’” Gersen told me. “Lots of people disagree about where to draw the line. But most people would want to draw a line so there is such a thing as consensual sex.”

…

Federal judges have left no ambiguity about whether the conduct of the campus sex crimes bureaucracy is “consistent with the most basic principles we teach.” In nearly 200 cases, students suing their universities for violating their due process rights in campus proceedings have obtained favorable rulings or settled out of court, vindicating what Gersen and her colleagues have maintained from the outset would be an inevitable outcome. And yet when Gersen and her colleagues roused 28 of their peers in opposition to a policy that the courts were sure to repudiate back in 2014, they stood alone in all of American academia.

It’s worth lingering for a moment on this bizarre tableau. Here, we had a group of professors at the most prestigious law school in America making standard critiques of reforms whose ends the professors shared but whose means were marred by deficiencies that any minimally informed person could see, and that experts like themselves were authorized to identify. These deficiencies would in practice produce hundreds of unjust rulings and undermine the legitimacy of the effort at reform itself. Those professors said aloud what few of their colleagues would have disputed in private. Yet they nonetheless found themselves isolated, unable to influence the course of events beyond their own subsection of the university and were accused of being “on the side of rapists,” as Gersen put it. Gersen and her colleagues wrote up their own version of a policy that the Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights found to be compliant with their demands—one that balanced the right of the accused and the accuser in a manner more likely to survive the scrutiny of federal judges—and to actually just be more fair. Harvard University chose to quell their protest by applying this policy to the law school, while retaining the policy that 28 of their law faculty had declared publicly to be in violation of basic principles of law.

…

The story, I will argue in this and subsequent columns, is about the rise and bid for hegemony of a new ideology. This ideology is a successor to liberalism. It brandishes terms that superficially resemble normative liberalism—terms like diversity and inclusion—but in fact seeks to supplant it. This new regime, in which administrative power has been fashioned into a blunt instrument of deterrence, marks off a crucial distinction—between the liberal rule of law, and the punitive system of surveillance rooted in identity politics known as “social justice.”

[happystressedmuffin]

Among the articles I wrote for our school newspaper these past three years, my most successful ones have been on the topic of education / the education system. As a person who has increasingly become disillusioned with the way school’s operate, I have a couple of thoughts. This may end up a little vague and I may go back to explore these ideas in more detail when I have more time.

First things first, my parents used to be teachers back in Belarus, and they often tell me about rules they had and how their schools worked. A lot of my thinking is influenced by them and their stories, in addition to personal experience.

Communication

One thing that American schools as a whole seem to lack is effective communication between teachers. I have seen this again and again, and it’s a shame considering that It’s an issue that can be fixed without bureaucratic measures. Why do teachers still have a difficult time communicating with one another? Countless times, I’ve had teachers schedule tests and quizzes on the same day, leaving students studying for three whole different topics, rather than focusing on carefully understanding one. My dad said when he used to teach, he would talk to the other teachers and they would plan their schedules out in accordance to one another to ensure that the students would not have an overload of work. While I cannot attest that lack of communication is a problem in every single individual American school, I can certainly say that just a couple weeks ago, our IB coordinator walked into our TOK room because our class snapped under pressure and some students were on the verge of tears. When we told her about the mountain of projects and tests, she seemed surprised, and even our TOK teacher decided to move one of her deadlines, because she was previously unaware of the pressure we were under.

Personally, communication between teachers is probably one of the biggest problems in any school system. Teachers should talk with one another and plan their assignments out; if not, at the very least, be ready to change the dates of certain assignments.

Of course, some things cannot be helped -- teachers cannot move standardized test days, and sometimes the speed of the lesson needs to quicken in order to have time to cover all the right material. Of course, that leads to another problem.

Standardized testing // allowing teachers to teach what they want

Standardized testing.  A lot has been said on the topic already. Some countries such as Finland manage to get amazing marks without a lot of standardized tests; other countries get equally impressive marks with a lot of these tests (China). Whether or not standardized testing works depends on different factors, such as how the government operates, how the tests are structured, etc.

For example, the United States is a federalist form of government, meaning that power is shared between the federal and state governments. Largely, education has been a state issue, meaning how schools prepare their children for these tests and even the tests they take differ.

In terms of how the tests are structured, let’s talk about my friend who I will call “V.” V is in higher level classes. V has passed multiple AP tests. V wants to work in the film industry. As we all know, the SAT tests people on math and reading. Now, tell me, what does math and reading have to do with working in the film industry? English is not V’s first language -- he speaks Hindu and Spanish. He is not so bright in math. But if you’d seen the videos he produces, the editing work he does, even the scripts he writes, you could easily tell that this is a bright kid. His SAT score is certainly not bad in the slightest; in fact, it would probably be considered in the upper quartile. Nonetheless, in comparison to most our peers in this particular program (IB), his score seems a little...weak, to say the least. Some colleges rejected him as a result of his testing, which does not reflect the skills he will use later in life. Why should we consider this fair? Obviously, all people should know rudimentary math and reading; however, why should they be judged solely in those two categories?

At the end of the day, the real question we are trying to find is whether or not the state should give more control to the teachers in the classroom. Standardized testing limits what a teacher may teach due to time constraints.

Bad teachers / respect for teachers

And now, let’s bring our focus onto teachers. I have become highly disillusioned with teachers, especially this year. Here are a number of things I have witnessed:

1. A teacher “predicting” what our grade will be on a test and putting it in the grade system as our final grade for the assignment (essentially giving us a grade for something we have not actually done; and she wasn’t kind about it either; I got a C)

2. a teacher claiming we have to learn six chapters in three days and proceeding not to do a single thing to help us learn in class; instead he gave us a pop quiz and told us to read the book (hint: if we can replace you with a plant and have it not influence the class in the slightest, perhaps you need to do some teaching!)

3. A teacher telling us that the highest we can get on an assignment was a 70 and if we wanted something higher, we had to an “optional assignment” 

4. A teacher taking off an entire letter grade because a student wrote the wrong class period on the header.

5. A teacher pausing a student in the middle of a presentation to yell at the student for seeming “too nervous” (how does yelling and humiliation help?)

6. One of my teachers accidentally taught the wrong curriculum for an entire three quarters before finding out that what we were doing was wrong. (I don’t blame the teacher too much -- this was actually a rather complicated situation).

7. A chemistry teacher who sat at her desk eating snacks while she played videos of her teaching, rather than teaching in person.

Now, all of this makes us students want to bang our heads against the wall; especially number 2 and number 6. The same teacher from #2 never read a single one of our essays (problematic, considering this is an AP / IB class) and instead has us peer score every single time. Nobody studies for his class because he curves every assignment so that a student with a D gets an A.

Should students not demand better? One of the issues with teachers, I believe, is that one does not necessarily need a teaching degree to teach; just a degree in the particular subject area. But at the end of the day, knowing a subject does not mean knowing how to teach it. Some people may disagree. Some people may say, a true sign of knowing is being able to teach. But teaching in itself is another art form. It involves communication. It involves a little bit of psychology. It involves knowing how to explain concepts in ways you may not have thought of before (A visual learner may not think to incorporate auditory details, for example). A person may be an awesome biologist, but that same person may not be an excellent communicator (outside of a research paper, that is). A person may be an awesome biologist, but that person may understand little about how an art/literature student may learn concepts. Knowing a subject well does not mean teaching a subject well. To say so insults the very art of teaching.

Another problem when it comes to teachers is a lack of overall respect for the profession. My AP Gov teacher (a really awesome man) was telling us a story about attending his wife’s party with her co-workers.

Someone asked him, “Hey, what do you do for a living?”

He said, “I teach high school government!”

That person frowned. “I’m so sorry!”

“Why are you sorry?” my government teacher asked, confused. “I love my job!”

And that story conveys a giant problem. People in general assume that teaching is a bad job. That we should feel sorry for those who teach. If you look at the amount that teachers get paid, you can tell that the job isn’t as highly valued as it should be. Teachers are entrusted with the entire future. They are tasked with educating future politicians, future surgeons, future historians, future writers, future academics, future working class people who may change living standard for the better. Why should we not pay teachers more? Why should we not make it harder for people to become teachers (increase the required training or make it better) while at the same time paying them more?

Students do not respect teachers too much either. That may be a sentence young people do not like to hear, because we feel cheated in the education system many times. But it’s true that many students do not respect teachers. I am a student; I have seen how the worst of us can behave. My favorite teacher (I’ve had her for all three years now and will have her next year too) talks quite frankly with me, and she always talks about students who put in no work all quarter and then have the audacity to call her and blame her for their grades.

I am quite lazy -- I really am. But I do my work, and I have never had anything below a A in her classes; and the one I’m taking at the moment is an IB class.

However, respect is a two-way-street. To say that students are respected would be a lie. Otherwise, we would be listened to more when it comes to problems that directly affect us.

The ultimate point is -- respect for teachers needs to increase, but we should also cut down on teachers who don’t know how to teach. These solutions seem obvious, but implementing the necessary actions to put them into place certainly isn’t.

Taxes / wealth

A big point to mention -- taxes.  I had any power in this government, I would not have schools be funded by taxes. In order to learn, students should have the resources to do so. How can an underfunded school possibly compete with a suburban, rich school? The education system creates cycles by constantly valuing the rich and punishing the poor.

If you have money, here’s all the things you can do:

-Live in a nice area with well-funded schools

-Buy a tutor for the SAT

-Have enough money to be well-fed; no worries about food

-Buy all kinds of educational programs (rosetta stone, etc)

-Buy more books

-Get invited to go to interesting educational summer camps, and go

-Clubs (basically no clubs are free)

All these things contribute to college applications and success. But what about the student who struggles in math and cannot afford a tutor? What about that student who lives in a poor area and struggles to learn because of underfunded and stressed teachers? What about the student who has to turn down many opportunities simply because that students cannot afford it? What about the student that can’t afford to pay a fee to participate in dance club?

What about those students?

Is it not evident then that those students are put at a disadvantage, and that they never had equality to begin with? Is it not evident that those students will have a harder time getting to a brighter future? 

Here’s some ideas I have seen around that I have not thought too much about, but I do want to look into:

- Religion’s affect on schools (the US has a long history of Protestantism / Evangelicalism; those who structured our schools may have been influenced. It would be interesting to see how religious thought has played into our education system)

-schools shaping students for labor / a career rather than education  / useful life skills

- I would really love to learn about an anarchist’s point of view of the education system. I believe that most anarchists would be pro-education, but they typically are anti-system (anti-authority), right? How would people be educated in an ideal society? (this is mostly curiosity)

[theprincesslibrary]

There are no such things as ghosts

Pairing: Fenris x Female Hawke Rating: General Audiences AO3 link

‘There are no such things as ghosts’, she asserted decidedly, ‘and not even the two of you could sell me that mumbo jumbo.’

The three of them were sitting at their usual spot at The Hanged Man, boozin’ and havin’ a few laughs. There weren’t many patrons left and Merrill had fallen asleep four beers ago, leaving Hawke, Isabela and Varric in a very agitated discussion about the existence of ghosts. The pirate and the dwarf were in agreement, while Hawke refused categorically to admit ghosts were real. Spirits, demonic possession, Revenant: yes. But ghosts? Nope. Ghosts were but a tale invented by exhausted parents to mildly scare children and get them to sleep on moonless nights without scarring them for life with stories of actual evil.

‘So you’re telling me you’re fine with the fade, darkspawn and all the shit we saw in the deep roads but ghost are a no go?’, Varric asked.

‘Yup. I had to draw a line somewhere and ghosts didn’t make the cut.’

‘How do you know they don’t exist?’ The dwarf insisted.

‘Have you ever seen one?’ Hawke shot back.

‘No, but until last week I had never seen a dragon either, let alone killed one.’

‘That’s different. There’s nothing remotely realistic about dead people coming back to haunt the living. Dragons on the other hand, they’re just beasts, beasts I can kill.’

‘So you wouldn’t have an issue spending a whole night alone in a haunted house provided we found you one.’ Isabela challenged.

Hawke shifted her attention back to her favorite pirate and grinned.

‘Provided you found a haunted house – which you won’t cause ghosts aren’t real – sure, bring it on.’

‘Deal.’

A few hours later and considerably drunker, Marian Hawke found herself standing in front of Fenris’ door. It had been Isa’s idea that she spend the night at his place, and she wasn’t sure if she really felt comfortable with it.

‘Why Fenris’ house?’

‘It’s so stereotypically creepy,’ Isabela started while gesturing at the house, ‘I’m pretty sure if there’s ghosts in town they all settled in that place. Besides, the elf won’t be back for a few days so you’ll have the place all to yourself.’

‘Well, you’ll have to share with the ghosts’ Varric added.

‘Haha, very funny. Now go away.’

‘You’re sure?’ The dwarf taunted. ‘You can still admit you’re scared, and we can all go home and call it a night.’

‘I’m perfectly fine thank you. Now will you go? I’m tired and I want to sleep in this ghostless house.’

As if on cue, a half broken blind slammed against the façade of the mansion making Marian jump out of her own skin and reach for her daggers while Varric burst into laughter.

‘You were saying?’ Isabela teased

‘It’s just the stupid wind,’ Hawke shot back. ‘Go away.’

‘Okay okay’ she replied with both arms raised in sign of surrender, ‘sleep well pumpkin.’

As Marian opened the front door she heard the pair laughing and Varric muttering a small ‘She’ll never make it’.

‘I will’ she shouted as she slammed the door with vigor.

Of course she would make it! Hell, she could spend a whole week alone in here. Ghosts weren’t real, she had been at Fenris’ place plenty of times before and she was pretty sure the only things she had to worry about were not being eaten by rats and finding a place to sleep. She was going to win this bet.

Her steps echoed throughout the empty hall as she made her way towards what had once been a beautiful double staircase. The house was dark and a ‘no torch rule’ had been part of the deal, making it difficult for her to see where she was stepping; the pale moon was her only source of light and for once she was happy Fenris never changed the ripped curtains. Carefully, she entered the first guest room and studied her surroundings as best she could, quickly spotting a bed on the left side of the chamber.

‘I’m pretty sure someone died on that bug nest’ she muttered to herself.

If the stale smell was any indication, the room hadn’t been used nor cleaned in years, and she could swear there was questionable residue on the ground. There was always the option of sleeping in Fenris bed – that room at least had to be clean – but she wasn’t sober enough to prevent herself from spending the night sniffing his sheets and didn’t want to admit she was that desperate. Resigned, Hawke climbed on the bed, covered herself with the blanket she had brought and closed her eyes. Silence filled the room and soon her breathing was the only noise she could hear. It felt unnatural and uncomfortable. Her own manor always resonated with Orana’s singing or Sandal’s ‘enchantment!’, and only now did she realize how much they had become a part of her life and how alone she truly felt.

Alone and maybe a bit scared…

Nonsense! She was just drunk and uncomfortable. She wasn’t scared, there was nothing to be scared of! Then why was her heart thumping so loudly? And was that a creak she just heard coming from the first floor? Hawke cursed herself for being so silly. She had let Varric and Isa’s inanity get to her head and now her very inebriated brain was conjuring noises that didn’t exist. Stupid dwarf, stupid pirate and stupid bet! Still, Hawke listened carefully to the sound of the house and tried to reason with her overly imaginative brain. It was an old mansion, and the wood floor, like the rest of the house, had seen better days. Surely such ancient floor would creak every once in a while. That was a rational way of thinking, one that didn’t involve ghosts. There was nothing paranormal going on, just an old house with an old floor.

As the place fell silent again, Hawke willed herself back to sleep and shut her eyes once more. The house wasn’t haunted, and she was the only person in this goddamn mansion. Except now, she could hear footsteps. Ghosts didn’t have footsteps, did they? They were rather silent creatures? Oh maker, now she was starting to question not only the existence of ghosts but whether or not they made noise while they walk.

This was stupid. She was stupid. The only ghosts haunting her were a pirate and a dwarf, trying to win a stupid bet. Well she wasn’t about to be tricked. Silently she slid out of the bed, debated with herself whether to take her daggers and finally decided not to, her friends just wanted to scare her, not to cause her harm. She made her way towards the entrance of the room, opened the door gingerly and waited to see if anyone would barge in. Nothing. The house was still. She then proceeded to investigate further and slowly walked down the dark hallway. As she passed Fenris’ room, the door cracked open and before she could react, a lean shadow jumped out at her. She couldn’t stop herself from shrieking but managed to avoid being caught by her attacker. She cursed herself for not taking her daggers and tried to avoid another offensive but the shadow  moved so quickly she could barely keep up. She was left defending herself more than attacking and was soon backed down into Fen’s chamber. She looked around to find a weapon and spotted a table lamp. If she was about to go down, she would go swinging. Hawke tried to reach for the lamp but before she could do anything she found herself pinned on the ground by the mysterious shadow. She heard a loud thud as her head hit the floor and groaned. Her assailant was preventing her from moving, leaving her helpless and vulnerable to the final blow that was soon to come. Had the situation been less desperate, she would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. This was how the tale of Marian Hawke would end: killed by a shadow in a haunted house. No doubt Varric would write a f*cking book about it.

‘Hawke?’ a familiar voice asked.

Marian opened her eyes and recognition washed over her face as she found herself staring at emerald eyes and a mop of silver hair: the murderous shadow, still pinning her to the ground, was in fact, a very naked Fenris.

‘Fen?’ she asked in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I live here. What are you doing here?’

‘I… You weren’t supposed to be back yet and…’ Marian bit her lips unsure as to how she was supposed to word her answer. ‘Well, we had this conversation about ghosts and Varric and Isa kept insisting they exist and I disagreed so they dared me to spend a night alone in a haunted house.’

‘And you ended up at my house because…?’ he probed.

‘Well you know: spider webs, broken windows, pretty sure there’s a rotten corpse somewhere…’ Fenris raised an eyebrow. ‘It was Isa’s idea.’ She concluded quickly as to get herself off the hook.

‘Ok, I’ll bite. Why were you sneaking in the hall?’

‘I thought… I thought you were a ghost.’

Fenris burst into laughter, the thundering sounds echoing in the empty house and filling the place with warmth. His laugh vibrated thought her chest, making her acutely aware of how close they were and of the heat radiating from his naked skin.

‘It’s not funny.’ She pouted.

‘Pretty sure it is.’ he chuckled softly.

She knew he was right but she was too ashamed to admit it. Instead she looked at him insistently, hoping he’d let her go but he wouldn’t move.

‘Would you let go of me now?’ She finally asked.

‘Why would I do that.’

‘You’re naked.’

‘Yes,’ he replied with a wolfish grin. ‘Sadly you’re not’

‘I suppose that can be arranged.’

A few days earlier

‘My dear Rivaini, did you know Broody sleeps in the nude?’

‘Why do I have a feeling this is about more than Fenris’ sleeping habits?’

‘I’m glad you ask. See, I have a plan to help Hawke and Broody finally get it on. We just need to…’

[laprincesseecarlate]

There are no such things as ghosts

Pairing: Fenris/Female Hawke Rating: General Audiences Prompts: Day 3 of @dahalloween events AO3 link

‘There are no such things as ghosts’, she asserted decidedly, ‘and not even the two of you could sell me that mumbo jumbo.’

The three of them were sitting at their usual spot at The Hanged Man, boozin’ and havin’ a few laughs. There weren’t many patrons left and Merrill had fallen asleep four beers ago, leaving Hawke, Isabela and Varric in a very agitated discussion about the existence of ghosts. The pirate and the dwarf were in agreement, while Hawke refused categorically to admit ghosts were real. Spirits, demonic possession, Revenant: yes. But ghosts? Nope. Ghosts were but a tale invented by exhausted parents to mildly scare children and get them to sleep on moonless nights without scarring them for life with stories of actual evil.

‘So you’re telling me you’re fine with the fade, darkspawn and all the shit we saw in the deep roads but ghost are a no go?’, Varric asked.

‘Yup. I had to draw a line somewhere and ghosts didn’t make the cut.’

‘How do you know they don’t exist?’ The dwarf insisted.

‘Have you ever seen one?’ Hawke shot back.

‘No, but until last week I had never seen a dragon either, let alone killed one.’

‘That’s different. There’s nothing remotely realistic about dead people coming back to haunt the living. Dragons on the other hand, they’re just beasts, beasts I can kill.’

‘So you wouldn’t have an issue spending a whole night alone in a haunted house provided we found you one.’ Isabela challenged.

Hawke shifted her attention back to her favorite pirate and grinned. ‘Provided you found a haunted house – which you won’t cause ghosts aren’t real – sure, bring it on.’

‘Deal.’

A few hours later and considerably drunker, Marian Hawke found herself standing in front of Fenris’ door. It had been Isa’s idea that she spend the night at his place, and she wasn’t sure if she really felt comfortable with it.

‘Why Fenris’ house?’

‘It’s so stereotypically creepy,’ Isabela started while gesturing at the house, ‘I’m pretty sure if there’s ghosts in town they all settled in that place. Besides, the elf won’t be back for a few days so you’ll have the place all to yourself.’

‘Well, you’ll have to share with the ghosts’ Varric added.

‘Haha, very funny. Now go away.’

‘You’re sure?’ The dwarf taunted. ‘You can still admit you’re scared, and we can all go home and call it a night.’

‘I’m perfectly fine thank you. Now will you go? I’m tired and I want to sleep in this ghostless house.’ As if on cue, a half broken blind slammed against the façade of the mansion making Marian jump out of her own skin and reach for her daggers while Varric burst into laughter. ‘You were saying?’ Isabela teased

‘It’s just the stupid wind,’ Hawke shot back. ‘Go away.’

‘Okay okay’ she replied with both arms raised in sign of surrender, ‘sleep well pumpkin.’

As Marian opened the front door she heard the pair laughing and Varric muttering a small ‘She’ll never make it’. ‘I will’ she shouted as she slammed the door with vigor. Of course she would make it! Hell, she could spend a whole week alone in here. Ghosts weren’t real, she had been at Fenris’ place plenty of times before and she was pretty sure the only things she had to worry about were not being eaten by rats and finding a place to sleep. She was going to win this bet. Her steps echoed throughout the empty hall as she made her way towards what had once been a beautiful double staircase. The house was dark and a ‘no torch rule’ had been part of the deal, making it difficult for her to see where she was stepping; the pale moon was her only source of light and for once she was happy Fenris never changed the ripped curtains. Carefully, she entered the first guest room and studied her surroundings as best she could, quickly spotting a bed on the left side of the chamber. ‘I’m pretty sure someone died on that bug nest’ she muttered to herself. If the stale smell was any indication, the room hadn’t been used nor cleaned in years, and she could swear there was questionable residue on the ground. There was always the option of sleeping in Fenris bed – that room at least had to be clean – but she wasn’t sober enough to prevent herself from spending the night sniffing his sheets and didn’t want to admit she was that desperate. Resigned, Hawke climbed on the bed, covered herself with the blanket she had brought and closed her eyes. Silence filled the room and soon her breathing was the only noise she could hear. It felt unnatural and uncomfortable. Her own manor always resonated with Orana’s singing or Sandal’s ‘enchantment!’, and only now did she realize how much they had become a part of her life and how alone she truly felt. Alone and maybe a bit scared… Nonsense! She was just drunk and uncomfortable. She wasn’t scared, there was nothing to be scared of! Then why was her heart thumping so loudly? And was that a creak she just heard coming from the first floor? Hawke cursed herself for being so silly. She had let Varric and Isa’s inanity get to her head and now her very inebriated brain was conjuring noises that didn’t exist. Stupid dwarf, stupid pirate and stupid bet! Still, Hawke listened carefully to the sound of the house and tried to reason with her overly imaginative brain. It was an old mansion, and the wood floor, like the rest of the house, had seen better days. Surely such ancient floor would creak every once in a while. That was a rational way of thinking, one that didn’t involve ghosts. There was nothing paranormal going on, just an old house with an old floor. As the place fell silent again, Hawke willed herself back to sleep and shut her eyes once more. The house wasn’t haunted, and she was the only person in this goddamn mansion. Except now, she could hear footsteps. Ghosts didn’t have footsteps, did they? They were rather silent creatures? Oh maker, now she was starting to question not only the existence of ghosts but whether or not they made noise while they walk. This was stupid. She was stupid. The only ghosts haunting her were a pirate and a dwarf, trying to win a stupid bet. Well she wasn’t about to be tricked. Silently she slid out of the bed, debated with herself whether to take her daggers and finally decided not to, her friends just wanted to scare her, not to cause her harm. She made her way towards the entrance of the room, opened the door gingerly and waited to see if anyone would barge in. Nothing. The house was still. She then proceeded to investigate further and slowly walked down the dark hallway. As she passed Fenris’ room, the door cracked open and before she could react, a lean shadow jumped out at her. She couldn’t stop herself from shrieking but managed to avoid being caught by her attacker. She cursed herself for not taking her daggers and tried to avoid another offensive but the shadow was so quickly she could barely keep up. She was left defending herself more than attacking and was soon backed down into Fen’s chamber. She looked around to find a weapon and spotted a table lamp. If she was about to go down, she would go swinging. Hawke tried to reach for the lamp but before she could do anything she found herself pinned on the ground by the mysterious shadow. She heard a loud thud as her head hit the floor and groaned. Her assailant was preventing her from moving, leaving her helpless and vulnerable to the final blow that was soon to come. Had the situation been less desperate, she would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. This was how the tale of Marian Hawke would end: killed by a shadow in a haunted house. No doubt Varric would write a fucking book about it. ‘Hawke?’ a familiar voice asked. Marian opened her eyes and recognition washed over her face as she found herself staring at emerald eyes and a mop of silver hair: the murderous shadow, still pinning her to the ground, was in fact, a very naked Fenris. ‘Fen?’ she asked in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I live here. What are you doing here?’

‘I… You weren’t supposed to be back yet and…’ Marian bit her lips unsure as to how she was supposed to word her answer. ‘Well, we had this conversation about ghosts and Varric and Isa kept insisting they exist and I disagreed so they dared me to spend a night alone in a haunted house.’

‘And you ended up at my house because…?’ he probed.

‘Well you know: spider webs, broken windows, pretty sure there’s a rotten corpse somewhere…’ Fenris raised an eyebrow. ‘It was Isa’s idea.’ She concluded quickly as to get herself off the hook.

‘Ok, I��ll bite. Why were you sneaking in the hall?’

‘I thought… I thought you were a ghost.’ Fenris burst into laughter, the thundering sounds echoing in the empty house and filling the place with warmth. His laugh vibrated thought her chest, making her acutely aware of how close they were and of the heat radiating from his naked skin. ‘It’s not funny.’ She pouted.

‘Pretty sure it is.’ he chuckled softly. She knew he was right but she was too ashamed to admit it. Instead she looked at him insistently, hoping he’d let her go but he wouldn’t move. ‘Would you let go of me now?’ She finally asked.

‘Why would I do that.’

‘You’re naked.’

‘Yes,’ he replied with a wolfish grin. ‘Sadly you’re not’

‘I suppose that can be arranged.’

A few days earlier

‘My dear Rivaini, did you know Broody sleeps in the nude?’

‘Why do I have a feeling this is about more than Fenris’ sleeping habits?’

‘I’m glad you ask. See, I have a plan to help Hawke and Broody finally get it on. We just need to…’

[samwritesstories-blog]

2052

2051 was a year of stagnation. Ever-present in the air of 2051 was the stale promise of change and growth that had lingered on politicians’ lips before slipping off into the inert atmosphere: only to float foolishly in front of all of us who had fought for the progression of this decrepit earth. Everywhere I turned in 2051, I was taunted by that floating broken promise.

2052, though, will be a year of growth. If not by their hands, then by mine.

In the bright light of the incoming day, I laid quietly on my back as the warm earth embraced me with her body. The sun-heated ground felt alive and humble beneath my form, silently easing my thoughts. The simplicity of her warm presence comforted me as January First washed over the room. If change would arrive in the coming days, it needed to be for her, so that she could grow and inspire once again. The atrocities committed against her were so great that I could hardly remember what she looked and felt like before pollution had infested her pores, leaving her crippled and parched. But there were still fragments of my memories left that I could piece together into something like a craving or a desire within me—a desire to restore the Earth to her former glory.

Like the dry soil beneath my body, I had an overwhelming thirst. But unlike the soil, I was not incapacitated by immobility. I had the power and the will to alter the current human outlook, and to alter the state of the planet. I think, therefore I am. I do, therefore I matter. I have been immobile for far too long.

I took a breath, inhaled the processed air. The hum of the air filter joined my thoughts, echoing in my brain as I willed my body to rise.

“It is in your best interest to stand up,” my mind told my body over the incessant hum. My body disagreed. The two of them had never gotten along. But dehydration was creeping its way down the back of my throat, and even my body knew it needed its daily dose of hydro.

Walking to the bathroom, I allowed myself a cynical chuckle at the thought that every home in The State still had such a name for this spacewhen, in fact, baths had not existed for at least a decade. They had decayed with other relics of the past such as fresh air and hope. The present existed as a time of air filters and dread.

And hydro. Always hydro. Lifeless hydro.

I gazed at my counter-top, filled with meticulously stacked vials of translucent liquid, each one labeled with a date and topped with a little green piece of plastic. I picked up the one labeled “01.01.2052,” spun it in my hand for a second, let the cloudy substance inside twist about. I imagined it becoming as dizzy as I myself felt holding this stufffor the thousandth time. It twirled around, trying to catch the sun like water used to, trying to reflect the sun’s rays into tiny droplets of light in the way that beads of water once had. But it couldn’t. It just spun.

Then my mind remindedmy body about the foul dehydrationin my throat, my body let out a dry cough, and I opened the medicine cabinet to reveal a syringe, waiting patiently to be filled, readied the night before. Gripping it tightly with practiced disdain, I removed the green plastic from the vial and inserted the syringe, drawing out today’s worth of hydro with perfected precision.

Once it had been injected into my bloodstream,I felt the cooling hydration snake its way through my veins, awakening my limbs, my chest, my throat. But it didn’t hydrate my soul. Water had done that.Water had washed over my fears and worries; quenched my anxiety. Hydro left me with an inexplicable emptiness, as if my entire self could not come to terms with its false sense of normalcy and its chemical nature. This was the picture of 2052: inorganic, robotic; keeping us alive, but just for the sake of living. Everything worked to keep our bodies ticking, but not our souls, not our minds. As though our vitality was associated only with our fleshy exteriors and what they could accomplish for The State. The world was sick, its people were suffering, and no one even knew but me. But that was more than I could think about at the present, as I was running three minutes behind schedule and needed to get to work at the factory.

* * * * * * *

“We’re in for it today. I can feel it. I tell you, today’s not going to be like yesterday.”

“Today’s never like yesterday, Raquel. That’s the beauty of a new day, it’s always changing.”

“Today’s different, though. I’ve got this feeling in my gut, the world’s got a surprise for us.”

“Tick off, folk. You’re freaking me out.”

“Just trying to warn you. Maybe it’ll be something good, you know? A real clean surprise.”

I tried my hardest not to eavesdrop on two of my coworkers as we stood in line to scan our fingerprints, clock in, and begin the day’s work at the hydro factory. But I couldn’t help feeling like Raquel was right. Her head was held high as she spoke her prophecy, entirely certain of its truth, unshaken by her friend’s disbelief. The words were real to her as soon as they slipped from her lips, and that sort of certainty was not lost on me. I was moved by it, even if her friend was not.

I never did catch her name, Raquel’s friend. A year working together at this factory, and I still only knew her as the Woman with the Long Braid, a perfect braid of dark hair cascading down her back every day. I suppose from then on I would know her as the Woman with the Long Braid Who Didn’t Think the World Could Surprise Us Today.

“Well, if that’s true, there’s nothing we can do about it,” the woman said, with an air of disbelief. “We still have to work just the same.” Ah, what a philosophical stance! How stoic she must be in all of her actions. Moving with nature, never missing a beat. I imagined that she was not careful or calculating, not paranoid or obsessed with outcomes. She simply took the world as it came and proceeded accordingly. Each situation was only as negative as her attitude towards it, only as positive as she willed it to be. If there was indeed a surprise in our collective future, the Woman with the Long Braid would reason through it, dispel the negative; continue with the natural rhythm of her life.

Of course, I did not really know the Woman with the Long Braid, nor did I ever exchange words with her, but it seemed the sort of thing she would do. To “go with the flow,” as they say. To “work just the same.”

To Raquel’s credit, the day did seem to hold a strange energy. The sun burned hotter on our backs than it had since November, dousing us and the pavement in a warm January glow. It stung our skin, but willed us more than ever to quickly clock in to work and begin our shifts within the protected walls of the hydro factory, safe from the unending heat.

As the sun began to heat our backs with heightened intensity, the line jutted forward with a sudden increase in velocity, and I found myself at the clock-in station a few minutes earlier than anticipated. This shook me for a second, as I could not remember the last time I had arrived to work before 8:56. For the past 379 days, I would clock in between precisely 8:56 and 8:59 a.m., to ensure that I would have virtually no time between arriving at work and actually beginning my shift. Minimize downtime at the factory, maximize efficiency. Besides, I didn’t want to spend any more time at this place than I was paid to.

But just then I found myself facing the clock-in station at 8:52, frozen for a second as I adjusted myself to the change. Rewired my brain, set my internal clock back four minutes. The sun hastened me: “hurry up, Andrew, relieve yourself of my stinging heat,” it whispered to me with its rays.

“Hurry up, Andrew. Come on, folk,” came a voice from behind me.

I pressed my thumb to the scanning pad, allowing the flash of red light to assess my identity, validate my existence. “Andrew Aedus, 17924,” the robotic voice issued forth, ushering me forward.I gave myself a mental kick as I realized that I could have caught the name of the Woman with the Long Braid if I had only taken a moment away from my thoughts to listen to the announcement of the scanner. But that was in the past, and her braid was already disappearing behind the factory doors. There’s no reason to dwell on past mistakes other than to prevent future shortcomings, so I quickly followed suit, disappearing from the outside world for the next nine hours. I wondered if the sun would miss me.

As soon as I entered the factory doors, I knew something was wrong. The heat had followed us inside, the air filters unable to keep up with the demands of the strangely sweltering January morning. Technicians were hard at work with various tools, evidently attempting to combat the situation. The atmosphere inside was almost as sticky as it was beyond the walls, and the voices of both the technicians and my fellow ground workers carried the heavy tone of annoyance.

“You’d think with what little they pay us, they could use the savings to keep this damn place cool,” a worker to my left complained.

“I just hope none of the machines get overheated again,” another worker added. “Last time that happened, my shifts got cut for a week. And there’s no telling if my landlord’ll be as nice about late rent the second time around.” A wave of empathy washed over me and I found myself desperately hoping the same.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackled, and the room was hushed as if by an omnipotent force. “It is now 8:55 a.m. The day will proceed as scheduled in 5 minutes. We apologize for any inconvenience the current temperature may cause, but assure that it will not directly contribute to any changes in workflow. Daily quota remains unaltered. Thank you.” Then it crackled again, emitted a short click, and fell silent.I wondered if similar announcements were made every day at 8:55, but as I had no way of knowing apart from inquiring with my coworkers, I put the matter aside and stored it for another time.

I replaced it with this one: the daily quota never changes. Without that quota, there wouldn’t be enough hydro for every citizen; it was slightly preposterous to even suggest that it would ever be lowered. The whole city would be dehydrated by next week.

* * * * * * *

I was filling a vial with "fresh" hydro when the siren began to wail. It came in short, overwhelming bursts, mimicking the way that the cloudy liquid poured out of the long, slender tube and into the little vial. Drip drip drip, went the hydro. WRAH WRAH WRAH, went the siren. At first, I continued to hold the “dispense” button down, unnerved by the sudden noise. But then I felt it: the overwhelming heat and the scent of smoke.

“Fire!” someone yelled. “Fire in B block!” My finger slipped, my heart sank, the flow of hydro came to a halt. For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I had to rewire my brain again, allow myself to adjust to the news. But this time I couldn’t just reset my internal clock, I had to reset my entire disposition towards the events of the day. I imagined Raquel reacting with less astonishment—this was the surprise she had anticipated, although it was not so clean like she had hoped. The Woman with the Long Braid was probably already reacting, her body and mind adjusted to the natural, albeit disastrous, flow of the day.

My first reaction was to jump up out of my seat, join the flow of workers sprinting to the exit. But B block could need help, could need my help. I halted. “Keep going!” someone screamed, and a forceful shove to my back returned me to the path towards the door. “There’s no time to stop, it could spread to C block!” The large yellow “C” emblazoned on my worksuit was all the reminder I needed that all our lives, if the fire did indeed spread, could be in danger. But what if it could be stopped in its tracks? What if someone in C block could force the fire down?

My coworker was right, though. There was no time to stop. The flow of workers towards the door could not be hindered by a single person’s attempt to turn around and play the hero.

And so we all ran. With heat and smoke at our backs, with what we could only assume was destruction behind us, with the wail of the siren in our ears, we raced to the exit. Sweat ran down my forehead, stinging my right eye and forcing me to hold it shut. The air around us felt like a furnace, so that as we ran, I couldn’t help feeling as though this factory was some sort of torture chamber. My feet pounded on the hot ground, my breath came in short, fast bursts as I attempted to inhale enough oxygen to get me to the door. Just a few more yards away.

A worker to my left was trying to sprint through the crowd, and in his haste he shoved a woman and elbowed his way in front of her. She toppled into me, causing me to lose my footing and crash to the ground. The ground felt hot beneath my hands and I struggled to regain my place in the flow of runners. As I stood, I saw the woman who had been pushed into me lying on the ground with her hands laced behind her head. I could feel her fear racing with my own heartbeat, and I felt I could not leave her there to be crushed by the stampeding masses.

I reached down to grab her by the torso, heaving her up with all my strength. Workers smashed into my shoulders and back as I lifted her to her feet. I could feel the woman’s heartbeat, rapidly firing like a machine pistol beneath her flesh. Her face matched the ferocity of her heart: her eyes wide and unblinking, sweat and tears emblazoned around them. She turned to me for only a fraction of a second before she screamed, “let me go!” I released her to the crowd, and she disappeared into the flow of humans racing towards the exit. No time to ponder. Smoke was rapidly filling C block.

I took a step, felt the pressure of a body against my own, fell once again to the ground. And then, darkness.

* * * * * * *

When my eyes finally opened, all I could see was smoke. It was entangled in the air, fighting its way into my lungs. I could taste it on the back of my tongue. There was a pounding in my head, and my body ached. I knew that I had to stand up, had to once again attempt to get to the exit and escape this furnace, but my mind could not will my body to move.

There was a sudden crash behind me, and I turned in time to watch several pieces of the ceiling come crashing down only a few feet away from me. But that was not the most frightening part of my vision—the entire room was not only filled with smoke, but was consumed by the B block fire. Its flaming fingers were reaching outto grab hold of everything in the near vicinity. And situated amongst the flames was the outline of a person. Their body was slumped over like they had been tossed aside, thrown to the floor and discarded. I stood slowly, my bones and muscles crying out as I did so. With an ache in each step, I managed to drag myself to where their body lay. It was wrapped ina navy blue worksuit with a large yellow B on it. And resting atop the yellow B, partially singed, was a long braid of dark hair.

My heart dropped. She must have escaped the flames in B block and come running in here, only to find herself trapped within a second fiery furnace. How vicious fate could often be.

I stared at the Woman with the Long Braid for what felt like quite a long time, trying to decide what to do. I squeezed my hands together as if somehow the answer could be wrung out of my sweating palms. I knew I had to do something for her, that I couldn’t leave her to be crushed by the decaying factory or consumed by the fire.

But what could I do? As I stared at the woman, the building continued to collapse around us and the fire continued to blaze. The exit that we were all so desperate to get to was now host to a flaming pile of debris, maliciously blocking our escape. I could attempt to plow through it, could “throw caution to the wind” as they used to say when breezes blew sweetly through the atmosphere. But she would not survive it, could not survive it, assuming that she was still alive as I pondered our course of action.

Assuming that she was still alive! How stupid I had been. In all the time that I had spent staring at the woman, I had never checked for her breath or pulse. I immediately bent down, carefully turned her head to test for exhalation.

I gasped, fell backwards, let out a cry of pain and shock as my back hit the ground once more. I had expected to see the woman’s dark skin and full lips, to put my hand under her nose or in front of her mouth to assess the flow of oxygen in her body. But there was barely any skin on her face. What was left was black and charred, a grotesque disfiguration of her former self.

Just like that, I knew that we were both in the midst of our final moments. There was no clear escape route anymore, no path to the outside.

So that was how we would end, surrounded by flames in the place that produced my most-hated symbol of this decaying world. And I could do nothing to stop both the Earth and the factory from falling apart.

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

the problem is that it's like female characters are not allowed to make mistakes without getting shunned and hated on. they're automatically unforgivable and a bitch and ppl completely disregard everything else, in this case nancy was more focused on bringing the fucking government down and was determined and dedicated and did that™ but no she hurt steve and now bc he's everyone's fave and he can do no wrong she is the bad guy

See, I completely disagree with this. Maybe we just operate in different spheres of the fandom, but I rarely if ever see hate against female characters (probably because I’m following all the right people and I avoid anti tags like the plague) and if anything all I ever see are posts like this ask that demand for female characters to be liberated, appreciated and allowed to make mistakes without being shunned or hated on. So I’ve never been able to understand where those kind of posts about hate against female characters come from because personally, I never see it. Off the top of my head the only female characters I can recall getting unnecessary hate in the fandoms I’m part of are Emma Swan, Elena Gilbert and Lori Grimes. Besides that all I ever see is love and appreciation for female characters. I’m not saying that there aren’t people out there that hate on female characters, because obviously there are, but I think it gets generalised and turned into a stereotype that people hate unnecessarily on female characters when it’s simply not true. People are allowed to have negative views on female characters just as they are with male characters and I don’t see it as being an issue whereby only female characters get treated this way. Just as many male characters are disliked in fandoms and ridiculed for their actions as female characters. Using Nancy and Steve as an example, I see just as many people advocating for Nancy as Steve so it’s not like everyone is unnecessarily hating on Nancy and painting her as the bad guy. 

Warning: under the cut is slightly anti-Nancy and anti-Jancy 

The thing is with Nancy/Steve is that it’s become a Nancy vs Steve type situation (which are always the worst situations in fandom because they spark ridiculous wars and arguments) and anyone that takes Steve’s side is automatically perceived to be a fangirl that only likes Steve because he’s cute and funny etc. and that they hate Nancy. But one again, that’s just a stereotype. I don’t think Nancy is “the bad guy” at all and nor do I completely disregard everything else that happened or hate her. But the truth remains that Nancy did wrong in season 2, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with pointing that out and discussing it. Nancy is a young girl living a complicated life and it’s understandable that she’s gonna make mistakes (tbh, if she didn’t make mistakes I’d have no respect for her as a character because that’s simply unrealistic of any human, but particularly a young teenage girl). The problem is that on moral level what Nancy did was wrong and I’m not saying that makes her an irredeemable person that can never be forgiven, but I don’t like the way it was portrayed on the show. There was no acknowledgement from her or indeed anyone that she was behaving unfairly. And it’s not just because she hurt Steve, because if she’d treated anyone that way I’d feel the same way because it was wrong. She knew she didn’t wanna be with Steve but she stayed with him anyway, why? She could’ve just stayed single, she didn’t have to remain in a relationship with him and pretend they were happy when deep down she wasn’t. And then the whole scene where she was drunk and saying, “Bullshit” is one of the worst scenes I’ve seen in terms of how Nancy came across and I understand she was drunk and emotional about Barb, but she didn’t have to do that. From Steve’s POV he’d been in a relationship with Nancy for a long time (I’m not sure how long exactly, but it spanned over a period of months), he loved her and he thought they were happy. For Nancy to get drunk and basically shoot Steve down in that way and break his heart was terrible and the worst way she could’ve done it. She didn’t even give him any explanation she just kept saying the word “Bullshit” over and over and over again. Steve didn’t even really know what was going on and when he asked, “You don’t love me?” she still had the audacity to reply, “Bullshit.” It was rude, disrespectful and completely unfair to the boy that was her friend and boyfriend for months and even if she didn’t love him or have romantic feelings for him, she should’ve had enough compassion and respect to let him down in the right way. 

It would have been so easy to have Nancy make up for that mistake but the writers chose to make it even worse. The next day she didn’t even remember what had happened, she didn’t bother to apologise to Steve and there wasn’t even an ounce of care in her towards Steve. She just didn’t seem to give a shit that her actions had hurt him and that isn’t right. I don’t care how much is going on in her life, if that was me I’d feel so shitty and hurt that I’d hurt someone I cared about that I’d have to do everything I could to make it right. So Steve was left wondering where the hell he stood and what was going on because she’d said that when she was drunk but then the next day acted like everything was normal and didn’t even give him an explanation. Just imagine how you’d feel if the person you loved did that to you. I’m sorry, but it’s unacceptable. 

And to make matters worse Nancy hadn’t even spoken to Steve properly about their relationship and what they were doing moving forward, she didn’t even openly tell him she didn’t want to be with him or express that she had feelings for Jonathan (even if these things were obvious, its common courtesy and respect to tell your goddamn partner where you’re at) and proceeded to sleep with Jonathan behind his back. In my eyes, that’s cheating. When did Nancy explicity tell Steve their relationship was over? When did they sit down and talk about what she’d said and what it meant? They didn’t. To me a relationship is still a relationship until one or both of the people involved state that it has ended. 

To top it all off, Nancy and Jonathan sleeping together was portrayed as something we were supposed to be happy about and excited for (like, hello, did D&D not realise how disgustingly immoral the whole thing was?) and afterwards Steve was the one that felt guilty and labelled himself “a shitty boyfriend” because Nancy made him feel that it was his fault. But guess what? It wasn’t his fault. Steve had done nothing wrong to warrant Nancy not loving him or wanting to be with him, she just simply had feelings for Jonathan instead. That wasn’t anyone’s fault and it wasn’t wrong for Nancy to have feelings for Jonathan, what was wrong is the way in which she handled it. She messed up and she didn’t even try to fix it, and that’s my issue with Nancy or should I say, the way in which Nancy was written (because I do place the blame at D&D’s door for this). 

I just think the writing was poor in season 2 where Nancy/Jonathan were concerned and that bled into the situation with Nancy and Steve too. There’s nothing wrong with a character - any character - making mistakes. It’s a good thing, it’s what helps them grow and develop, but the problem I have is when it’s a character that’s supposed to be good and decent and there’s no acknowledgment of those mistakes or any evidence that they’re going to make up for what they’ve done and that’s what happened with Nancy. I’m not saying she’s a bad person because obviously she’s not but it’s kind of hard to root for and care about a person that could hurt someone else in the way she hurt Steve and then not even show an ounce of compassion, remorse or regret. 

[impactng]

Democrat defects to Republican Party over opposition to impeachment

Impeached President Donald Trump said a Democratic Party lawmaker, Jeff Van Drew of New Jersey would soon become a member of the Republican Party. President Trump said this during a White House meeting with the lawmaker, a party switch that had been expected since last weekend. Trump introduced Van Drew in an Oval Office meeting that also included Vice President Mike Pence and House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy of California. “Jeff will be joining the Republican Party,” Trump said. “It’s a very exciting announcement.” Van Drew said he has always been a moderate, and blasted unnamed Democrats for moving the party too far left. “I believe that this is just a better fit for me,” he said. “This is who I am.” Van Drew rattled off a string of issues he said pushed the party away from him, criticizing the Green New Deal proposal and accusing some Democrats of downplaying America’s exceptionalism. He praised Trump’s record on the economy and pledged loyalty to his new party. “You have my undying support, always,” Van Drew said. Trump responded, saying: “I’m endorsing him.” The announcement ended days of political uncertainty for Van Drew, after the revelation last Saturday that he planned to switch parties. He joins a rare group of defectors in recent years. Former Alabama representative Parker Griffith, a longtime Democrat, became a Republican in 2009, only to lose in a GOP primary next year. That same election cycle, Pennsylvania Republican senator Arlen Specter bolted to the Democrats before losing the 2010 primary to Joe Sestak. Pence added Thursday that “another public official from New Jersey” will be following the South Jersey congressman’s lead. He did not give any details. Van Drew’s vocal opposition to impeachment enraged Democratic leaders and activists, and prompted plans for him to switch parties. He voted against both articles of impeachment late Wednesday, disagreeing with the vast majority of his Democratic colleagues, who maintained that Trump abused his power and obstructed Congress. During the daylong impeachment debate Wednesday, Van Drew sat with Republicans on the House floor, shaking hands with GOP lawmakers and congratulating their leaders after their strident defenses of Trump. On December 11, Van Drew learned from an internal poll just how much his stance on impeachment imperiled his chances to win a Democratic primary. He proceeded to cut off contact with key allies, and two days later was at the White House to discuss plans to become a Republican. Van Drew may have hoped defecting to the GOP would ease his path to reelection in a conservative-leaning district. But local Republicans have hardly been welcoming, questioning Mr Van Drew’s mostly liberal voting record and relationship with the state’s Democratic machine as troubling. “He will have to prove he is with us on more than just the issue of impeachment,” Jacci Vigilante, chair of the Gloucester County GOP, said recently. All three Republican candidates who were running for his seat will stay in the race, for the moment undeterred by Trump’s Oval Office endorsement of Van Drew. “Bring it on,” said Bob Patterson, a Republican candidate for Van Drew’s seat, in a statement. “South Jersey citizens deserves a congressman who will fight for them and their conservative values – not a liberal opportunist who fights for himself.” Trump has fired off a couple of tweets lauding Van Drew, but it remains to be seen how hard he will campaign for the longtime Democrat in a Republican primary. At least eight members of Van Drew’s House staff have resigned, along with all three members of his campaign staff. Six of his former aides will be hired by New Jersey Democratic Representative Frank Pallone to work on the House Committee on Energy and Commerce, which Pallone chairs, according to sources familiar with the matter. Meanwhile, Montclair State University professor Brigid Callahan Harrison has already announced she will run in the Democratic primary. Harrison, a longtime resident of the district, has already won support from State Senate President Stephen Sweeney and six local Democratic Party chairs. Atlantic County Freeholder Ashley Bennett, a Democrat, plans to announce her candidacy Friday, and Amy Kennedy, a former public school teacher and wife of former representative Patrick Kennedy, a Rhode Island Democrat, has announced an exploratory committee for the seat. On Tuesday, all the county Democratic chairs in his congressional district demanded Mr Van Drew return campaign cash that was given to him as a Democrat. “It’s time for Van Drew to man up and do the right thing for once,” they said in a joint statement, “and return every dime he received since he sold us out. Read the full article