#a few ideas: if it's someone who seems to tag consistently otherwise you could politely ask them if they could use the tag x reader

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is silently begging self-insert fic writers to please, PLEASE tag their shit properly. If they can use the generic ass tag 'writing', why can't they also use a general 'x reader' in the tags? Filtering 'x reader' in the post itself helped for a little and then something fell through the cracks bcs it's 'x f!reader'!! Ughhhh

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[swordofpevensie]

Anything I Do, I Know You're Gonna Watch

[Chapter • II]

warnings: mentions of strict parents, jane eyre appreciation, peter is being annoying but we still love him, i don't know why i made y/n's mother sort of a villain, y/n you go honey!

a/n: writing this chapter was fun! sorry for writing very slowly though :( it really takes some time for me to write because writing in english is can be hard sometimes :( but i sincerely hope you like it! and let me know if you want to be tagged in the taglist! ♡

word count: 2981

Books. Leather bound, thick, and beautiful books. Oh, how much you loved them.

You were in the library of the university. You had an essay to write, therefore you were looking for sources, such as encyclopedias or books that were related to your subject.

Walking between the shelves and wandering inside the library made you feel so good. Libraries were the places where you felt free and truly happy. Books were your saviours, they saved you from reality and took you to the places you needed to be.

This time you were in Thornfield, walking inside the hall with Jane. You knew you were supposed to read scientific researches right now and your mother would've been very upset and angry if she'd seen you reading a romance novel, however you couldn't resist the beauty of the book you were holding in your hands, and you were curious to learn what was going to happen in the next chapter. You gave yourself fifteen minutes to read it, then you were going to start doing some research about your topic.

You touched the page to turn it, your fingers caressed the paper, and you felt the beauty and antiquity of it. You loved to think that so many people had touched the same very page before you did. That idea was very romantic for you. You bit inside of your cheek not to smile. ‘If only my mother knew I am smiling while reading a romance.’ You thought and it increased your desire to smile.

You looked at your watch and saw that you have eight minutes left to read. You frowned a little and focused on your book again.

You changed your position, this time you leaned your right shoulder to the bookshelf. You read for the eight minutes you had left in that position. You were truly captured by the incidents that Jane experienced and it was really hard to leave the book the shelf it belonged, then left the book section you were in.

You walked through the desks, there were so many people studying or reading. You quietly walked and finally reached to the section you were supposed to have been when you first arrived at the library.

You took a short breath, pulled your bag’s handle to your shoulder (you probably didn’t notice it felt down from there while you were reading), and started wandering between the shelves. When you found a book that could help you, you took it and soon, you had a tower of books in your arms. That old but beautiful scent of the books was everywhere and it made you feel good. You loved everything about books, you couldn’t help it.

After collecting the books, you decided to sit down somewhere and take a look at them to see if they could actually help or not. You’d visited the library during summer a few times, for this reason you knew where the studying desks of this section were. You quickly walked there and tried to see whether there were any empty seats beneath your tower of books. Luckily, there was an empty chair and desk. You breathed out; you really were relieved to find a place to study. Otherwise, you would have to borrow them and go home to study. But you really liked to study in the library because the aura of the place had always motivated you.

As you got closer to the desk, you realized there was a boy sitting next to it. He was looking at the books he had on his desk, he seemed completely lost to you because he almost buried his head to them. He had a stack of books consisting of five or six books. He also had some opened and his hand was touching one of them.

You put your books to your desk, took of your bag and sit down to your chair. You took a short and silent breath, and then opened the first book you grabbed and immediately started reading.

At first, you forgot him, the rest of the library, and almost where you were because you were really captured by everything you were reading and also realizing the subject was actually a bit hard and writing an essay on it wouldn't be easy caused your stress level to increase. You were too busy with being stressed and panicking to pay attention to the boy next to you.

However, when you heard someone taking a really big breath brought you back to reality. ‘Oh,’ You thought. ‘At least someone is as stressed as me.’ You turned your head to your right, where the boy was sitting, and you saw that he was already looking at you.

You'd rather have deceased than seen him, and his blue eyes looking directly to you.

You knew what you must do was to look away but for some reason, you couldn't turn your head. Maybe you thought it'd be rude; he was your classmate after all.

It gave him courage to talk to you. Now that you weren't looking away, he could finally introduce himself properly.

“Hi,” He said in a low voice.

You almost couldn't hear him and you didn't know what the reason was. Was it your excitement that came out of nowhere or was he really speaking whisperingly?

“I think we are in the same department and class, aren't we?” He had a smirk on his face after he stopped speaking.

You nodded. You were scared of talking because you really didn't want to be one to bother others.

“Peter Pevensie.”

You saw his hand was waiting to be shaken. Normally, you weren't supposed to do this because your mother wouldn't approve, but you were scared of being that girl again because of your mother and her never ending demands, therefore you took his hand and shoke it quickly, and then let go of it.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You whispered and turned your head to your book again.

But you couldn't focus at all. Why was he there? No, why on the earth must he be there at the same time you decided to visit the library? No, why the last empty chair was next to his? Why couldn't it be somewhere far away from him?

You put your finger to the page, hoping it'd help you to focus on what you were doing. You shouldn't mind him, at all. He was just your classmate and the person who'd been bothering you for a week.

Actually, you were trying your best to not take it personally or let him invade your mind. You needed to focus on studying, your lectures, and professors. But, oh God, that boy was trying his best to overshadow you during the lessons.

At first, he raised his hand to speak, and it was good. At least he was waiting you to stop talking. But then he started interrupting you in the middle of your speech and somehow, everything he said went counter to your ideas. He was looking down on the things you said and was making of them in a very sarcastic voice.

You were a competitive person and honestly, you liked being challanged. You never held back; you answered him and put him to his place when needed to be. You politely asked if you could continue to talk because you weren't done when he inturrupted you. You knew your calmness and kindness drove him crazy because you saw him breathing out furiously. You enjoyed annoying him and loved to be the cause of his rage.

You never showed it tough. You weren't allowed to get closer with any boy, even if you made them mad and they hate you. Your family was one of those families who didn't approve any interactions between a man and a woman unless it was for marriage.

For that long and tiring week, besides your lessons, duties, dealing with your family, and helping your father in the bakery, you had to put up with him and his hate towards you, whose reason you didn't know and couldn't understand.

It wasn't like you liked him, but at first you didn't hate him. Until he drove you crazy with everything he said. You never thought a person would be able to conflict with a person in the way he did. It felt like he tried to say and defend the exact opposite of everything you said, thought, and defended on purpose. It felt like he spent hours at home to find things to say so that he could put you out of temper.

The only time he couldn't object to you was when you said something he'd absolutely say to see what he'd do. And he did what you expected; he didn't raise his hand and he was quite for the rest of the lecture.

Well, he took his revenge by ruining all the other lessons but you still were happy to beat him.

Oh, God, you wasted minutes while thinking about him. No, not him. You thought the things he did all week and the things that bothered you.

You took a short breath and this time managed to focus on what you were reading.

After skimming through two books, you saw there weren't much information that could help you in them. Therefore, you put them away and grabbed a new book.

But wait, what was he reading so intensely? What was he studying? Was he doing the same assignment with you? You wanted to figure out.

You threw a glance at the books that were on his desk. You could see five books and all of them had titles related to the subject of your assignment.

Oh, how strongly and badly you wanted to hit him with one of those books. You didn't do it becayse you felt pity for the book you'd be hitting him with.

Maybe that was the reason why he introduced himself out nowhere, and although you knew each other already. Maybe he wanted you to pay attention to him so that you could see he was studying with the books you needed.

You clenched your left fist (because he couldn't see your left hand). You didn't react in any other way as you didn't want him to intuit you were pissed off. You wanted to leave and come back later when he set those books free but you couldn't because he'd guess why you left and you just didn't want to give this pleasure to him.

You were going to stay there, read anything you find, and wait until he was done with them. You didn't care if it would take hours for him to finish studying. You were going to wait and meanwhile make the best of the books you had.

You took your notebook and pen from your bag. After opening a page, you started reading again. Meanwhile you took some notes that could actually help you. You were relieved to find a book that really had some information you could use.

Throughout the time you spent reading and taking notes, you heard him and the noise he made. You heard the noise his pen made as he was writing. You heard his breathing. You heard the noise of the book page he turned. The library was so silent that you could hear his hands running on the pages.

You were distracted sometimes but never showed it. You kept your eyes on the words, never looked at him. Thank God, you were a stubborn person, otherwise you'd probably keep looking at his desk to see what he was doing.

You stood up to put the books you wouldn't use back to their shelves and also to see if you could find new books, or books that he didn't see yet.

You felt safe between the shelves. He couldn't see you and all you could see was book covers. You were happy now.

You wandered for a while, picking up some books hoping to find something. When you were done, you went to your desk with three books you held in your arms.

His eyes were on you. He wasn't even trying to hide it. He was watching you as you approached to your desk. He looked at the books. He looked at the ink covering your fingertips. He let himself gaze at your clothes.

You wore an brown skirt with pockets. The pockets had cream lines on them. Your shirt was also brown and it was simple. All the buttons were buttoned up. Your shoes were black, had short heels. Your hair was tied up in a loose bun on your nape. It was loose because you were playing with your hair while reading. He saw you mussing it.

Honestly, you were fine according to him. You were simple, but fine. There was nothing exaggerated or you weren't trying too hard. He of course didn't have any problems with people wearing fancy clothes or trying too hard; once upon a time he himself wore magnificent things. But he liked this simplicity on you. He secretly envied the way you could look fine without even trying.

When your eyes caught his, he immediately looked back to his book and pretended nothing happened. You couldn't understand why he was looking at you but you didn't mind and sit down. Then, you put your books to your desk and got lost in reading again.

Your notes took almost two pages when you were done. You felt good while you were making progress. You were going to start writing your essay at home with a clear and relaxed mind.

You actually weren't done with searching but you felt satisfied because of the things you'd managed to learn and find. After collecting them in a logical order at home, you were going to come back and continue searching and writing your essay.

Despite knowing you said you'd stay as long as he stayed, you also knew you had to go to the bakery and help your family. You were stubborn and competitive but you were also aware of your responsibilites. Besides, he couldn't piss you off enough to make you stay there for hours and forget about your other duties yet. Therefore, you quickly put your notebook and pen to your bag, and left your desk with the books in your arms waiting to return back their shelves.

You heard another chair moving. You didn't look back, and kept walking. You knew he was behind you and probably following you, however you didn't know why. Why on the would he stop studying and follow you? Despite being a girl knowing many things, you didn't know the answer of this question.

When you put the last book to its place, you decided to ask him why he was following you, yet the moment you turned, you realized it wasn't him. It was just a girl you didn't know looking at books.

Why did you think he was following you? Did you want him to follow you? Oh, no, you definitely wouldn't want that. Because if he followed you, he would just bother you and you'd had enough of him today.

After taking a short breath and calming down, you walked to exit door. You were really going to leave until you saw him standing in front of the circulation desk.

He was smiling to the staff member and he seemed having fun. Then you realized the books on the desk. You could see there were more than ten books. It dawned on you.

It was a really cliche and cheap move, even for him. Was he really flirting with the stuff member and trying to borrow books more than allowed? Oh, there was no way way you let it happen.

Besides reading very fast, being pretty witty, and baking really delicious pies, one of your superpowers was being extremely annoying when you wanted to be. Oh, how strongly you wanted to be annoying at that moment.

You walked there and stood next to him.

“Hi, classmate.” You said with a obviously fake smile on your face. “I was leaving but I saw you and didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. What are you doing?”

He was shocked and it was very clear. You wanted to smile so badly but could stop yourself. Victory seemed so close that you could almost taste it.

“Nothing.” He tried to sound casual and shrugged his shoulders. “Just borrowing some books.”

“Yeah, I can see. For our assignment?”

He nodded.

“But, Mr. Pevensie, I believe there are thirteen books. I thought we could borrow only ten, am I wrong?” You turned to the staff member when you finished your sentence.

“Yes, you are right ma'am.”

“Oh, I think you counted wrong then Mr. Pevensie.” You used your most irritating voice.

“Yes, yes, Miss Y/L/N, I think I might have counted wrong.”

He seemed so angry and annoyed that it made your whole day.

“To help you, I think I could borrow these three. Would you mind if I did? I sincerely hope you wouldn't Mr. Pevensie. I'm just a classmate trying to help you.”

He took a short breath and you saw his jaw clenching for a moment.

“You can borrow whatever you want, Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for your help.”

You grabbed three of the books.

“You are very welcome, Mr. Pevensie. I'm always here to help you. Have a nice day!”

He didn't say anything and you weren't expecting him to speak. You left him behind you and walked to the door.

You looked at the books. They seemed they could help you.

You couldn't stop smiling until you arrived at your bakery. You loved that sweet taste of victory and weren't going to let it go easily.

Peter Pevensie wanted a battle but now you declared a war.

•••

taglist: @thegrxywitch @generalblizzarddreamer @bast-s

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Charleigh’s Doll - Acquisition

So this is a new idea that I’ve been working on for a little bit, instead of any of my current WIPs. What can I say, the creative juices flow where they flow. Anyways, I can’t say how often this will update or how consistently, but I have high-ish hopes!

Tagging some people who expressed an interest (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @cupcakes-and-pain @lave-e @killtheprotagonist 

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanization, referring to people as “it,” lady whumpee, lady whumper/caretaker, lines between whumper and caretaker being blurred, that’s all for this chapter I think, but please let me know if I missed anything!

---

Charleigh sighed, tapping her foot impatiently on the store floor, her eyes trailing over the items lining the shelves of the pet store. She glanced at her watch yet again before pursing her lips and nudging the girl next to her, who turned around to frown at her.

“Sorry, Charleigh!” she said lightheartedly, tossing her natural unnaturally red hair over her shoulder, sounding not very sorry at all.

Charleigh just gave a sigh before her lips turned upward into a reluctant grin. “It’s fine, Rey,” she conceded. “But if we don’t get going soon, we’re gonna miss the movie.”

Her best friend, Reyna, gave a dismissive wave of her hand, turning back to stare at the shelf in front of her. “Don’t be such a worrywart. We’ll get there in plenty of time. You’re just sad because we might miss some of the previews. And you love those.” She gave Charleigh a teasing grin over her shoulder. “Weirdo.”

Charleigh snorted a soft laugh, and was about to reply when a commotion came from the back of the store, where they kept the pets. She didn’t know what made her do it, but she left Reyna behind in the accessories section staring at the selection of toys in front of her with nothing but a wave and followed the noises.

She pulled up short at what she saw when she reached the area. She’d never been a big pet person - never seen the appeal, quite frankly, or had the time - but taking in the pets lining the back wall in their cages, the rather poor, uncomfortable conditions they were kept in, her mouth twisted into a grimace. She dragged her eyes over the scene in front of her, brows raising in surprise.

Two store employees were struggling to drag a sobbing pet towards an empty cage. The pet, young with long dark hair covering most of her face, was flailing about, bawling and whimpering. Charleigh had no doubt that the pet would be begging if not for the tight black muzzle secured fast around her face.

A few other shoppers had stopped to watch the scene, and one, a middle aged woman with a bleach blonde bob, leaned over to loudly whisper to Charleigh, “God, don’t they know how to make pets behave anymore. If my pet acted like that in public..” She trailed off with a distasteful look on her face before shaking her head and walking away. Charleigh couldn’t help but feel bad for that woman’s pet.

Slowly, the small crowd dispersed, until all but Charleigh were gone. One of the employees, a young woman about Charleigh’s age, glanced up and made an apologetic expression towards her, before soundly slapping the pet, who froze, a hand drifting up to clutch her cheek. 

Charleigh winced slightly in sympathy, craning her neck to see the pet through all the hair.  

“That’s it, pet!” the employee snapped, yanking the now-stunned pet up by her collar. “Behave yourself. Or do you want your removal date moved up?” The pet let out a broken cry at that but stopped struggling immediately.

The employees got her in the cage and fastened the door securely, leaving the pet curled up in a shaking ball as far back as she could get before turning around to leave. Charleigh caught the attention of the other one, a lanky teen boy, probably only working here as an after school job, and he moved over towards them.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked, a forced smile matching his overly cheerful tone.

She gave him a small smile back, remembering her own teen years working in customer service. “Yeah, um, hi, I had a question. About that pet.”

His smile wavered for a moment before he responded. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

Her brow furrowed a bit. “What did that other employee mean, when she said ‘removal date’?” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I don’t have a pet. I’m just here with a friend.” She hitched a thumb over towards Reyna’s general direction.

The boy gave a polite nod. “Not a problem at all. Every pet has a sale value connected to them - how much they’re worth - and based on that, a removal date is issued out. If they’re not sold by that date, then they’re removed. Pets who are considered more high demand have further out dates, whereas pets considered less desirable have dates that are closer. It also depends on their health, their temperament, what company and store they’re being sold in, and if they’ve been bought before. For example-”

Charleigh cut him off, frowning slightly. “Wait, what do you mean, they’re removed?”

He looked at her like she was crazy - or just very dumb. “When a pet reaches their removal date without being bought, they’re euthanized. After that point, they’re deemed to cost more than they’re worth. It’s all very humane, of course.”

Charleigh felt sick. She pushed out, “And, um, when is that pet’s removal date?” She gestured over to the one from before, who had quieted down and simply folded up on herself.

The man gave a small shrug. “Tomorrow, after closing. That’s when removals take place.” He added with a small laugh, “Of course, it might be removed tonight, after all the trouble it’s caused. Nothing but a problem since we got it. It is a used pet, after all. Not the first time we’ve removed ‘em before we’re supposed to. Especially with the troublemakers.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink before moving on to help another customer.

Charleigh stood there for a moment, feeling the ground sway underneath her. She thought she might be sick. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she had moved over to the cage where the pet had been shoved in.

Tapping softly on the glass, she tried to get the pet’s attention, but it was as if the pet had left her body, staring blank, glassy green eyes through the hair still hanging in front of the majority of her face. Seeing the thin piece of paper hanging from the cage, Charleigh grabbed it and skimmed over the information.

It listed her height, weight, hair color, eye color, all the details about her that a potential owner might like to know. Charleigh’s eyes widened at the age. 22. That was only three years younger than herself or Reyna. Swallowing down her disgust, she continued reading. 

Temperament: Unruly unless strict discipline is shown. 

Charleigh gave the pet a quick once-over, finding it hard to reconcile the terrified, softly whimpering girl in front of her with the one the employee and booklet painted.

Charleigh’s lips parted and she murmured softly, “Hey there. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you turn around for me, please?” The pet stiffened, before reluctantly shifting herself so that she was facing Charleigh.

She reached through the thin, widely spaced bars of the cage to place two fingers underneath the pet’s chin. Lifting the pet’s head, Charleigh couldn’t contain the gasp as she saw the pet’s face, subconsciously raising a hand to her own cheek.

The pet was extremely pretty - or, she would’ve been, if not for the jagged scar going down the left side of her face, from the top of her hairline, through the far corner of her eye and ending at the edge of her mouth. It was if someone had taken a knife to her face and yanked it down as roughly as they could. Charleigh leaned back slightly, her other hand going to cover her mouth. The pet’s big green eyes watched her warily, tracking every movement. 

Her otherwise flawless pale skin spoke of a pet that had been otherwise well cared for, if a bit sun-deprived. Charleigh forced herself to look down the rest of her body and, while she couldn’t see any other visible marks, she did note that the pet seemed unhealthily thin.

“Oh my,” Charleigh whispered. “What happened to you?” 

The pet seemed to pull back from that, as if expecting to get hit. Charleigh winced at her words, realizing how they probably sounded to the pet. She pulled the informational booklet towards her again and continued reading, a half-thought pushing into her head that she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet.

She caught note of the words facial disfigurement and grimaced before continuing searching for what she was looking for. The price was listed at the very bottom of the sheet, in bolded print. 

Charleigh sucked in a breath, at once surprised at both how expensive and relatively inexpensive the pet was. Most pets, she knew, were sold for tens - or even hundreds - of thousands of dollars. This one was only a few thousand. Only, she scoffed at herself. 

The thought, the one she didn’t allow herself to think, kept poking at her, and she just stared at the pet until a hand dropped on her shoulder, snapping her out of it. 

She glanced up to find Reyna standing above her. “Hey, Charleigh, I’ve got what I need. Wanna head out now?” she said, lifting a plastic bag, before glancing at the pet with raised brows. “What is that?”

Charleigh shrugged, dropping the paper and standing. “Nothing. I was just looking at something.” She hesitated before taking a step away. “Anyways, you’re right. We don’t want to miss our movie.” 

Yet, as she tried to move, she found that she kept staring back at that pet, still curled up and watching her mournfully, with eyes both too old and too young. Reyna let out a big sigh. “You keep staring at that pet. You’re not seriously considering…?” She trailed off, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

Charleigh gave her a weary look. “I don’t know. She is kinda cheap. Only a couple thousand. I’ve got plenty saved up. Plus, she- her removal date is pretty close.” She gave a kind of helpless shrug, taking a tiny step back towards the cage. Then another one.

Reyna just rolled her eyes, following her back to the pet. “Fine. She is pretty cute. Except for that hideous scar. No wonder they pushed up her removal date.” Rey grinned, nudging Charleigh with her shoulder. “But for that price, it’s a steal. Plus maybe she and my Sadie girl could have pet playdates!” She laughed, and Charleigh could tell she was now thinking about her own pet at home, the one her parents had bought her as a graduation gift.

Charleigh crouched in front of the pet, reaching hand back in. “Here, girl,” she commanded softly. The pet stared at her for a moment before obediently, if a bit reluctantly, pushing her head into the hand. She scratched the pet’s scalp a bit, wondering. “Hmm, what do you think? Should I take you home?” Her hand trailed downward, brushing a finger against the large scar, before moving to cup the pet’s chin. She turned the pet’s head towards her, brushing a couple strands of the dark hair out of the way. 

The pet watched her, unreadable expressions warring across her face. But she didn’t pull away, or show any signs of disobedience or defiance that Charleigh would’ve expected from her temperament description. Instead, she seemed content to sit there, drying tears on her face, and be held by Charleigh’s hand.

Charleigh glanced up at her friend, before giving a small laugh. “Look at this face. How could I say no?”

Reyna threw her hands up in mock surrender, still grinning like a fiend. “Okay, if that’s how you wanna spend your money.”

Charleigh shrugged, flagging down an employee. She pointed towards the pet. “Hi, I’d like to buy this pet.”

[sidereal-fantasies]

Sincerely, Not You

[Choi San]

03: Transparency

WARNING(S): None (just one curse word)

College AU in which Choi San and many others receive letters that threaten to break their already fragile hearts

“Patience and pride have never worked together nor will they ever give you the answer you are searching for.”

A few days has passed since the rather coincidental meet up between you and San. With the new revelation that you had also received a mysterious letter, the aspiring writer has made it his mission to meet you again to inquire about this predicament. However, for as thoughtful as San can be, his plan only consisted of patiently waiting until you hunted him down yourself if the letter was deemed to be so significant to your being. A hopeless yearning to satisfy childish meddlesomeness, one would have told him. A death wish if that letter seemed important, another would have warned. Yet, San stayed determined to pull himself out of the ambiguity that he was left with in this situation even if your lack of reaction from the first morning class you two shared appeared a little discouraging.

“Maybe it wasn’t that important then,” Yeosang concluded as San and him strolled the streets in search of a quick bite between classes.

San hummed. “Maybe you’re right, but I say otherwise,” he retorted, causing the brunette to raise an eyebrow.

For as long as Yeosang knew San, any doubt that crossed San’s mind only meant that a reckless plan was brewing inside the depths of his ever-so-busy mind. Any effort to steer him towards a path with less collisions in the near future would be useless at this point. He was silently stubborn, as Yeosang had learned over the years. Too stubborn to move away from the daydreams that sometimes distracted him from reality. Too stubborn to step away from the harsh truth he presents himself with in a quiet manner. Disaster only waited for San if he continued on with this skewed perception.

“By the way, Mingi said something about [Name] the other day,” Yeosang stated.

“Mingi knows [Name] as well?” San began, “I didn’t know they were that popular.”

“It’s not really that they’re popular, but Mingi said [Name] and him actually used to attend the same school, which is odd if you ask me,” Yeosang explained.

It was indeed a little peculiar for San remembered that Mingi hailed from a well known dance academy. Though every school still had its general subjects, he knew that many who chose to attend any performing arts school were specifically set on committing to an unknown future filled with obstacles that would challenge faith, devotion, and work ethic for the field always remained unpredictable in a plethora of ways. Performing arts school was a place where many were able to unleash their creativity freely with no worries about the future however, and yet here was [Name], a computer science major who expressed no fantasy or daydream and who continued on with a plain lifestyle, contempt in the box they built around themselves. In the mind of San, [Name] was someone who struggled to grasp the concept that art is another world of its own that is meant to be explored with passion and fervor. A blank canvas ready to be splattered with unpredictability. [Name] couldn’t have come from any performing arts school.

“If they came from the same school, then how come one ended up as one of the top dance majors and the other didn’t pursue anything similar?” San inquired.

Yeosang shrugged his shoulders. “I’d ask the same thing. I left it at that, though, because I wasn’t entirely invested in the idea that Mingi and [Name] had attended the same school before.”

San let a soft sigh pass his lips. Every unanswered question will eventually seek out its response. It just takes a little patience, which San was all too familiar with not possessing as much as his friend beside him.

“Another story to be unraveled, then—“

“Choi San!”

San immediately scrunched his nose in displeasure at the sudden echo of his full name.

“Seems that I need to take my leave now,” Yeosang teased. San rolled his eyes at the brunette before he stopped and turned to face your approaching form.

Your face remained impassive as you immediately extended your hand out to the ravenette. “I know you have my letter, so can I have it back?” You asked. A tiny simper pulled at the corners of San’s lips.

“You mean this?”

San held the envelope addressed with your name in front of you. “Quite an interesting thing to receive. Admirer?”

“No,” you answered bluntly, causing San to chuckle slightly. Your eyes quickly scanned over the envelope before you began reaching out to retrieve it only to have San hold it out of your reach. “What are you trying to do this time, San?”

It was a risky thought, for sure, but San craved to satisfy the ever increasing curiosity that plagued his mind. So, San held your letter in front of you with one hand before he began to rummage around his backpack with his other hand. He then pulled out a similar envelope with his own name scribbled in the middle of it.

“Seems like I got the same thing. How about we open it together?” San suggested.

You pressed your lips together, contemplating the offer as your fingers slowly wrap around your own envelope. Neither of you knew what the contents were inside, leaving endless possibilities of what it could be. Yet, it surely could be just that; admirers that felt the need to go the old fashion route to reveal a loveless confession. There was nothing wrong with writing a letter for it was a completely normal gesture of those who idolized the idea of cheesy romance built upon the everlasting influence of rom-cons, drama shows, and coming-of-age films. A waste of paper, you would have scoffed. But, perhaps it could turn into an inside joke, or another step into a steady friendship, granted you and San had a similar response to romantic gestures like love letters.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Okay,” you responded, “we’ll open it and if we want to, we can talk about it.”

San beamed as he immediately ran a finger under the flap, ripping it open to reveal a similar off-white piece of paper folded inside. You carefully tore your’s open, pulling the flap gently before slipping the letter out of the confinement with a great amount of care.

“If it is just… admirers, what are you going to do?” you inquired. Out of your watchful gaze, you saw San’s broad shoulders shrug in response.

“Who knows,” he spoke as he quickly unfolded his letter. “Will you let me read your’s if it’s just that?”

“Who knows,” you mimed as you unfolded your letter as well.

An uncomfortable silence ensues within the first few lines of each letter, leaving you and San struggling to formulate any sentences as your gazes continuously scan over the letters. Visible gulps, shaky hands, and plastered frowns were the only things that your bodies could do to communicate that these letters were certainly not love letters. With just a few words, it seemed that the invisible pride you both held on for so long crumbled into dust.

“Did… did you write this?” You questioned in a low tone. San vigorously shook his head as he bit down on his lower lip. “Of course not. Did you?”

A shallow laugh escapes you as you crumple the letter into a ball suddenly. “That’s a lame question considering you’re the one who called me out for my lack of ability to even type an essay.”

Former romantic sounds just like you, though, San wanted to voice, pressing his lips into a thin line. For the ebony-haired student, it wasn’t hard to guess what kind of view you had on things that you would possibly deem as trivial and not worth the time to ponder over. As complicated as you presented yourself as, San knew for a fact that the mere idea of fidelity stirred a deeply rooted discomfort within you. Yet, you were so narrow minded when it came to a simple essay the other day. Doubt suddenly crossed his mind as his grip tightened. It makes perfect sense, he thought. The restrained view, the subtle dislike towards anything that could be understood as pushing the boundaries as friends; it had to be you.

“Will you still let me read that letter?” He carefully asked.

You peered down at the crumpled ball of paper in your hand before handing it over to San. “Do what you want with it. I have to leave now.”

“[Name]!”

You immediately turned back on your heel the moment San’s hand grips your wrist.

“Do you know who Song Mingi is?”

Well, shit. Your eyes shift elsewhere for a quick second before meeting San’s stern gaze once more. “He’s one of the dance team captains along with Jeong Yunho and Jung Wooyoung—“

“That’s not the answer I wanted,” San interrupted, gaze never faltering for even a second. “Let me try again. Do you know who Song Mingi is?”

A lump started to form within your constricting throat. “We attended the same high school, more or less. Why?” you asked as your free hand rested on the back of your burning neck.

“Do you want to tag along with me this weekend and meet up with him?”

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not you wanted to rip your wrist out of San’s iron grip. Your conscious was dancing on thin ice by now, carefully testing which idea would keep you from falling into the freezing water. It’s been a little over a year since you’ve last seen Mingi. It was unpredictable knowing how the dancer would react to seeing you on the same campus as him for you took so much caution to avoid the fiery haired man as much as possible. Fate, as it seems, had a way with making your future unclear.

“I’ll… I’ll give you my number then,” you finally answered.

San’s hand slipped away from your wrist just as the two of you breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m sure he’s been wanting to catch up with you for the longest time,” he assured you as he held his phone out to you. You could only force a polite smile though as your fingers reluctantly wrapped around San’s phone. Your patience was already thinned out as it is and your pride was shot, yet the universe remained unsatisfied with your pitiful state of mind. Hopelessly, you found yourself tumbling down a path full of misfortune and misery with San being the cataclysm of it all.

“It’s easy to tell you’re upset,” San noted as he took his phone back from you. You arch your eyebrows in response before motioning for the genius writer to continue.

“Stop worrying about it if it’s the letter. I’ll burn it if it makes you happy,” San chuckled softly.

“I… Look, I’ll just get going to my next class. Text me the details later and then I’ll decide whether or not I want to go,” you exhaled.

San remained wordless as he watched you scurry off with a frown etched into your features. He didn’t dare to say anything afterwards, knowing that it was probably best to leave the bitterly frustrating conversation unfinished. It was for the best, he noted. For both you and himself as he looked down to the creased paper known as your letter. Boundaries were tested and San had to face the fact that he may have pushed them too much for comfort. Nevertheless, he could say that he had, at least, tried. However, his curiosity remained and thrived, buzzing like a swarm of bees within his inner thoughts and consciousness.

The mysterious ink that stained your crumpled letter and caused your internal conflict was eventually shoved into the front pocket of his bag without another thought being dedicated towards it. His own letter followed suit with an exhausted breath escaping his lips. Perplexing, he would have remarked. Perplexing for a person who’s feelings are as transparent as glass.

“Let it be a mystery, then, [Name]. For both you and me to solve.”

[cruelangelstheses]

the path to girlhood

fandom: love live! rating: T characters: rin hoshizora, hanayo koizumi words: 3.9k additional tags: character study, au, trans girl rin, bullying, internalized transphobia, high school description: rin struggles to accept herself at her new school when she discovers a love for dancing. a/n: hello hello!! i wrote this a little over a month ago and decided to finally polish it and post it! this au is pretty similar to canon except that they’re just regular high school girls and not idols. i promise it’s not as angsty as the tags make it seem!! i will never write write a fic in which rin hoshizora is cis. happy pride to my fellow Transes of Gender <3 title comes from kururin miracle aka rin’s Trans Song. i love her so much. that's my fuckign daughter

read it on ao3

—

On the first day of high school, Rin Hoshizora goes to school in a skirt.

She hasn’t worn one out in public since she was a child, having resigned herself to hiding inside hoodies and sweatpants. As she wanders the unfamiliar hallways, Rin tries not to be conscious of the way some of her peers sneak curious glances at her from behind notebooks or open locker doors. If nothing else, she hopes the button on her backpack—a striped flag of pink, white, and blue—will be enough to clue them in, if any of them even know what it symbolizes.

Last month, Rin’s parents successfully enrolled her into the local but relatively well-regarded Otonokizaka Academy for Girls, mainly thanks to “proof” from her doctor that she has, in fact, started taking hormones and that she is, in fact, a Real Trans Girl, whatever that means. It’s an old, impressive school with plenty of extracurriculars and classes to choose from, and her best friend, Hanayo, goes there, too. Most importantly, though, it’s a chance to reinvent herself, to meet new people who don’t know her dead name—to make a statement, simply by wearing the Otonokizaka uniform and sitting in an Otonokizaka classroom, that says, I am a girl just as you are.

So far, it doesn’t feel quite as empowering as she thought it would.

Instead, she feels like a newborn baby, cut from the umbilical cord of the closet, naked and confused as she’s thrust into a strange new world. There’s no turning back now, no chance to abort the mission. All she can do is step forward into the light, with all the beauty and danger that it brings.

—

When Rin steps into her homeroom class, a soft, familiar voice calls out, “Rin-chan!”

Hanayo jumps up out of her chair and scurries over, her red glasses bouncing on her face. Rin grins and wraps her arms around her, squeezing her tightly, and for just a moment, she forgets about the rest of the world. There’s nothing outside this classroom, nothing outside her best friend’s warm embrace.

Rin opens her mouth to say something, anything—a how have you been or a help me please I don’t know if I can do this—but she doesn’t get the chance, because then the bell rings, and the homeroom teacher strides into the room. In a flurry, the students rush to their desks. Hanayo has saved a seat for Rin in the back, right next to her, and Rin sighs in relief as she slides into the chair.

While the teacher introduces herself, Rin scans the room, searching for any sign of a reaction from her classmates. Most of them are facing forward, listening or at least pretending to listen to the teacher. One girl sitting a few seats away pokes her friend on the shoulder and gestures to Rin. “Wow,” she mutters, just loud enough that it’s clear she wants Rin to hear it. “They’ll let anyone in this school, huh?”

Rin’s face heats up, and she quickly looks away, down at her empty notebook. In an attempt to seem nonchalant, she pulls a pen out of her pencil case and starts doodling a cat to distract herself. She likes her short hair—it’s cute and easy to manage, and it doesn’t get in her face when she’s playing sports—but suddenly she wishes it were longer so she could hide behind it. That probably wouldn’t work too well, though—before long, she’s sure her peers will be able to recognize her just by her decidedly unfeminine frame.

“Psst,” Hanayo whispers, and Rin turns her head to look at her. Hanayo props up her notebook horizontally. On an otherwise clean page, she’s written in pretty, curly handwriting, I believe in you! with little hearts all around it.

Rin flashes her a tiny smile and mouths a thank-you, but she still can’t shake the feeling that everything about her is wrong. Her knees are too knobby, her handwriting isn’t neat enough, her voice is too loud. She feels like a randomized Sim, like someone just threw together a collection of traits and lumped them all into a person. She’d like to give the spirits a “You Tried” sticker.

—

Rin likes talking to people. She likes jumping in on a conversation about athletics or music or pets and talking about her favorite type of cat (orange tabbies, obviously) or her favorite sports (how could she choose just one?). She likes introducing herself to those who look shy or lonely—in fact, it’s how she met Hanayo. Today, though, she finds herself infuriatingly tongue-tied, stumbling over her words in a way she never has before. Though she attempts, as always, to appear friendly, most of the girls she talks to seem to be at least somewhat uncomfortable with or uninterested in her presence, as if they’re just waiting for her to go away. The last thing Rin wants is to make someone unhappy or upset, so once she senses that she isn’t quite welcome in a particular group or conversation, she politely withdraws from it.

When Rin walks into the bathroom, all the girls that were hanging out and doing their makeup immediately grab their things and leave.

Rin overhears a few more rude comments throughout the day, but no one is overly confrontational. She finds herself pondering over girls and the way they show aggression—how girls who speak disparagingly about others behind their backs are referred to as “catty,” while physical fights between girls are often called “catfights.” Either way, aggressive or passive-aggressive, dealing in physical damage or emotional, girls are consistently compared to cats. It’s unfair to cats, Rin thinks, to associate them only with animosity and violence. Cats can be sweet and loving, too. Cats wouldn’t hate her just for wearing skirts or referring to herself as a “she.”

“Rin-chan,” Hanayo says later that day when they walk home from school together, “are you going to join any clubs or activities? They’ve got a lot of sports.”

“I might do soccer,” Rin replies, “and maybe basketball in the winter. But I’ll have to try it out first to see if I like it.”

Hanayo raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Rin loves soccer; they both know she loves soccer. What Rin’s really saying is, I’ll have to see if I’m treated in a way that deters me from playing.

“Well, if you don’t like it,” Hanayo says delicately, “you could do other sports that aren’t team-oriented. There’s track and cross-country. And there’s dance.”

“Dance?” Rin repeats. “What makes you think I’d be any good at that?”

“Well, you’re so coordinated, and you have really good stamina,” Hanayo says, twirling a strand of light brown hair. “And you like music. It looks like it’d be really fun.”

“You should do it, then,” Rin says, not unkindly.

Hanayo chuckles sheepishly. “I’d like to, but I’ve been too nervous to go by myself. Maybe you could come with me? Just to the first couple of meetings.”

Rin frowns. It’s not that she dislikes the idea of dancing, necessarily; she’s just never considered it. Dancing is for pretty girls with limbs as pliable as putty and skin softer than rose petals, not a scrappy little transgender tomboy with scraped-up knees and a finger that didn’t heal properly because she took it out of the splint before she was supposed to. Dancing is for girls who would never be mistaken for boys.

“The people there seem really nice,” Hanayo adds. “And I’ll be with you, remember?”

After a few moments, Rin finds herself nodding slowly. “Okay,” she says, trying to picture herself dancing to pop music or classical arrangements. It doesn’t quite feel right. “But if it falls on the same day as soccer, I’m choosing soccer.”

—

At the first soccer practice, they have a scrimmage against one another. It’s a perfect chance for Rin to show her teammates what she can do, to earn their trust and start to build camaraderie just like when she played on boys’ teams. Within the first few minutes of the mock game, however, it becomes abundantly clear that most of the girls have no interest in establishing a rapport with her. Some shift uncomfortably whenever she’s near. Others, especially those on defense, play particularly aggressively with her, pressing so close to her that they almost touch, nearly shoving her out of the way, or “accidentally” kicking at her heels when attempting to steal the ball from her. Nearly all of them seem to refuse to pass her the ball, even when she’s wide open, and even though she’s one of the fastest and most experienced members, so that the only times she ever actually manages to get it are when she steals it from the other side. The coach claps whenever Rin scores a goal, but hardly anyone else does, and it only seems to be out of politeness.

At the end of the practice, Rin is about ready to fall over in exhaustion, but not in a good way. She doesn’t think she’s ever had to work so hard in her life to try to make people like her, or at least play nice with her.

Hanayo texts her that evening. How’d it go?

Not great :-( I think I’ll come with you tomorrow to the dance club, Rin responds.

Hanayo’s reply comes a few seconds later. Oh no I’m so sorry!! Tomorrow will be better I promise!!

Rin sighs and flops down on her bed. “I sure hope so,” she mumbles to no one as she stares blankly across the room. A dress she bought online hangs on her closet door, unworn.

—

The room used for the dance club is similar to a gymnasium, except that it’s smaller and has walls made entirely of mirrors. When Rin steps out onto the hardwood floor and sees a few other girls chatting in the center of the room with a dance instructor, her chest tightens.

Beside her, Hanayo takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous, too,” she says, taking Rin’s hand in her own. “But we’re here together.”

They amble up to the small group, and the dance instructor turns to them with a smile. “Oh! It’s so good to see some new faces,” she says. “You can call me Miyazaki-sensei.”

“Hi,” Rin and Hanayo say in unison. They both giggle nervously.

“Hey, there’s no need to be nervous!” says a spunky girl with a side ponytail. “Anyone can learn to dance. I’m living proof! Plus it’d make great material for the talent show!”

Rin and Hanayo exchange glances. “Talent show?” Rin says.

“Yeah!” the girl says. “Every year right before summer break, the school holds a talent show. Anyone can enter! It’s really fun! Last year Kotori-chan, Umi-chan, and I performed as a trio,” she gestures to the other two girls in the room, “and we’re hoping to do it again this year! Sign-ups should be—uhhh, Umi-chan, when are the sign-ups again?”

One of the girls, Umi, sighs in exasperation, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. “Two Mondays from now. So not this coming Monday, but the one after that.”

“Great!” says the ponytail girl. Turning back to Rin and Hanayo, she adds, “Are you two friends? You should perform as a duo! It would be so cute! I bet I could find the perfect song for you guys—”

Miyazaki holds up a hand. “Why don’t we see if they actually enjoy it first, hm?” she says, amused.

First, they go around and introduce themselves. Miyazaki and the other girls seem nice enough; in fact, Rin thinks she saw Honoka, the ponytail girl, smile and wave at her as she walked into Otonokizaka on the first day of class. She appears to just love and accept everyone; her sincerity is almost childish, but charming nonetheless.

Then they get into the dancing. The three other girls, all second years, seem to know what they’re doing when it comes to planning their performance, so Miyazaki spends most of her time teaching Rin and Hanayo some simple moves to a handful of familiar pop songs.

Slowly, Rin can’t help but unfold. The satisfaction that blooms in her chest whenever she gets a move right, when she shifts her body perfectly to the rhythm of the music, is such a pleasant shock to her system that she feels herself letting her guard down, opening up. She and Hanayo laugh whenever they screw up a step, and no matter how many times they fail, Miyazaki’s patience and attentiveness never waver. When Rin glances over at the other girls, she finds them completely absorbed in their practice; only occasionally does she notice any of them looking her way, and when they do, it’s not with the piercing eyes of judgment, but the joy of sharing in something they love. In this room, Rin doesn’t have to worry about how others see her. She can just be.

—

Hanayo and Rin attend every dance rehearsal together. It’s a small, close-knit group, and even though they aren’t all working together on the same exact thing, Rin can feel that sense of camaraderie that she’s been missing. They’re all constantly looking to improve, to try new things, to create something lively and beautiful. The world is their canvas, their bodies the brushes, the music the paint. For Rin, dancing becomes an unexpected refuge. In the dance room, no one throws crumpled-up papers at her head or tries to trip her down the stairs; no one whispers ugly words in her ear as she walks by.

After hours of deliberation on both their parts, and a lot of convincing (read: begging) on Honoka’s part, Rin and Hanayo decide to take her suggestion and sign up for the talent show as a dancing duo. Honoka apparently spends an inordinate amount of time picking out the perfect song for them, an upbeat tune from an upcoming idol about accepting oneself. “Trust me,” she says, “the audience will love it. Idols are all the rage these days.”

Rin suspects that Honoka picked it out on purpose for its lyrics, but for what it’s worth, it is a catchy song, the kind of song that makes Rin want to jump up and dance whenever she hears it. Luckily for her, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.

Miyazaki helps them come up with the choreography, and they spend the next few months working avidly to perfect it. Even on weekends, they often meet up at one of their houses and practice for hours. Only if they feel that they did the best they possibly could will either of them feel comfortable enough to get up onstage and let hundreds of potentially unforgiving eyes gaze upon them.

Every once in a while, a particularly nasty comment or incident will give Rin pause, and she’ll feel an almost overwhelming urge to beg Hanayo to let them drop out of the talent show. She wouldn’t do that, though; she’d never want to force her best friend to turn her back on an opportunity just for her. Besides, she’ll be okay as long as Hanayo is there with her.

—

The day before the talent show, Hanayo isn’t in school.

During lunch, Rin calls her in a panic in one of the bathroom stalls. “What’s going on?” she hisses. “Our final rehearsal is tonight! Where are you?”

“I have pneumonia,” Hanayo replies.

Rin feels like the floor is falling out from underneath her. Words crowd in her mouth, but all that comes out is, “In summer?”

Hanayo chuckles halfheartedly. “Yeah. I think I got it from my grandfather. You know his immune system isn’t the best. I don’t think I’ll be able to—” She breaks off into a fit of coughing. “I can’t come tonight. I don’t think I’ll be able to perform tomorrow. I went to the doctor yesterday after school, and he says I need to rest until the antibiotics start working.”

Rin recalls the past few days, how Hanayo had been coughing for a little while and seemed more out of breath than usual. She’d hoped it was just a cold, that it would go away in no time. Now Hanayo is sick in bed, her lungs filled with fluid, and they’re scheduled to perform tomorrow.

“Kayo-chin, I—I can’t do it on my own,” she says, her heart starting to race at the thought of standing alone on that stage.

“Sure you can,” Hanayo says. “Just…finish the school day and then go to rehearsal. I’m sure Miyazaki-sensei can help you out.” Then she hangs up before Rin has the chance to argue.

The rest of her classes are a blur. Her mind spins with worst-case scenarios, and her hands shake too much for her to even try to doodle. She speaks to no one, afraid that if she opens her mouth, nothing coherent will come out.

As soon as the dismissal bell rings, Rin snatches her things and races down the hall to the dance room. Her hands are so full that she kicks the door open with her foot.

Miyazaki flashes a smile at her, but it quickly dissipates once she sees the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Rin drops her things on the floor against the wall. “Kayo-chin’s sick,” she says breathlessly. “Pneumonia. She can’t perform tomorrow. We have to drop out. I can’t do it without her; we have to drop out—”

Miyazaki holds up both her hands. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. Deep breaths, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Rin nods reluctantly and tries to steady her breathing. She hears the door open and close behind her, and then Honoka says, “Where’s Hanayo-chan?”

“She’s sick,” Miyazaki says calmly. “Rin’s probably going to have to perform by herself tomorrow.”

“Oh dear,” Kotori says. “I hope she gets better soon.”

“Rin-chan can do it, though!” Honoka says. “We’ve all seen her in action. She’ll do great!”

Rin shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Umi adds matter-of-factly. “You two were basically doing the same moves, right? It’s not like you were ballroom dancing. You won’t have to change much of the choreography to turn it into a solo act. And we can help you.”

Rin shakes her head again, faster. “It’s not that. I’m not worried about how I’ll do. I’m worried about how it’ll look. I’m not one of those pretty girls everyone loves. I’m different. And everyone’s eyes will be on me and no one else. I’ll be the center of attention…and I just don’t know if I can deal with how they’ll react to that. It suits me to be a partner or a member of a group, so I can blend in more, so someone else can shine. I can’t be the girl who shines. Not like this.”

“Of course you can!” Honoka blurts. “People are afraid of what they don’t understand. But you’re a girl just like the rest of us. Now’s your chance to show everyone. You’re at the Otonokizaka Academy for Girls, aren’t you?”

“But I tried to show everyone,” Rin says, her shoulders slumping. “That’s what I thought going to this school would do. But people still treat me like I’m just too different for them. Like I’m a failed girl, like I’m the wrong kind of girl.”

It’s Miyazaki who speaks up next.

“Then that’s their problem,” she says, “not yours. There’s no such thing as a ‘wrong kind of girl.’ There are girls with short hair and girls who love sports and girls who like to work on cars and girls who wear tuxedos and girls who like to build things—and girls who were mistakenly raised as boys. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you can be free of what others think of you. People are going to judge you no matter what you do. So if dancing brings you joy, and you want to share that joy with other people, then I want you to dance your heart out on that stage tomorrow.”

For a moment, all is silent. Then Rin chuckles sheepishly. She’s right. Of course she’s right.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Who wants to help me touch up this choreography?”

—

It’s the day before summer break, and the air buzzes with excitement. Even from backstage, Rin can feel her classmates’ gazes from out in the auditorium. Her heart feels like it’s going to claw its way out of her chest and make a run for it, and part of her wants to follow suit. Deep down, though, she knows she’s ready. She’s worked as hard as she possibly could. She’s going to stay, and she’s going to perform like her life depends on it. She has to, for Hanayo.

Rin adjusts her earrings and checks her makeup one final time in the backstage mirror before Miyazaki pops her head in. “Honoka, Kotori, and Umi are almost done,” she says. “You’re up.”

Rin smooths out her dress, a cute pastel pink, the very same one she bought online over the winter. It’s her first time wearing it in public, and it fits her like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. She takes a deep breath and glances down at her phone, which glows brightly with a new text message from Hanayo. I believe in you!! it reads, followed by a bunch of heart emojis.

Rin smiles, then fixes the pink barrette in her hair and heads out to the curtain area.

Honoka, Kotori, and Umi are walking offstage when Rin arrives. “You’ll do great!” Honoka whispers to her as she walks by, giving her a brief, sweaty hug. Kotori claps enthusiastically, and Umi puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Up next,” the principal says from the sound box, “we have Rin Hoshizora!”

The crowd claps politely. Rin tries her best not to look at any of them as she ambles onto the stage; her focus is only on the music and her body.

When she hears the opening of the song, all the fear and self-consciousness that’s been building up in her seems to fade away, replaced by instinct and muscle memory. She knows how to do this. She’s been doing it multiple days a week for months now.

For most of the first verse, the crowd is silent, as if they aren’t quite sure what to make of her. Then, when she bounces across the stage as the song shifts into the chorus, a few people whoop and cheer, and that’s all Rin needs to keep herself moving, to let the melody carry her home. She’s never felt more beautiful, more purely and authentically her. There’s so much she often hates about her body, but right now, she’s thankful for everything that makes her up, from her long limbs to her rectangular frame. Dancing, she’s discovered, isn’t just for conventionally attractive cis girls. It’s for anyone, as long as they have the passion and the resolve.

Honoka was right about the song choice—by the end, some people are clapping and dancing along, even singing the parts that they know. When Rin finishes the song with a smile, a wink, and a pose, the crowd responds in raucous applause. More than a few people in the audience seem shocked, and several others are smirking, shaking their heads, or mumbling to each other.

And yet, Rin finds it doesn’t particularly bother her. She’s realized something about this sudden turnaround: their acceptance of her is conditional, but her happiness is not. If being herself makes others uncomfortable…well, that’s their problem, not hers.

[bigskydreaming]

I mean, here’s the thing....

I’m more than capable of writing positive Batfam posts, meta deep dives that don’t dwell overlong on negativity, serious content, light hearted content, content about each and every one of the Batfam....anyone familiar with just a few different samples of my posts knows I do not lack for topics to happily ramble on about for absurd lengths. Hell, I’m pretty sure there’s a direct correlation where like, the less negative emotions I have about the content I’m writing, the LONGER it ends up being.

So its not like I particularly need or want to be the ‘loud angry scary adult cis white man yelling at kids’ to have something to say or talk about. Or that I particularly like that state of mind. I’m certainly not unaware of my privileges or that I can be off-putting or not someone everyone wants to be around on here. Its actually something I put a lot of thought into regularly, as personal accountability is such a big deal to me, and that certainly includes my own. There are times where I’ve looked back on something and thought yeah, I definitely could’ve dialed it down there.

But not gonna lie, given that personal accountability is kinda My Theme and I DO put a lot of time and effort into being self-aware and taking care not to cross certain lines, whether you believe me or not or agree with where I draw my lines or not....

Its more than a little obnoxious to regularly see my positive posts and my emotion-neutral meta posts and even my negative critical of canon posts take off and get hundreds of notes in just a couple of days....

But without fail, any time I so much as suggest that fandom’s perpetuating some of the very same toxic tendencies I criticize canon for, with the extension of that thought being hey fandom, unlike canon and how its written, we actually can do something about how we write these very same matters and slowly but surely normalize reader resistance to canon still perpetuating those ideas in the future, and maybe someday even they might buy a vowel and realize hey, our audience does not like what we’re selling here.

*Shrugs* Or maybe not. But even SOME changes to how specific problematic tropes and dynamics are being written in fandom currently could still only be an improvement, is all I’m saying.

Except, every time, without fail, no matter HOW I go about saying it, how polite, mild, civil, non-accusatory....its either crickets or immediate heels dug into the sand as often the very same people who commented on my neutral meta with variations of ‘this is pretty insightful’, like at the mere SUGGESTION its worth taking a more critical look at their own content to see what they might unknowingly be perpetuating and like....the very idea of asking fic writers to be more accountable for what toxic tendencies we perpetuate within our own creative works, even just among our own far more limited platforms....

Its like... HOLD UP! I AM BEING ATTACKED! WITHOUT CAUSE! WHY DO YOU HATE THE FANS? WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ALL THIS STUFF ABOUT THE ACTUAL COMICS???

And its just like....uh....I did. I do. You were there. You were saying I was making some really good points. But without calling any individuals out or making specific insinuations or personal attacks....I am suddenly just the most unreasonable of the unreasonables, because I dared say “hey, we can’t do anything about what canon writes, but we can do something about the things we write, and actually transform some of the more problematic tendencies and dynamics from canon into things that benefit all the characters and all the fans.”

But nah. Without exception, those posts either get nada or they get vitriol, no matter my own linguistic volume....and meanwhile, posts I made just before them and just after them are now hitting the thousand notes mark. So I kinda can’t help but wonder, is the problem really that I magically lose all ability to grasp supremely basic concepts and start spewing irrelevant gibberish anytime I’m critical of fandom specifically? Or.....just spitballing here....is it at ALL possible that maybe I’m not as much of the problem there as you want to make me about to be?

Like, say what you will about how toxic my more negative, angry posts can be, but personally, I think artificial positivity is just as toxic....plastering a ‘I see nothing wrong here’ sign with a smiley face over a bunch of mold doesn’t actually accomplish anything but allow that mold to fester and grow even further, without notice, until it becomes too widespread to ignore anymore at which point its usually rooted so deep its impossible to get out.

So yeah. I get angry, the all caps come out, and the volume level of my posts on those subjects rises. Its something I’m aware of and something I’m okay with and stand by with certain posts and that I decide I’m not okay with and keep an eye against repeating with certain other posts. Its a process, it doesn’t have an endpoint or finish line, and I’m okay with all of that.

What I’m NOT okay with though, and never will be, is the heat I draw for that and the condemnations and criticisms of my behavior and how toxic and unpleasant I make fandom with those posts....as though the tendencies I’m pointing out in them, by virtue of already being present throughout fandom, don’t already make it toxic and unpleasant in a lot of ways, for a lot of people.

But for all the times I have someone respond to me or call me out specifically for one of my angry posts that very deliberately are made with no specific individuals in mind, just generic references to fandom wide tendencies as a whole....there’s a whole lot of ‘helpful advice’ for all the things I should do different or better to avoid making fandom a more toxic place.....and not a hint of awareness that there’s anything at all they could be doing differently to make fandom less toxic than it already is in various ways.

So just saying, I’m kiiiiiinda not super keen on being lectured for my shit by people who are committed to the belief that their own shit doesn’t stink....WHILE AT THE SAME TIME, I have a good half a dozen positive or neutral meta posts still making the rounds through fandom and consistently picking up notes that according to the tags, generally seem to be viewed as adding positively to fandom in their own respective fashions.

Which basically from my perspective, makes things look like this:

Me: regularly contributes positive content that’s received positively by lots of different parts of fandom, not just the Dick Grayson stan corner of it, with zero negativity attached to these posts....regularly contributes meta content that’s deemed insightful and adding fresh viewpoints by lots of different parts of fandom, not just the Dick Grayson stan corner of it, again, with zero negativity attached because it doesn’t rely on putting down any other characters to make whatever points I’m after.....

....but then contributes posts that are critical of certain specific characterizations and viewpoints within fandom itself, without actually having a twelve step powerpoint presentation attached detailing ALL FANS MUST DO THIS INSTEAD....and instead I usually just include a spectrum of possible alternative takes.....

But wait! Nooooow comes the pushback. Which usually sounds like various forms of this:

Stop trying to police us! La la la la can’t hear you over the sound of your moral superiority complex! You just want us to do exactly what you want us to do which is gaslighting and the very same abusive behavior you talk about which makes you abusive!

And also, a bunch of changing the subject or avoiding addressing various points I raise completely.

Maybe you see my issue? I don’t need tips on how to be a positive fandom presence, I actually don’t have any trouble creating positive content or meta, a large amount of which is deemed insightful and humorous and otherwise well received....but the second I make a criticism of fandom and suggest there’s things fans could be doing differently to address the toxicity existing around various characters in various respects, instead of just keeping everything about DC’s flaws which none of us including me have any kind of platform to even reach DC with......

Suddenly I have ZERO idea what I’m talking about, I clearly don’t get the point of fandom, period, I’m obsessed with my own moral righteousness, and am like, so out of the ballpark misguided its not even funny, and I need all of this explained to me like a five year old, because everyone obviously should get that ‘we’re just fans, why are you blaming us for things we write specifically instead of DC who are getting paid as if that’s even the point?’

So yup. I get ticked off, I make more posts venting about being ticked off, rinse and repeat and my volume goes up.

And that’s it by the way.

You’ll notice, that’s kinda the worst that ever happens, because I literally have never done anything but....type posts with lots of capitalized letters. I don’t target specific individuals, I don’t harass people, I don’t @ specific fics or fic writers or urge people to flood their comments or ask boxes with callouts. I’ve never called anyone in this fandom names or made personal attacks other than the posts various people have felt targeted by because my description of specific tropes or tendencies I have a problem with apparently made them think I was talking about them I guess? Hmm. Weird.

So what’s the point of this post? Idk. Nothing really. Not trying to accomplish anything, just putting my thoughts out there as a way to work through them because like....that’s literally what I have this blog for, lmao. And FYI, I super don’t appreciate the tactic of condemning me for my quote unquote rage issues and framing all this as me yelling at kids on the internet....kids, specifically, and oh right, just screaming at people rather than addressing my own abusive behavior.

Since abuse is a hugely personal and important topic to me, let me just say accusing me of abusing generic fandom in general (since again, I haven’t actually made any of this personal about any individual with my fandom criticisms)....like, I’m quite willing to consider and address flaws in my own behavior when raised, but I’m not a fan of being called abusive in a context that demonstrates a complete lack of awareness as to what abuse actually is.

You don’t like me yelling on my blog? Fine, you don’t have to like it, or me. But abuse is the exploitation of a power differential, taking advantage of power one person has over the other, or that the other person just doesn’t have period. The fact that I am an adult cis white man does not make me aggressively capitalizing stuff in my own posts the same as “the same triggering position of the cisgender man who screams and makes kids feel scared and wince and hide from your posts.”

Like, lol, nice. Classy. I mean who cares right, that yeah, even acknowledging that we can legitimately sense tones and moods through even written text.....a person ranting on their internet blog is not remotely interchangeable with the physical presence of an adult cis white man loudly screaming in your face and with the potential for immediate consequences and harm. Does that mean the tone of my posts is above criticism? No. It means exactly what I said. The one is not the same as the other. 

Secondly, the repeated insistence on me yelling at kids...and this person I’m quoting isn’t the only one who’s done this, FYI, and its crap. Am I unaware that there are a lot of minors in fandom? No, I absolutely am not. Its why I make a point to check the blog of someone I’m replying to heatedly before I respond, to make sure they’re not a minor, and if they are, I don’t engage. So that I can categorically state, with complete certainty, I have never yelled at a kid in this fandom. Do my generic yells about ‘fandom’ not include kids then? Yeah, you could say kids are included there, though again I’d have to question why my criticisms of specific handlings of specific subjects somehow equates to me yelling at specific individuals, whom apparently are all kids and only kids. Like, framing my posts as being all about me screaming at kids specifically is a deliberate choice with a clear aim of making me look as bad as possible. This isn’t subtle.

Third, as an abuse survivor I’m keenly aware that doesn’t exempt me from being abusive myself, but it does mean I find it really fucking gross to be labeled abusive because my posts make kids feel scared and wince and want to hide from my posts. As someone who as a kid absolutely had to hide from their abuser in fear, I really, dearly would love to know what exactly it is about the capitalized sentences written by a man who couldn’t even pick a stranger’s URL out of a lineup, that’s so scary that kids, specifically, want to run and hide from the big bad posts. No, seriously. Go on. Please tell me what exactly it is about my screaming rage issues as conveyed by my posts, which pose any kind of threat or even the potential of threat for someone who I’ve never interacted with and only feels personally attacked by my posts by virtue of associating themselves with the behaviors or tendencies I’ve centered in those posts as the things I’m specifically angry about.

I also apparently am abusive because that’s what you call it when I gaslight or attempt to gaslight a fandom....which is apparently what you call it when my fandom policing tries to get everyone to do exactly what I want them to do. Which again is pretty interesting to me given that I’ve literally never told even generic ‘fandom’ at large to do anything in specific other than....’hey this thing I think is shitty and thus am criticizing shouldn’t be a thing, stop doing it.” Oh wait, I’m sorry, I also ask people to consider their creative impact and not insist on pretending everything we write exists in a vacuum and has no potential to carry harm, and just keep this in mind when making our creative choices. Still not sure how that’s demanding everyone do things exactly the way I want them, since the only clear and actionable request or demand in all of that is...omg....HE ASKED THAT WE THINK ABOUT THE STUFF WE WRITE, HOW COULD HE???

Like, literally, that’s the furthest any of my angry, rage-borne DEMANDS have gone: I’ve asked people apply more personal accountability to their own creative works and not take their potential impact for granted just because they’re a fic writer rather than a published one....and oh yeah, not engage in perpetuating certain tropes or dynamics I consider toxic.

Now, anyone is certainly welcome to disagree with my take on any or all of those tropes, tendencies or dynamics being toxic....but to do so, like, you need to actually DISAGREE AND MAYBE EVEN TELL ME WHY. But the overall refusal to engage with any of my posts criticizing certain fandom tendencies regarding the characters, other than to make it about my overall toxicity and RAGE.....like, that means that I keep making posts that include specific examples for what I’m describing and why I think they’re toxic, and nobody’s actually made any kind of case for me being wrong in any of those posts? So.....its not actually gaslighting to try and convince people these things I bring up are toxic....when I’m actually including reasons and examples of the things I’m talking about in order to convince people, and I’m not actually ignoring, evading or misconstruing counter-arguments....because nobody’s actually making counter arguments in the first place!! That’s not fucking gaslighting, that’s called EXPRESSING MY VIEWPOINT ON A MATTER.

And for the record, like I said earlier, abuse is the perversion or exploitation of a power differential. Try all you want, but you can’t claim I have power over myriad specific individuals I don’t even know EXIST without them interacting with me directly....power that I’m then exploiting just by yelling at stuff on my blog. Yes I’m aware of my overall privileges as a cis and white man. But none of those change a damn thing about the fact that I’m not actually yelling at anyone in specific and people reading my posts have to decide for THEMSELVES whether the thing I’m pissed about is a thing they do before they can even CLAIM to feel at all ‘targeted’ by my RAGE (with me still not being able to tell from that who any particular individual this might apply to is, and also, THATS NOT EVEN THE POINT OF ANY OF MY POSTS)....NOR do any of my privileges negate the fact that every single one of you exists in varying physical distances from me, unknown to me, and I have ZERO power to compel you to even read my posts in the first place, or to keep you from exiting your browser or app or even just going ahead and blocking me to be sure you’re ‘safe’ from the big bad abusive boogeyman and his posts of Gaslighting and Rage.

Me venting on my own damn blog, even knowing that other people can see what I post and share it if they want, is NOT the same thing as screaming in your face and making you want to wince and hide, no matter WHO you are. It just literally isn’t. Doesn’t mean you can’t have a problem with my posts or my tone, it just means what it says. Its not the same thing, they’re not interchangeable or even comparable, because NONE OF YOU ARE A CAPTIVE AUDIENCE. There are NO possible consequences to ignoring, disagreeing with or just scrolling past my posts, firstly because THERE’S ZERO WAY FOR ME TO EVEN KNOW THAT, IF I EVEN CARED. Nobody, kid or adult, can ever HIDE from my posts, because that would first require MY POSTS EVER BE ABLE TO FIND THEM. Whatever the hell THAT even means.

You’re not my prisoners. You don’t have to be here. You’re not even ACTUALLY HERE. Nobody owes me an audience, and honestly, the lack of one wouldn’t change all that much because I babble on all the time about shit none of my followers actually care about, because I post for ME first and foremost, and people from there are welcome to do whatever they want to do with my content, or do nothing with it at all. I literally don’t care, other than thinking its shitty that so many people find my content worthwhile except and until I get critical of fandom behaviors at which point they only engage with it to make it all about ME and MY toxicity instead of anything I actually posted about. Which I then...gasp...vent about. How dare I be angry in the space I cultivated for myself online and other people chose to look in on by their own choice because rather than being threatened or bullied into doing so, they found at least something I’d said interesting enough to be worth listening to hear what else I might say.

I HAVE ZERO POWER OVER ANY OF YOU. At most my posts hold some weight for the people who think I generally have interesting or insightful things to say, but that’s literally it, and that’s the result of me having said things they find interesting and insightful overall. I can’t MAKE anyone do anything, if I’d ever even tried to make anyone do anything other than actually LISTEN to what I ACTUALLY am saying on certain subjects and CONSIDER IT. So if we’re going to throw words like gaslighting around so carelessly, we might want to hold that one up next to the phrase ‘fandom policing’ I so often get accused of....as though I’m any kind of actual authority with actual power to actually enforce any actual agenda I even actually have.

Which brings me to the last thing I want to touch on, which is my supposed moral righteousness, that oozes all over everything I post and drowns out any good points I have to make, which again, apparently is just in terms of fandom criticisms, since every other point I’ve ever made in fandom seems to come through just fine.

Like.....tbh, I don’t really know what to do with the many times I’ve heard people say I’m self-righteous and obsessed with my own moral righteousness. Considering like...I’m not shy about acknowledging my flaws, I know perfectly well I can be loud and angry and aggressive in my posts and have talked plenty before about not being super proud of that, I’ve never claimed to be a saint and I don’t think my actions and choices are the gold standard everyone should adhere to. In fact, the only time I make a point to state what *I* do or did or what *I* think or believe....is when its directly relevant to something critical I’m saying.

And you think that’s because I want everyone to be aware of how moral and righteous I am? Fucking please, if I were as self-absorbed as you people make me out to be when giving me shit, I just wanna know when you think I’d have time to squeeze out 10K of random Batfam meta every other day, instead of being busy finding new things to say about myself.

Literally the only reason I make a point to bring up my own behavior or choices when criticizing others is because PERSONAL ACCOUNTABILITY IS THE CORE THEME OF LITERALLY EVERYTHING I SAY IN THIS REGARD.

And you know what personal accountability requires? A willingness to acknowledge and address your own behavior. Which is why its kinda hilarious the consensus seems to be I’m too up my own ass to even be aware of my own behavior or actions, given that the literal actual reason I bring up examples of what I did or think when making posts about personal accountability....is to stress that REGARDLESS of what those things were, I think its important to not just be talking out of my ass. But rather to emphasize I hold myself to the same expectations I’m asking other people to consider, I’m putting it out there and on the record, here’s what I did relevant to this matter I’m talking about and why I made that choice....see, I’m not asking anything of anyone else that I don’t expect to be held to myself. ITS NOT ABOUT TRYING TO IMPRESS PEOPLE WITH MY MORAL RIGHTEOUSNESS, ITS LITERALLY JUST ME TRYING TO ESTABLISH I’M NOT LOOKING TO BE A HYPOCRITE IN THIS REGARD, SPECIFICALLY.

Like, is maybe that unnecessary and counter-productive? Could be, its something for me to think about some more, but gotta tell you, its a little hard figuring out what will and won’t work when I’m STILL waiting on the first time someone actually engages me on an actual criticism I’m actually voicing about fandom.

*Shrugs* Whatever. Like I said, I don’t even know if this post has a point beyond just getting this all out of my head, so whatever. Make of it what you will. People will likely still just keep viewing me however they already do, for better or worse. Oh well. C’est la vie. Its not the end of the world anymore than any other post I make is, no matter how much RAGE I imbue it with. As I’ve always said, that’s literally the only reason for any of the posts I make ever...I’m just getting them out of my head and down on paper, so to speak, in whatever mood I’m feeling while thinking about that topic. Yeah, I phrase things for a generic fandom audience most of the time, other than when I’m talking to someone directly, but never have I made a post with an entitled and expectant belief that people will take every word I say literally and regard it as a directive for what they should do and how they should live their lives. Since, y’know, I don’t actually think I should be the ruler of everyone’s choices. 

Over and over I keep repeating, I just want people to put more THOUGHT into their choices, and keep in mind various contexts that yeah, I think are relevant to certain topics, sue me. Because the vast majority of creative choices I take issue with, I actually fundamentally believe are just the result of a lack of thinking critically or with a broader awareness of various implications or repercussions. Shocking though this may seem, I’m actually a big believer that humans are inherently good or at least have the capacity to be.

The thing that amps up my frustration and ticks me off so often is how much time and effort I end up wasting trying to get people to address the actual things I’m asking them to consider, instead of dancing around it and evading it in every way possible, not even like, as an attempt to counter it, just willfully refusing to let it be about the topic I ACTUALLY raised.

And yeah, just FYI, to whom it may concern, since this is so often relevant it seems.....gotta say, I find it particularly odious that WITHOUT FAIL, the very same people who carelessly throw out ‘don’t like don’t read’ as the catch-all solution to every issue anyone ever might have with something in fandom, as though its that simple.....

Time after time demonstrate a COMPLETE refusal or inability to take their own damn advice, since NONE of this would ever even come up if the loudest advocates of that system actually APPLIED it themselves. 

And simply....didn’t read my posts.

I fail to see why I’m expected to do what they don’t consider worth doing themselves, to spare themselves the aggravation (or fear) from reading my posts. Let alone interacting with them.

But whatevs. When do I ever know what I’m talking about anyway, lol, on account of all this RAGE I’ve got mucking with my head and objectivity.

Oh well, gotta go. KALEN SMASH!

[fatbitchwrites-archived]

okay so i’m doing my senior thesis on game of thrones, sansa stark, and how tumblr users talk about her so i’ve been DEEP in the anti/sansa/stark tag and i have some things to fucking say

also, i don’t know or care about any leaks, this is mainly a response to the absolute fuckery in the tags right now. let’s fucking go, shall we

first of all, blaming her for things she did as a child is fucking stupid. yes, arya didn’t do these things. yes, dany didn’t do these things. they were different people. sansa and arya are different; that doesn’t make one bad and one good. this entire show is about moral ambiguity; neither one of them are perfect. she was a bratty kid who did what she thought she was supposed to do. “what she was supposed to do” saved her own ass over and over again. if you blame ned stark’s death on her instead of joffery, littlefinger, or cersei, you are out of your goddamn mind

second of all, she has the right to be pissed at jon. they won winterfell back - the battle wouldn't have been won without her and that’s just the fuckin tea. her entire arch for the past few seasons is about getting her home back, getting her autonomy back. she told him that dany would make him bend the knee and take the home that she just got back. he gave winterfell to a foreign queen. i personally think that she has more claim to the north than he does, but the north claimed him as king and like it or fucking not - she backed him. people said she was the one who was supposed to rule and she said that jon was their king and they should respect that.

also, i’m going to lose my fucking mind if someone says shit about her “undermining” anyone. despite the fact that many of her “teachers” were shitty, she does know what the fuck she’s doing. she knew that going south was a mistake, she knew that the food would become a problem if their armies suddenly doubled without anyone telling her, she knew that resting was in the best interest of fucking everyone. she’s a smart bitch, that’s just the tea on that. as the lady of winterfell and one of the two leaders responsible for getting winterfell back, she has every right in the world to share her opinion on it’s upkeep and independence. 

just bc she doesn’t agree with everything jon does doesn’t mean she is undermining him. just bc she doesn’t agree with dany doesn’t mean she is undermining her. sansa is advocating for the 

third of all, her being weary of dany is absolutely 100% justified. i’m not going to discuss ships bc this is not what this is fucking about. this one is going to be a while, so settle the fuck in. 

sansa is traumatized - by cersei, joffery, littlefinger, lysa, ramsay. the fact that she doesn’t trust someone calling themselves queen - esp without living or understanding the culture and history of the country she is going to rule. dany clearly doesn’t know jackshit about some of the houses she’s trying to bend to her will or understand their fear of her house in general. 

not to mention, another smarty pants on the show said something like - anyone who feels the need to call themselves queen/king clearly isn’t one so fucking take that as you will bois

also, jumping back to the first episode of this season with the whole “whatever they want” bullshit; dany straight up admitted that the dragons were a danger to the people of the north and her own armies. she showed everyone that the dragons and dany are unpredictable. that was a fucking power move by dany and it backfired. 

not to mention, dany has consistently threatened sansa over and over again throughout this season. sansa has every fucking right to be pissed about that. she didn’t bow to dany, the north didn’t bow to dany - having a targaryen come in and threaten her in the home that she has been fighting to get back since SEASON FUCKING ONE is more than enough reason for her to get fucking pissed. so yeah, sansa has reason to not like dany. the whole idea that her dislike of dany is not warranted is absolute fucking horseshit.

and dany didn’t save the north out of the decency of her heart, let’s get that fucking crystal clear. dany is an aspiring monarch who wants to rule over the seven kingdoms and she couldn’t have done that if the seven kingdoms’ people were all fucking dead. so sansa and the north aren’t “ungrateful” for dany. dany did what she did to preserve the country she hopes to rule over. she didn’t want to be the queen of the ashes or frost or bones or whatever the fuck. i’m not even saying that’s a bad thing - it makes total sense that she would want to do that but for the love of god, stop acting like she did this bc she’s such a good person. she did it for herself and for the kingdoms she wants to rule over. yeah, jon convinced her there was a threat and that’s why she felt the need to move forward but it was a self serving move. that’s fucking it. 

to be fair to dany, jon also convinced cersei of the danger and she didn’t actually care bc she has always been fine being the queen of the ashes or frost or bones. so, yes, i will admit that dany did better than cersei did.

fourth, the little bird conversation pissed me the absolute fuck off. it’s lazy and problematic writing. there is a whole bunch of other people who discussed it more eloquently than i can atm so plz go read those. 

fifth, as for the whole oathbreaker thing - get the fuck over yourself. brienne said it best - this isn’t about loyalty or oaths, it’s about survival. i understand this was in reference to the long night and the war aginst the NK but it still applies. all the signs are pointing to dany going full mad queen and sansa is going to do whatever it takes to ensure the survival of her people. and honestly, in my opinion, the benefits of this might vastly outweigh her telling tyrion. dany is going to burn hundreds of thousands of innocent people to get to cersei and if this is the start to her reign, what is end? sansa doing what she did could save so many innocent people.

also, when the fuck have y’all given half a fuck about the religious honor and shit of GoT?? like i’m sorry, you don’t get to worship arya for the whole god of death thing if you’re going to condemn sansa for not honoring the weirwood tree. fuck off with that absolute bullshit. 

ALSO IF I SEE ONE MORE PERSON SAYING THAT SHE’S A SHAME TO THE STARK NAME OR A DISAPPOINTMENT TO NED STARK, I WILL LOSE MY FUCKING MIND. she is doing whatever the fuck she needs to do to protect her family. she has lost nearly everyone in her family and until theon told her otherwise, she thought she has actually lost everyone. now that she found it, she’s going to protect it. she is the reason jon even fought for winterfell and she is the reason they got it back. she is finally back in her home and with her family and you think she is going to risk that?? she is a fucking stark and you all can fuck off.

also, ned stark did everything he could to preserve his family, to keep them safe - and in the time and setting he was protecting them in, he lied to keep jon safe. in this context, keeping her family safe is vastly different than it was with ned. dany has shown on multiple occasions to want sansa out of the picture, who is going to be the future of house stark. if sansa is half as smart as anyone thinks she is, not to mention if she can read jon, she knows damn well that dany isn’t happy with jon having a stronger claim and can probably tell that she might do something to make sure he could never take the throne to begin with. letting someone else know - like tyrion or varys - means that there is some insurance policy on jon. dany can’t fucking off him or have him killed or some shit without cause now that other people know what’s going on. 

about the future of house stark comment - bran, as the three eyed raven, cannot and does not want to rule winterfell; also, dany seemed pretty fucking pissed with bran bc he knew too much so.... also arya has shown no interest in ruling winterfell. jon, as it stands right now, doesn’t have the stark name. the actual name of house stark will fall to sansa. 

sixth, “sansa is conspiring against dany so fuck her.” HA BITCH, what the fuck do you think dany is doing???? what the fuck do you think everyone in this goddamn garbage fire of a game is doing??? i personally don’t consider her pulling a varys and doing what she can to protect winterfell and her family (and the realm indirectly) is conspiring to do shit but we can fucking go this route if you want bois. 

there is a theory that dany was planning on legitimizing jon as a stark, like she did to gendry, to get sansa out of the way as a political rival and i think that’s def true. whether or not that was her plan to begin with doesn’t matter; she sees sansa as a threat and we’ve seen the lengths she’s willing to go to if it means eliminating a threat. dany even said that she’s also clever and learning how to play the game of wits instead of just using force. that implies that she’s planning on doing more of that shit. she is absolutely conspiring; so is tyrion, and varys, and arya, and cersei, and jaime, and literally everyone. except maybe jon??? i personally think political!jon might be a thing but also the manbun boi has been proving to be just as pretty and dumb as we all knew he was going in. 

seventh, “sansa admitted to wanting to be queen” yeah in season one, when she was starry eyed and a fucking child. but yeah, shit on her and not dany. it’s not like dany says “i’m the queen” every fucking five seconds. clearly, sansa is the real power hungry one for wanting to be the lady of winterfell and keeping her fucking family safe.

eighth, i wan to thank all of the antis in the tag bc you are absolutely proving my fucking hypothesis that most, if not all, of the hate centered around sansa is rooted in sexism and femmephobia. it’s been absolute hell dealing with all of your comments but i truly owe y’all for proving that to me

[angeltriestoblog]

I took an online course!

Hello, and welcome to my first proper post under the #quarantingz tag: a little series where I chronicle all of my virtual endeavors and adventures in the time of COVID-19. Through this, I hope to achieve the following (research paper ka, gh0rl?):

Share what I’m doing with all of you guys, since it’s much easier than messaging and video calling you all one by one to confirm that yes, I am alive despite my inactivity on Messenger;

Hold myself accountable so I strive to find ways to keep myself occupied instead of sinking back into stagnancy;

Inspire you to pick up a hobby or try something out while we’re all cooped up indoors! I’ve seen a lot of my friends post that they’ve been getting so bored that even sleeping seems like a chore to them, but the four walls of your room present more opportunities than you think. Let’s try them out together!

And before anything else, it’s worth mentioning that this pandemic is not a productivity contest and we should not feel pressured into making or being the Next Big Thing. But, I believe there’s nothing wrong in seeking structure for one’s self-improvement if your mental health is up for it!

Ok. [START]

During the early weeks of the pandemic, online classes were still ongoing for students at my university, and needless to say, I was not having it. I was already worried enough about the possibility of contracting a life-threatening virus, and on top of that, I had to decipher lessons I could barely understand in a face-to-face set-up, and submit a paper on it that was worth half my grade. But thankfully my university opted to exercise cura personalis—“care for the entire person”, individualized attention to their needs—towards those who lacked the resources needed to keep up with the demands of e-learning. So, they cancelled the rest of the semester! I was filled with relief because as necessary as it might have been to stay on track, it was not an effective way to facilitate learning and retaining of information.

Which is why it’s kind of ironic that one of the first things I did once I realized I had so much free time on my hands was sign up for an online class. *cricket noises*

A friend had sent me a viral listicle of 500 free Ivy League courses. I guess a lot of people had looked at the indefinite quarantine period available at their disposal as an opportunity to learn something new! And well, I couldn’t help but join along, especially since Harvard was my dream school growing up, and they were offering hundreds of programs for me to choose from. (Sorry, Ateneo. I did say otherwise on my application essay.)

Growing up, I had wanted to be an author-doctor-scientist-rockstar-supermodel. I consistently proclaimed this to anyone with ears, whether they liked it or not, with all the conviction my four-year-old body held inside. I hadn't the faintest idea which degrees I needed to get to make a livelihood out of these childhood fantasies, but I figured that if I was going to be a legendary multi-hyphenate, I’d have to come from the best university in the world. I also remember negotiating with my family members from the States that I would have to live with them while I was finishing my college education, not knowing how far their humble home in Orange Country, California was from Cambridge, Massachusetts. Reality inevitably took over—more like, held the reins on my ambitions—and I had to accept that there were several constraints in place that would keep me from studying there despite my desire to.

Well, that was until I chose to take up a course on rhetoric, the art of persuasive writing and public speaking under HarvardX! I picked this out of the several options because I believe learning to separate logic from emotional appeal helps me analyze an argument better and craft more well-informed decisions—definitely a skill we must have in our toolbox given today’s media landscape that is constantly inundated with fake news.

I was to learn about how arguments are structured and how rhetorical techniques are usually employed by dissecting a number of influential and prominent speeches in American history. I then had to apply these learnings in two major written requirements: an opinion editorial and speech, both on any topic of my choice.  

Every morning for a week and a half, I would wake up as early as 9:00AM—just when some people on my timeline are getting ready to go to sleep—and dive straight into my lessons. I decided to take on a module a day since each was pretty packed with information in the form of readings and videos. More often than not, the flow looked like this:

The transcript of an address by a prominent American figure: examples of which are Former Presidents John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan, as well as Martin Luther King, Jr. I would annotate this with my first impressions, opinions on any lines and ideas that struck me.

The background of the speaker and the context of the speech: This honestly contributed a lot to my understanding and appreciation of the material. Although I’ve heard of most of them through almanacs I’d read as a kid, I never knew the story behind them.

The key concepts of the module: These consisted of terms and examples, as well as how to make use of them properly and to my advantage. Examples of the topics covered were modes of appeal, kinds of reasoning, and logical fallacies (my favorite).

The transcript, again: For the second round, I would have to spot the concepts that were previously taught to me, in action. When I was fully drained of my brain juice, I had the option to view and respond to the comments of my peers, as well as the lecture notes of my virtual professors. I admit I didn’t get to interact with any of my fellow students: majority of them were from different timezones. I would occasionally creep on the forums, look at the replies my peers would leave, and see I was in the presence of people from Brazil, Mexico, the United Kingdom, and Australia.

Videos of actual lectures regarding the reading, held by the professor: This course is an online version of an existing in-person Harvard class called "The Elements of Rhetoric". Probably the best part of the daily lessons, because it felt like I was also sitting in, watching his students recite from the other side of the room.A quiz on the topics discussed: Very easy, and you get two attempts before you submit your final answer so it’s almost always a sure pass.

As I mentioned a while ago, there are two major outputs to be submitted and they involve a lot of writing and preliminary research. (I personally wouldn’t recommend this to you if you don’t derive pleasure from activities of that sort.) In an attempt to shed a light on a timely issue, I wrote my op-ed on the steps the Philippine government must take to rehabilitate our healthcare sector, and my speech on the use of social media as an effective political tool amid a crisis such as this. The last one was a requirement I had done for my Comm subject, which I tweaked for the sake of formality.

The op-ed was subject to self-evaluation: I had to answer questions on whether my submission met the set criteria or not and give proof as to why I thought so. The speech, on the other hand, was graded by two anonymous peers, who gave encouraging remarks and cited points for improvement. Although I knew I gave my best, my final grade was very much dependent on what they thought of my work so I was a bit nervous. Thankfully, everything went well: I got a perfect score on almost every component and secured a certificate of completion (which I had to pay for, but looks great on my Linkedin, if I do say so myself).

Overall, I enjoyed a lot and found the learnings I picked up to be useful. The ideas might seem abstract but the building blocks of rhetoric pepper even the minutiae of our daily conversations, whether we're aware of it or not. All of us engage in discourse and form our stances on issues using emotion, authority, or hard facts. We elaborate on them by stating the general premise then delving into specific examples, or the other way around. Our last resort tends to be a form of character assassination, faulty generalization, or leading question. The list goes on! I don't think I can speak or listen without policing someone in my head!My response towards this experience is a far cry from how I felt towards my required online classes for school, it's true. But, there are several factors that differentiated both of them.

I was able to choose what I wanted to study. No Quantitative Methods or Computer Science being forced down my throat (although I am revisiting my lessons in those respective subjects after I’m done with everything else I want to do, because I remember my parents paid for those). I am free to invest in areas outside the scope of my degree and gain key insight from the most reputable institutions around the world. I have the luxury to study to test something out, to see if it’s simply a hobby or a potential minor/double degree/career trajectory. If I find out after a few sessions that it’s not my cup of tea, I can easily unenroll and move on. Trying to do that in college would lead to disastrous consequences.

Another thing I liked was the freedom I had to go through everything at my own pace, mull over what I wanted to write for as long as I needed to, rewind and go back to parts in the videos that I liked. Additionally, if I wasn’t in the mood to do anything productive on a certain day (it happens to everyone), I could easily do so without the fear of missing out on anything. I know that a handful of courses do require you to stick to a schedule but everything is still within a reasonable time frame.

Now, I understand that several things are chipping away at our (deteriorating) focus right now. It’s hard enough when school demands so much of our energy—I remember my Quant prof had offered to teach us once via Zoom and though if we were only preoccupied with Netflix and trashtalkan groups back then, we collectively decided to ditch him. But, if you’re determined and committed to learning for leisure purposes, here are some tips that helped me hold myself accountable!

Tidy up, both physically and mentally.

Find a workspace that is conducive to learning. In the absence of a desk in a bedroom, the living room couch or the dining table when no one's eating meals are suitable alternatives. As long as there is a constant source of light, little to no noise, and a simple set-up that minimizes the chances of you leaving your work, it should be perfect!

And while we’re on that note, eliminate distractions. I only had my notebook, pen, and correction tape on the table along with my laptop: I made use of the Forest app regularly as well and now I have a nice collection of various shrubs and trees. I even put my phone on top of the cabinet, God knows my sedentary lifestyle keeps me from exerting the effort needed to stand up and reach for it.

If you aren’t sure that you can devote your full attention to the task at hand, get someone you trust to help you! I update my mom that I’ve been studying and fill her in on my progress not only because I am naturally predisposed to telling her everything going on my life, but also so she can help keep me on the right track and ensure I do my work.

Take it seriously.

Allot a specific time of the day for it. That way, it’s easier to integrate it into your routine and stop you from bailing halfway. For me, it's not advisable to go at it early in the morning, because your mind won't be ready to process anything of that scale. But, it has to be one of the first tasks of the day so you can avoid putting it off in favor of whatever your subconscious feels is more interesting.

Take notes when needed, complete the assigned activities seriously without consulting other sources, and participate in the forums as a substitute for recitation! Be the star student you wanted to be, but were probably too shy to turn into for the fear of being smart-shamed by your peers!

Try to see the purpose in what you’re doing.

In my case, it gave me the motivation to finish it so I could apply it in real-life situations and make the necessary changes in my behavior and habits.

This definitely isn’t the last online course I’m taking: as a matter of fact, I have a couple lined up! I’m currently working my way through something on strategic planning by this website called Culture and Creativity. Although the material has been tailor-fit to address the social and economic development of countries in Eastern Europe, the concepts can easily be utilized in local contexts. Here’s a list of other programs that caught my eye while I was browsing the different catalogs across other platforms.

Investor Pitching Course for Creative Businesses | Culture and Creativity

Applied Psychology: Introduction to Consumer Behavior | Alison Courses

Marketing Analytics | edX

Transformational Leadership | Alison Courses

Global Trends for Business and Society | Class Central

Wishing you all the love and light the world can offer at a time that can be as apathetic and dark as this one. Wash your hands, pray for our frontliners, and check your privilege!

[itispossibleihaveissues]

Another Perfect Catastrophe -3

(yes, already, lol)

AUTHOR: Mikimoo PAIRING: JayDick RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Non Consensual drug use, Non Consensual touching, Non Consensual kissing, humour, slight mayhem

SUMMARY: Dick goes undercover as himself in order to catch a gang of international thieves. Jason reluctantly tags along as his long suffering bodyguard. During the ensuing mayhem they get to know each other again and build a few bridges.

Thank you to burkesl17 for the beta!

Notes: An embarrassingly long time ago, the amazing and very, very talented Pentapus invited me to do a reverse bang style exchange, and drew me an amazing prompt. I have no idea how this story was the one that emerged from the many options I had, but such is the creative process I guess! Anyhoo, many thanks to Pentapus for both encouragement and patience, and of course the incredible art! (which will be included at the end of the appropriate chapter)

Chapters: 1, 2

It was a long week. And they were only three days in – the party scene was twice as exhausting as being a teenage vigilante juggling school, social engagements and crime fighting at once. Jason was reaching the end of his ability to cope with stupid young socialites and rich freaks with wandering hands.

Today's exercise in restraint was a party in the trendy East End, an area steeped in interesting history, that Jason would have liked to explore in other circumstances. Instead he was hovering on the edge of a dance floor, watching Dick writhe and twist to the music like some sort of incubus. He was mesmerizing and had drawn a lot of interest, people wanted to dance with him, to touch him and sometimes cop a feel. If Jason had been a real bodyguard, he probably would have torn his hair out by now, but as it was he just grit his teeth and kept his eyes peeled. That and fend off the advances of sleazy rich folks who were after him instead. It wasn't clear if they were attracted to his body, poured into the stupid tiny T-shirts, or to the air of danger he was attempting to give off. Either way he seemed to be like catnip to them.

Of course, they also approached him to get to Dick.

“Must be a bit boring for you, no?” Someone said at his elbow, and he looked down at the young woman smiling up at him. She dropped a slim, white hand to rest on his folded arm. “Having to stand around and watch while he has all the fun.”

Jason shrugged. “It's fine. I get paid for it.” He looked a little closer at her; perfect hair perfect teeth, whip thin in her designer dress. She looked about as dangerous as a kitten, but there was something about her that still pricked at Jason's senses. And if there was one thing he had learnt at Bruce's side it was that even the most innocuous, tiny woman could still be hiding a death ray in her oversized purse.

“You don't get jealous?” she asked slyly, smiling up at him, somewhere between mocking and seductive.

“Nope. He can do what he wants, as long as I get my check at the end of it.”

“How very mercenary of you.”

“It's a job, pays better than flipping burgers. And I get other perks too.” Jason deliberately kept the inflection out of his voice, but he could tell he had her intrigued.

“I bet you do. Well then, do you think you could make an introduction for me? I do so hate the dance floor, too much sweat and body odor.”

“Who should I say wants to meet him?”

“Celia Denbury,” she said with the air of someone who expected to be recognized. The name meant nothing to Jason, so he didn't bother to respond. Instead he took out his phone and texted Dick.

Girl wants intro, celia denbury? a15

The code just let Dick know she might be worth meeting, it could be nothing, but Jason trusted his instincts and they were telling him he was dealing with a predator of some sort. Of course it could just be her rich blue blood.

Over on the dance floor, Dick peeled himself away from the two women he was grinding with to check his phone. He typed quickly and then returned to dancing. A few moments later, Jason's phone vibrated in his hand.

After this song, babe

Obnoxious shit. “He'll be right over,” Jason told Celia. She didn't look impressed.

They watched for a moment as Dick danced, before Celia stepped away. “Send him to my table,” she said, pointing to where another young woman was sitting. She was beautiful and poised, with dark hair and eyes. As he watched a handsome blond man joined the table too.

Jason nodded and went back to staring at the throng of people surrounding Dick as impassively as he could. He was fairly sure the dance Dick was doing with the two hot girls was illegal in some states.

True to his word, when the song changed, Dick wound his way back over to Jason. When he reached him, instead of stopping and interacting like a normal person he threw his arms round Jason's shoulders and nuzzled into his neck. He was sweaty and gross and the experience of getting a full body hug off him should have been disgusting, but it wasn't.

“Ms Denbury and her attractive companions want to make your acquaintance,” Jason said into Dick's ear.

Dick shifted against him, his sweaty hair brushing against Jason's cheek. “Well let’s not disappoint them, lead on.”

They were introduced as Sofia, an Italian national, and Jack, a fellow American with a penchant for boasting about his daddy's oil business and political leanings. Dick grinned and flirted with all three while Jason stood silent and watchful to the side. He kept a particular eye on Denbury, she appeared to be the leader and was still giving off an unsettling vibe.

When they finally stumbled out of the club at five am, with promises to meet again the following evening, Jason was pretty certain this were the group they were after, or at least somehow connected to them.

Dick leaned against him tiredly as he hailed a black cab and Jason resisted the urge to lend him a supportive arm. He was an expert at faking drinking and drunkenness, but the sheer volume of alcohol consumed by the group meant he had imbued more than he normally would and was teetering on the edge of a genuine drunk.

“You holding up okay?” Jason asked grudgingly as the cab took them towards their hotel.

“Just about. I really hate these people,” Dick admitted. “And alcohol just makes me sleepy.”

“Well we can have a lie in tomorrow, we're not meeting the rich brats until close to midnight. We could catch a show or something, cause a bit of mayhem at the theatre.”

“Raunchy sex in the Royal Box?”

“Let's not get carried away, Dick-face.”

Dick chuckled and relaxed against him. “You think we're on the right track with these three?”

“Yeah, there's something about them that gets my back up – more than the usual feckless over spending and arrogance.”

“Same,” Dick yawned, wide like a cat and not bothering to cover his mouth. “We're working together quite well I think?” It was more of a question than a statement. 

“You're less annoying when you're drunk,” Jason said. Dick smirked but otherwise didn't react to his answer, so he left it at that.

 They met the Rich Brats at an exclusive members club after dinner and the theatre, Dick had slept through most of the production of King Lear, but Jason had enjoyed it. Entry to the club had been arranged by Garner who had shmoosed with Dick and Sleezed at Jason until he had considered stepping on Garner’s foot by accident and maybe breaking a few toes with his steel capped boots.

The club was dark and lit by candles, surely a fire hazard with all the drunk morons milling about. The furniture was also dark, with stained wood and black velvet. Private rooms consisted of huge sofas that looked more like beds, covered in gold trimmed cushions. The effect was plush and inviting, and also completely ridiculous.

Dick kicked off his shoes with the rest of them and sprawled over the sofa like he belonged there. His socks while both blue, were also slightly odd, it was likely he had just flung his clothes into his suitcase without matching them. It was irrationally irritating to Jason, who scowled at the offending footwear.

 After an hour of watching them flirt and boast Jason was ready to set the place on fire. He was keeping himself entertained by obsessing over Dick's sock based transgressions, but even that had worn a little thin. If these mooks didn't take the bait soon he was going to just shoot them and let that be the end of it. Thankfully, Celia seemed to be finding Richard Grayson a little grating, judging by the set of her jaw and seemed keen to reel him in as quickly as possible.

“Richie, darling,” She smiled up at him as he waved his hands about in apparent drunken abandon. “We're having such fun together, I don't want it to end!”

She didn't look like she was having fun, she looked like a cat looked at an unsuspecting but infuriating mouse.

“It's been a riot!” Dick agreed, his hair was a mess, and his cheeks were flushed with the champagne. They had agreed that Jason was going to have to be his bodyguard for real, as getting tipsy was unavoidable. Dick had been shamefaced, like he was admitting some great weakness instead of taking sensible precautions, it had made Jason want to kick him, but now as he watched, he was alarmed to find himself feeling fond.

Celia leaned in, with an artfully placed hand on Dick's wrist. “We have a house by the coast. It's one of daddy’s smaller estates. We were going to go spend the week there. Have some drinks, perhaps get high. Would you like to join us? Even just for a weekend. I'm sure we'll have fun.” The way she drew out the word left little to the imagination in regards to the type of 'fun' on offer.

“We'd love to, wouldn't we, Jase?” Dick grinned at Jason drunkenly, but his eyes were sharp and suddenly clear.

Unsure of how to reply Jason just grunted in acknowledgement.

“Why don't you give Jase the week off?” Sofia said, leaning into Dick's space and practically oozing sex at him. She was hot. Very, very hot, and in other circumstances she was the kind of girl Jason would expect Dick to go for, but in these circumstances it felt like confirmation they were on the right track Why else make the bodyguard/boytoy stay behind?

“Nah, I mean, why not let him join in the fun? He's certainly earned it! And he's up for it, aren't you, Jase?”

“Sure,” Jason agreed non-committally.

Jack leaned forward on Dick's other side and ran a hand up his thigh. “If that's the sort of thing you're after, I'm sure I could provide,” he said.

Dick grinned stupidly at him, “Why not both!” he said, giddily, “You might enjoy it too.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper, “His cock is as big as the rest of him.”

Jason was glad of the dimly lit room as he was fairly sure he was embarrassing himself by blushing.

“Well,” Celia began, obviously not pleased with Dick's obliviousness.

Dick waved a hand at her before she could object, “It sounds like a blast, let’s do it! A week by the great British coast, blue sea, white sand...it will be wonderful!” he said.

Jason thought Dick might be being a bit optimistic about the state of the English coastline, but found he really enjoyed the expressions of exasperated irritation on the gang’s pretty little faces. They didn't know Dick had been trained by the best - nobody could drive people to the edge of despair by the power of being incredibly annoying the way Brucie could when dealing with his peers. But Dick had been a good study.

“So is this place the Denbury Estate? Or does it have a quaint name? I hear the British like to name their houses,” Dick slurred at her with a toothy grin. Jason got the distinct impression he enjoyed getting up her nose and making her jaw twitch with suppressed anger.

“Pheasant Field Estate.” She looked aggravated, but resigned.

“Amazing! More drinks?”

 “We'll do some research, see if this lot are who they say they are,” Dick said before flopping back on the bed. “Or we could just get Tim to do it. Hanging out with that bunch of vipers is more exhausting than doing patrol until 5am and then getting up for work at 8.”

“Poor you, drinking champagne worth more than the entire contents of my apartment. Boohoo.” Jason kicked his boots off and lay on the plush bed next to Dick, flipping open his laptop to get to work.

Dick gave him the finger, but did pull his tablet over from where it had been discarded on the nightstand. “Fine, you take Jack, I'll have a bash at Celia. They we can both attempt Sofia, I don't think my brain can cope with translating Italian records.”

“That's what google translate is for, Dick” Jason said snidely, as he began his own search.

 They worked in silence for an hour, before Jason felt he had enough information to share. He was pretty certain they were right about these people. “I've checked up on Jack, and frankly, he's either a complete fantasist or a shit liar.”

“Possibly both?”

“Probably both. What have you got?”

“I have Celia Denbruy. There are records of her existence and her attending Cambridge University, but there are no images of her in most of the official records I could find. She has plenty on Instagram, but it’s all fairly new, only a couple of months old. Although it is made to appear older. And ‘Pheasant Field Estate' has no records going back more than a month, despite it having a web page and an entry on wiki. In fact a reverse image search shows the house in the picture is actually a seventeenth century mansion house called Seaville, available to rent for days or weeks for up to twenty guests. For a very large sum, of course.”

“Spend money to get money. I think these are our guys. Ready to pass a week of fun times with them, Richie?”

“Yay, I can't wait,” Dick sounded like he would rather be getting a root canal. ”There is something that's bugging me though,”

“That this is all a bit sophisticated for these bunch of fools?”

“Yeah, I feel like they're bait rather than the masterminds of million dollar thefts. And there's real anger and sadism behind the attacks that follow, something I didn't really get from them.”

“Celia, or whoever she is, she's cold. I could see her being into it.”

“Maybe, I don't think she would care about people getting hurt, or doing the hurting herself to get what she wanted, but I feel like her interest is with the money. She's mercenary, but not an outright sexual sadist.”

“I guess we'll see.”

“I guess we will.”

[mermaidsirennikita]

are you an art historian? sorry if I got that detail wrong but I was wondering if you knew how people know the identity of a person in a portrait? For example, how do you know if a medieval portrait is of the queen or a noble and not an imaginary person or someone unknown? sorry if my question makes no sense

No, it’s a good question!  And I wouldn’t call myself an art historian yet, but I’m a tentatively aspiring one.  I might be one later if I do a fuckton more research and/or… get up the energy for grad school.  But I have my B.A. in art history!

SOOOOOO, spiel below.

Unless there’s an inscription, note, title, etc. written on the portrait it’s technically impossible to be 100% beyond a shadow of a doubt sure about a sitter’s identity…  I actually ranted about this eons ago because people on Tumblr are super desperate to find new portraits of Anne Boleyn (why Anne?  why not literally any other famous lady whose face has been largely lost to history?  because she’s Anne Boleyn, and since several probably authentic images have not proven that she’s super foxy hot people are looking for something that will).  It usually takes years for art historians to come to a consensus about the identities of unidentified sitters, and EVEN THEN, people still argue about it.  I’m sure this painting of Mary, Queen of Scots took tons of effort to uncover and based on what little I’ve read there’s great reason to believe that’s Mary (it even looks like other images we have of her) but I’m sure someone will write an article about how it’s REEEALLY someone else entirely.  I researched Lady with an Ermine by Leonardo da Vinci for my capstone project, and even tho we have letters from Cecilia Gallerani, a mistress of the man most likely to have commissioned the portrait, saying “yeah so you have this portrait of me painted by Leonardo when I was younger” clearly referring to Lady with an Ermine… but there will still be outliers who say it isn’t her.

So.  In more conclusive cases, there will usually be records in place that let us know that a portrait was commissioned in the first place.  In the case of Isabella d’Este, we know that she was after Leonardo to paint her portrait and that it never happened but was in the planning stages–which leads to the conclusion that there are probably preliminary drafts in existence.  You find a preliminary draft of a woman matching Isabella’s general description and age, dating to the right time…  You can probably guess that the woman is Isabella.

Today, we also have technology that can help us guess how old a work is–it’s way harder for forgers to do what they once did because art historians can test for pigments and other materials that were only in use for certain time periods, and that helps narrow down the era.  Before then, there were stylistic notes that could give you an idea of when a painting was made.  For example–prior to the popularization of the three-quarter pose by artists like Leonardo, female sitters of Italy were usually in profile.  So if you find a portrait of an Italian lady sitting in a three-quarters pose, you can probably date the portrait to the late fifteenth century or later–and then you go into things like her style of dress, etc.  Style of dress goes a long way towards identifying a person’s place of origin, especially for women–English women dressed very differently from Italian women of the same era, and so on.

Most European portraits were of a certain class, up until some artists and patrons started playing around with everything from idealized peasant scenes to like... the proto-gritty shit Rembrandt dabbled in.  This is especially true for Catholic nations.  You had to be AT LEAST of the upper middle class to afford to commission a portrait, and for that matter, many artists tended to court a certain specified clientele.  Raphael spent much of the prime of his career working for the pope, and so that meant that he spent a lot of time in Rome, and that in turn meant that he was often in the service of glittery rich Romans.  Now, does this mean that the sitter is always rich?  No.  Raphael also painted a famous nude, La Fornarina, and the sitter was quite possibly his lower-class mistress.  But in that case, the person commissioning the painting was probably a rich guy who wanted a nude, and Raphael was like “fuck yeah getting a chance to paint Margarita naked and get paid for it, life is sweet”.  Patrons normally had $$$, basically, so if we see a typical portrait we know that we’re looking at that class, most likely, and the more expensive the portrait looks, the richer the sitter (and the patron) likely was.  Rarer pigments indicate more money spent, more detail on the clothing equals greater $$$.

When it comes to incredibly important families, there are spmetimes dead giveaways.  Bronzino’s portraits of Cosimo de’ Medici I’s household often featured details like rubies and pearls among the women, which one art historian I read from theorized was a signature of the Medici at that point in time.  It wasn’t unusual for women in particular to wear emblems of their families, because the portraits of them were usually commissioned by fathers or husbands, and essentially these were ownership tags.  That’s what Cosimo was doing, most likely.  If you know the artist–in this case, Bronzino–you probably know where they worked at a certain point in their lives.  If you know when the painting was executed, you know the artist was probably in X city.  Who would be most likely to employ Artist X during that time?  A small cluster of families.  You sort of have to narrow it down.  Most important families of Europe also had coats of arms, which can show up in their paintings–but unfortunately these are often the first to deteriorate and they begin to look similar.

When an artist was painting a famous sitter like Mary, they might include her initials somewhere, maybe in the case of a king or queen with a good Rex or Regina for measure.  Kings and queens are often given little identifiers, too, though these aren’t always consistent.  In several portraits of Mary her hands are emphasized because beautiful hands were prized at the time, Mary was considered a beauty, and so on (also Elizabeth’s hands were rumored to be scarred after her bout of smallpox, and whether or not this was exaggerated I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a dig after her reign began).  Mary is also often depicted in widow’s wear; now, this doesn’t mean that she wore those clothes often, but she was an iconically beautiful young widow after her first husband died, and then she *oh so tragically* lost another…  A lot of artists probably worked off of one painting Mary actually sat for in widow’s wear to have shopped around to potential suitors.  From what I read of this newly discovered portrait, Mary probably never sat for it; it was a tribute/propaganda piece by a support, and most likely the artist was working off of copies.

It’s kind of like how many portraits of Elizabeth I during her reign depict a few of the same things; grand red hair, magnificent clothes and jewels, flawless skin, dark eyes, the same basic facial features.  Did Liz have the time to sit for umpteen portraits?  No!  And she didn’t want to.  She didn’t want the reality of her aging appearance, she wanted the iconic Elizabethan image circulated, and so it was.  Art historians can later pick up on the commonalities between these propaganda pieces and figure out who they’re of.

In the case of this newly discovered work, I imagine the art historian also did a lot of research about the patron’s potential ties to Mary, the political climate at the time, whether or not the artist had materials to work from regarding Mary’s appearance, and so on.  Like I said, the painting looks like Mary, though that… doesn’t necessarily mean much–but the eyes are similar to the other portraits we see, the profile is right, her hair is styled as it was in other paintings, the outline of the clothes seems fine.

Basically, there is soooo much that goes into “proving” a sitter’s identity and even then you’ll never be 100% right in the eyes of everyone.  For years, people thought a portrait was of Katherine Howard, and recently that was debunked.  Everyone shops that portrait of a blond lady with one tit out as Lucrezia Borgia; it’s not.  Identifying people is cool but for a lot of art historians it’s somewhat irrelevant, because we’re more looking at what a portrait reflected about the times and that’s why Mary’s identity IS relevant in this particular case.  Going back to the Secret Anne Boleyn Painting conspiracy theories–people just wanna see a hot Anne there, and that’s what’s frustrating.  By showing us Mary here, this art historian has also given us an example of people showing their support for this embattled queen through propaganda commissions, and for that matter getting scared and covering it up.  That speaks to the political, social, and cultural goings-on of the time.

Some art historians love to find SEKRIT IMAGES because that sells books, but when you ask a lot of professors “do you think that’s a portrait of JANE SEYMOUR” or whatever they’ll probably be like “eh idk man”.  The identity is less important on its own than it is as it relates to the reasons by a commission.  I mean in my case the identities of portraits I studied in school were only really relevant in that I was able to discuss the political constructions that wives and brides became in one Italian court.  Otherwise identity didn’t matter at all.  And tbh, that ambivalence towards identifying people probably makes it even harder for the art historical world to come to a consensus on ANYONE.  But this new discovery sounds pretty solid and honestly, it’s really cool.

[intotheblackhq]

( Maxence Danet-Fauvel, 25, male ) Word around the quadrant is that (BOWIE RIESLING) is originally from (TYPHON), but has been on the Terminus for (SIX MONTHS). If you’re in a pinch, he is a talented (INVENTOR). Is that why he’s a (MECHANIC)? Anyway, everyone says he is (+PATIENT) and (+ADAPTIVE), but don’t get on his bad side because he’s (-DEVIOUS) and (-OVERCRITICAL).  Oh shoot, don’t look now! He has his (HEAVILY MODIFIED GAUSS GUN) out! (ooc: rory, 22, cst, they/them, n/a) 

WORLD BUILDING:

—-> Name: Typhon 

—-> Located On: Bowie was lucky enough to be born in Alpha Sector on Typhon. 

—-> Brief Description: Typhon is a moderately sized and largely uncomfortable planet. Its surface is dry and harsh and just about uninhabitable. As a result, those who live on the planet do so solely beneath the surface. Alpha Sector is the Capital city of sorts and is the original settlement, but as the population grew, more Sectors were birthed- Beta, Gamma, and so on, all connected via underground roads. The planet has become a technological hub of sorts, with a society that revolves around engineering, tirelessly birthing new technology and working to improve that which already exists. It’s not the most self- sufficient place in the galaxy, but they are certainly more than rich enough to trade for offworld supplies.

ROLE DEVELOPMENT: 

—-> Important History:

I like the idea that Typhon is a planet that has, in times past, remained neutral in political affairs outside those within their own infrastructure. Their goal in the past has strictly been to bring their people to the next level, so to speak: Improving technology and lives along with it. Androids, cybernetic enhancement, likely dabbling with or creating teleporters if this is a canon that allows for it, etc., etc. Though I feel they would have been a worthy foe if they’d ever taken part in a significant dispute, through the ages, they’ve tried damn hard to keep their hands clean. It’s easy to see how their neutrality could be troublesome, though, considering the current state of things… but at the end of the day, if push came to shove, they’d do whatever it took to keep everything they’ve built from being destroyed. 

The fact that Typhon tries to keep themselves free of becoming entangled in offworld affairs doesn’t mean they don’t have a political structure of their own. Each of Typhon’s Sectors (the smallest of which is still home to upwards of 8,000 inhabitants) has a Council and a Mayor. Alpha Sector is home to the planet’s Chancellor. The current Chancellor is Bowie’s mother. The previous Chancellor was Bowie’s father. 

Seven years ago there was an uprising. It was quelled, of course, but not without devastating loss incurred. Bowie’s father, the former Chancellor Riesling, was just one of many who did not make it out alive. During the aftermath, his mother- the current Chancellor Riesling- was elected. Ever since then, things have been quiet, or so it would seem. Who knows what hushed, rebellious plans might be traded amongst the planet’s citizens?

—-> Headcanons: 

In the heat of that uprising seven years ago, Bowie’s mother had him shipped offworld. It wasn’t an easy decision, nor was it one she took lightly, but this was not the same planet he’d been born on, not anymore. He’d always been bright, and though she knew he could have been a valuable asset to the planet- both intelligent and creative- his safety was more important to her than what he might have potentially had to contribute, and with the way the tide was turning on Typhon, she thought he’d be better off somewhere else. Luckily, Bowie had always been independent and good at improvising. He hasn’t lived a luxurious life these past few years, but his talent in repairing things (or creating them, if he can get his hands on the right materials) was enough to get by until he landed his job as a mechanic on board The Terminus. He’s good at problem solving, and he’s good in a pinch- he thinks fast and he moves fast and he’s not afraid to tackle big or scary problems head- on. He’d been raised having access to experiment with his home planet’s most sophisticated technology, after all- you’ve gotta have brains if you don’t wanna get blown to bits, right? 

Unfortunately, he’s not as great with people as he is with machinery. He doesn’t mean to be an ass, but he doesn’t waste time tiptoeing around… which is to say he’s unapologetically blunt and can be quite indelicate in conversation. Tact isn’t a talent of his, and he’s not very interested in dealing with heavy emotions, whether they belong to him or anyone else. He’s not very good at forming strong connections with people, relationships that extend beyond the surface, and he’s not a very good listener. If he’s just supposed to be empathizing, not trying to solve a problem or fix something, he’ll probably zone out. If you want someone to drink and play cards with, though, sure, he’d be down for that.

A common misconception is that being blunt means he’s, well, honest. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’s not necessarily interested in being an upstanding individual, either. If theft, shady business or a white lie here and there helps him get what he wants, he doesn’t see the harm in it. He’s not rebellious, exactly, because he’s not invested in breaking the rules any more than he is in following them. He’s very much someone who will step out of line if and when it suits him. Low- key, of course… no sense getting in trouble. He’s not incapable of subtlety, and if people happen to assume otherwise because of how he seems to navigate social situations with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, well… that’s just an added layer of protection for him, isn’t it?

—-> Key Relationships:

Favorite Test Subject: This person gets access to cool shit that other people don’t, Bowie gets help having his prototypes field tested. It’s mutually beneficial, right? Well, as long as the prototype doesn’t blow up in their face… These days, I’d think his personal projects mainly consist of weapons (lightsaber inspired shit, anyone?! no?) but depending on which character(s) take on this role, we can discuss what sort of technology they’re helping him test. It would have to be someone he’s got some level of trust for, because he wouldn’t take a chance on someone he was worried would sell out or steal his tech or someone he wasn’t confident would be responsible with it. Could easily overlap with “Keep your friends close…”

Keep your friends close…: Someone who has managed to (or manages to- I’m not opposed to writing out their friendship from the start) form up a close, uncomplicated bond with Bowie, despite his previously mentioned general lack of social skills. Could easily be called ‘ride or die’ or ‘best friends.’ I’m just a sucker for those close platonic bonds that stay rock solid despite whatever other chaos is going around, despite whatever tests it. I’d really like to see him get close to someone like that, even though he likes to tell himself it doesn’t matter one way or another whether he has friends or not.  

…And your frenemies closer: In contrast, someone that Bowie actively just can’t stand who loathes him in return. Someone who has his hackles raising enough to try and raise theirs in return. They got off on the wrong foot, and that easily could have been due to something Bowie said or did when they first met. Either way, petty insults thrown at each other, sarcastic barbs, I’m here for all of it. 

—-> Wanted Connections: N/A!

ADMINISTRATIVE: 

—-> How Did You Find Us: Through the tags here on tumblr! I think #new rp? Or maybe the sci fi rp tag? 

—-> Anything Else: Here’s a Pinterest board I started for him! I know you guys are very collaborative and you don’t seem to be restrictive as far as creativity goes, but if there’s anything at all you’d like to be adjusted please let me know! :)

About time you showed up, BOWIE RIESLING, we were just about to take off without you. Stow your gear and make sure you send in your account and finish off the checklist within the next 24 hours, or else we might have to dump you out the nearest airlock. MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL has now been claimed. Oh yeah, did I forget to say welcome aboard? 

[kyberled]

☀ ♦ ♥ ☢ ✖

the salty af munday meme

☀ What’s your rp pet peeve? –> Ship forcing. This is literally the best way to get me to unfollow or even block another mun. I’ll explain what ship-forcing is below, but yeah, that’s one of them.

♦ What was a mildly annoying thing that has happened to you rp wise? –> See above. It happened once on my Warren blog, and once very recently on here. Now, a bit of a definition, here - I don’t see ship-forcing as asking me if I want to ship, or saying your muse has a crush on Braig - heck, that can be flattering (though I prefer if we know each other, first - it can get a bit uncomfy for me, kind of like virtual catcalling, I guess, when complete strangers tell me how attractive they think Braig is). I don’t see it as someone’s muse having feelings for Braig, one-sided or otherwise. All of these things are A-Okay, and can be quite fun, too! What I do see ship forcing is when someone asks if they can ship with Braig, and instantly, as soon as I say ‘we can give it a try’, deciding that our muses are suddenly soulmates, even if they’ve hardly said four sentences to each other, before. I see it as asking to ship, then immediately dropping the thread where they were actually in the process of meeting each other to have them now in the middle of a date, which, given the context of where, when, and how said date was taking place would likely have gotten them both killed. I see it as pestering Braig to do something ‘romantic’, having both Braig and I say no, he doesn’t want to, and the other person keeps pushing, regardless, or getting upset when Braig decides to respond with something not romantic and replying to that with some rude, snarky comment. ‘Uh, I think [muse] wanted Braig to do [X], actually’ - Yes, that has happened, before. I’ve been vagueblogged about, spammed on and off anon, been told I’ve made peoples’ depression/anxiety worse, had on-blog events ruined and muses killed and simply been harassed at all hours of the day because of ship-forcing and my trying to deal with it gently and politely, instead of just flat-out saying ‘no’ or ‘I’m not comfortable with this’. So, if it ever seems like I’m coming down too hard on someone in regards to shipping, I swear I don’t mean to come off as abrasive or rude - I just learned the hard way that you’ve gotta be blunt about your comfort zones or else things go south faster than a flock of geese on an adrenaline high. Basically, to sum this novel up: As long as you respect my boundaries, we’re good; if I haven’t told you you’re skeeving me out, we’re good. If I have told you you are, and you keep doing whatever it was, we’re not so good. 

☢ What fads/trends are you so over? –> I don’t really keep up with trends enough to know lmao. I mean I guess I’ve seen a few, but they don’t really bother me. You do you, and all… Though, I guess I never entirely understood the whole ‘personified objects’ thing? I mean, you do you, and all, but it just never  made sense to me.

✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started? –> It hasn’t, not really. I think the only real changes have been purely aesthetic, like small text,  contained themes, etc. I really don’t care what other people do, as long as they’re happy and not hurting anyone.

♥ What’s the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise?

[Under a cut for length]

Okay, so, I told two of my rp horror stories over on Xig, so I’ll tell my third one here. Since I gave the other two pseudonyms, we’ll call this one ‘Cheeper’. Cheeper was someone I had met when a mutual friend we’ll call Battery allegedly recommended my blog to them. Now, Battery was someone I had approximately zero problems with. Really friendly, sweet guy, talented writer, great sense of humour, one of my favourite people to write with. So, I figured, if Cheeper was a friend of Battery’s, they must be cool, too, right? … Wrong. So, things start out okay-ish, as they always do, but things get downhill pretty fast. Starts off with small things, like ignoring asks or dropping literally all of our threads without letting me know. And I understand wanting to drop threads or not being able to get to everything in your ask box, but when that happens consistently, it gets a little disheartening.

The next little thing was when they started making AUs of my muse, and expecting me to write them. Lemme say here that I am totally fine with people suggesting AUs for my muses. That’s where this blog came from, Rodi suggesting a Star Wars AU where another one of my muses was Obi’s padawan, so, again, I’m fine with AU prompts. What I’m not fine with is when someone writing a really detailed version of my muse without consulting me at all, and then expecting me to write that AU they made with no warning and no problems. Cheeper comes into my IMs listing this novel-length AU detailing not only how their muse changed, but how mine did, as well. Basically, the entire idea was that their muse, who in canon was a big tank-type character who had been straight-up abusive to multiple characters, and turned them into a small, fluffy little mage who was actually a good guy and hadn’t done any bad things, and was being forced to do the bad guys’ dirty work, whereas my muse… Was suddenly the abusive one. For absolutely no reason. In a way that not only completely contradicted all of my personal headcanons - all of which were posted and easily viewable on my blog - but also went against all of what canon had showed us about my muse, and quite frankly made me really uncomfortable. I mean, you’ve seen some of the stuff I’ve written, you know I’m down to write some pretty messed up stuff, but to straight up turn my muse into a child abuser, WITHOUT CONSULTING ME AT ALL, just so your muse can be the good guy? That doesn’t fly so well. On top of that, writing such a detailed version of my muse and expecting me to play it for you? Why not write it yourself? I mean like I said, I am thrilled with AU suggestions, but, hell, keep it to a sentence or two, tops. Let me experiment and develop my muse to fit the AU myself, thanks. … And, while these things were pretty irritating, especially when a few of them happened over and over again, it got worse.

A lot of the time, when I’m having OOC conversations to get to know another mun before we start writing together, I look for a sort of ‘spark’ or ‘click’ - something that shows this person and I are gonna get along. For a lot of people, including my favourite partners, this click is basically immediate - just this instant ‘wow, we’re gonna be good friends, this is great!’, and, for others, it takes a bit longer, and that’s totally okay! Some people take a while to open up, or maybe it wasn’t a good day for one of us, I totally get it, happens to me, too. How quickly the click happens has absolutely NO BEARING ON MY OPINION OF A PERSON WHATSOEVER. There have been I think only three or four times I haven’t clicked with someone - twice on Warren, once on Xig, and once here. If I message you first, send asks, tag you in things, like your posts, etc, we’ve clicked, don’t worry. Anyway, Cheeper was one of these rare occurrences where there was not only no click, there was the opposite of a click. At first I thought it was just ‘cause our first convo was a bit awkward - from what I remember, it was basically just ‘hi, My name is [Cheeper], I’m [Battery]’s friend and he recommended your blog so I thought I’d give you a follow’, you know, typical ‘hi, nice to meet you’ type thing, I didn’t think much of it. Unfortunately, that was the only pleasant conversation we had.

You see, Cheeper had the habit of starting conversations with some variation of ‘how are you?’. Doesn’t sound too bad, right? Well, in typical Canadian fashion, I always did my best to follow social protocol and be polite, and say ‘I’m good/fine/great, thanks, how are you?’, and, much like Han Solo, I learned that there are some situations you shouldn’t ask that question. Every time, without fail, Cheeper would say some variation of ‘bad’ or ‘horrible’, and proceed to dump literally all their life’s problems on me, and I mean all of them. I’m perfectly fine with letting my friends vent/rant to me as much as they need, and offering advice is a pass-time of mine. But, I had only known this person for- Less than a week, when this started (I hardly even knew their NAME I had to look it up on their blog), and they kept going on and on about some really personal shit, like hours of how they hated their job and school was stressful, and their family was aphobic and never used the right pronouns, literally everything about their personal life, no matter how private it was, just- Constant negativity, all the time. It was literally all they spoke about, ever. I don’t know anything else about them, just that their life was terrible and they decided to use me as some sort of verbal stress ball. Even if I tried to divert the conversation to a different topic, or just ignore them entirely, I’d still get floods of negativity and complaints. And what makes it even better? They had a frickin therapist! This person, who had a professional, trained therapist, would spend hours unloading all of their mental/emotional burdens on me, an untrained stranger who had only said ‘hi’ to them once. And, after they had dumped all their baggage on me, they’d say, ‘oh, gotta go, it’s time to go to my therapist’. And, honestly? That was the only time I felt safe to post on my blog. Yes, you read that right - it was the only time I felt safe to post on my own blog. I honestly could not make a post on my blog without Cheeper spamming my IMs with boatloads of stress-inducing negativity. And, call me selfish, call me insensitive, call me whatever you want, but, fuck, I had my own problems! I was in university, trying to get law school level grades, while working a part time job to try and help my family out when we were struggling financially, doing what I could to make sure there was enough food in the fridge for my younger brothers, trying to help my grandma take care of my grandpa, trying to keep up with my martial arts - which I have to do in order to keep my job - and trying to write multiple essays for both my younger brother and myself, as we were prepping for our black sash tests, but he was also trying to get into film school, so I’d volunteered to write the sash essays for him, and, let me tell you, I did not need to play counsellor to someone I didn’t even know on top of that. And, like I said, this happened constantly, and I’d get a new flood of messages every time I so much as hinted at being online.

And believe it or not, it got worse, Sakrine.

I remember there was one conversation we had (’conversation’ being used loosely, of course) towards the end of our interactions where Cheeper was complaining at me, as per usual, and mentioned how all of their friends were blocking them without saying why. Funnily enough, I was planning on blocking them soon, myself (probably should have done it a long time ago). But, lo and behold, right after saying how they were always getting blocked, Cheeper goes and says ‘but you’d never block me, so at least I have you. You’re my best friend, Jay’. And I’m sitting here really uncomfortable because, uh, no, we’re not best friends, and I have no idea what gave them that idea, since I never told them anything of the sort, and in fact barely spoke to to them at all, both because I didn’t much care for their company, and because I could hardly get a word in edgewise - and, even if I could, how does one respond to a total stranger badgering you for advice on how to deal with their family not handling their being out well? I’m not out to my family, and I don’t think I ever will be, so, again, how can I give that sort of advice to someone I don’t know?

About the time this was happening was when I met and was chatting with Rodi, who’s actually one of my best friends and the light of my life. Like I mentioned above, it was at her suggestion that I decided to make this li’l OC mess that we know and love here. He was originally gonna be a verse on my other blog, until I realised that I’d have tags for a Jedi verse, a padawan verse, a Sith verse, etc., and that was too many for one AU, so I made a sideblog. Then, after only a day of having that, and a bit of encouragement from both Rodi and Milla (my main Talon), I made this stand-alone blog for my son, and I was having a great time.

Cheeper, however, was not, and made sure I knew it.

Now, my muse for that blog had been steadily dying, mostly because of this, but also for a few other, more minor reasons, and I felt way more comfortable here, was having more fun, and generally just enjoying myself way more on this blog than the other, so, naturally, this is where I spent most of my time. Within a day or two of my neglecting Xig, Cheeper pops into the IMs to complain about me, to me. Yes, I am dead serious, this is an actual thing that happened. They start badgering me to go back to my other blog, and, I dunno if this has ever happened to you, but, it’s really disheartening. I explained to Cheeper that I felt more comfortable on this blog (though I didn’t tell them why I felt that way on Xig; Perhaps I should’ve), that I had more drafts and asks on this blog, and that I had more muse for this character at the moment, so I’d be spending my time over here, at least for a little bit. Their oh-so-eloquent response was, and this is a verbatim quote, ‘boo, you suck.’ And I had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, so I didn’t. I just sat there, staring, feeling an interesting concoction of shocked, annoyed, and offended. About a minute later, they added a ‘lol, just kidding’, and proceeded to… Continue… To complain about me, as well as about their life and still expected me to give them advice and solutions I didn’t have. I’ve never had someone act more entitled to my time and energy as this person did. 

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking - ‘they were probably just some kid, Jay, young people can be like that at times, you’re taking it too hard’, and, hey, I thought so, too. I was nineteen years old when this was happening; Cheeper was around 24 or 25. Yup, this person was about five or six years older than me, and a grown-ass adult the entire time. And like I said, they were constantly acting entitled to everything I did, like I owed them something. There was another time where I’d actually gotten a bit of muse for my other blog back, so I went on, answered a bunch of asks, slammed out some drafts, sent some memes, answered some IMs… It was a really productive evening for me. Once I was finished, I came back here and got a bit more done. Next morning rolls around, and Cheeper messages me with ‘I miss you, dude. You’re never on Xig, any more.’ I tell them that, actually I’d been on last night, for a few hours, at least. Their response? ‘Well, I wasn’t on.’, after which they kept complaining about how much they missed my muse and my writing. I get this was probably supposed to be flattering, but it really wasn’t? Especially considering that, while they were going on and on about how much they missed me and wanted to write with me, they were completely ignoring the THREE STARTERS I had written for them in the weeks leading up to this point. Hadn’t even given them a like, which I like to do to let someone know that, even if I’m slow as all Hell - which I tend to be - I have seen it, and it’s in my drafts. So, I mentioned this to Cheeper, said ‘you know, I have a couple starters for you on the other blog, why don’t you check those out?’ ‘Oh, I didn’t see them, I’ll give them a look.’ And then, blissfully, they stopped messaging. Little while later, a few days, I got another message from them (keep in mind I never contacted them or interacted with them first, since, rude as it may sound, I was kind of hoping they’d get the message), and once again they were whining about how I was never on Xig again, so I went to check the starters again, and… Still no notes. So I ask them about the starters, and they say ‘I couldn’t find them’. You know how I looked them up? [my blog’s url]/tagged/[cheeper’s url], and, bam. There they were. I told Cheeper this and even sent them the link to their tag. They said okay, that they’d check it out later, and started complaining about their life again. I was serious when I said this was the only thing they talked about, outside of basically harassing me to write with them. Few days later, they get on my case AGAIN for not being on Xig/not rping with them. I check the THREE FUCKING STARTERS again,  STILL NO NOTES. I ask, and ‘oh I just don’t have muse for them right now lol’. And I’m left sitting here like, okay, do you really want to write with me, or are you just mad I’m not dedicating all of my attention to you and your godawful AU muses? I mean, I have NOTHING against AU muses - that’s where this kiddo came from, after all - but AUS WHERE THEY PUSHED MY CHARACTER TO BE A FUCKING CHILD ABUSER WERE APPARENTLY ALL THEY HAD MUSE FOR. And my character was a moral fuckhead I admit but he WASN’T OVERTLY ABUSIVE THAT WAS ONE OF THE REASONS I WAS COOL PLAYING HIM AS THE ANTAGONIST HE WAS AND JUST. And as well, when I have no muse, it’s apparently a major fuckin’ disaster and they complain to the ends of the earth about it and go on and on about how I should still be writing that character and how much they miss me, but when THEY have no muse I have to accommodate it and make allowances and write with them anyway???? Like???

So anyway yeah they proceeded to ignore those starters for months, and every time I posted a new starter call,they’d like that, I’d post a starter, they’d completely ignore it, then come crying and complaining to me, berating me and all but sobbing about how much they missed me.

BUT IT GETS WORSE STILL, SAKRINE.

After a while, Cheeper starts asking me about Star Wars. And I’m torn between ‘fuck no, this is my new safe place, and I’m TRYING TO BE SAFE FROM YOU’ and ‘well maybe if they get into this series they’ll stop getting upset with me for not writing on a blog I have no muse for and am not comfortable on’. So they ask me what they need to watch to understand Star Wars. I tell them to watch the movies, since those are the unchanging canon, no matter what Disney did to the Legends material. Apparently they don’t even have the attention span for their favourite show, so they can’t watch the movies. They complain to me about that for a while, because apparently I care. I did not. I tell them that everything Star Wars - or at least, in the era I write in - revolves around those movies. I tell them they can just watch the PT (and explain what the different trilogies are) and that will get them caught up with where I write. Nope, can’t do that. So I tell them there are book versions of the movies they can read, instead, and there are also comics and stuff they can look into if that would be better.

Nope, don’t have the attention span for books.

Complain about that to me for a while, then ask what they absolutely HAVE to watch to understand. 

I tell them about the Clone Wars show, give them a link to the relevant KissCartoon page. They ask how long the show is - I tell them the number of seasons (mention that 6 is unfinished), and the average length of an episode.

Nope, don’t have the attention span for that, either.

They reiterate that they hardly have the attention span for their favourite show, and once again complain to me before asking me what the /HAVE TO WATCH/ to understand.

I tell them that they’re free to try interacting with my muse on their KH blogs, since I’m open to crossovers and still, for some ungodly reason, trying to be civil.

They keep asking about star wars.

I mention the video games.

Don’t have the attention span for video games.

So this person, who apparently can’t watch movies or TV shows, or read books or comics, or play video games, is asking me what source material they need to know to roleplay a Star Wars verse. 

I, as a last-ditch and mostly sarcastic effort, give them a link to Wookieepedia. I’m a terrible person, I know.

…

They don’t have the patience to look through the wiki pages.

I’m all but smashing my face against the keyboard now, while this person is COMPLAINING TO ME ABOUT HOW LONG STAR WARS IS. 

I mean I get it’s a lot but I tried to break it down?? And last I checked I’m not George Lucas like I’m sorry but it’s not my fault, my problem, or in my power to change? And I tell them it’s 40 years worth of worldbuilding and try to help them break it down again and they just KEEP FUCKING COMPLAINING.

And after like. Two hours of me trying to reason with them and help them out they say ‘I’m not even interested in star Wars, I just want to write with you’. 

And now, maybe I’m reading into it too much. Maybe I listen to too many narrated Let’s Not Meet videos too late at night. But holy shit, I have never felt like I had a legitimate stalker until that moment. It was one of the most uncomfortable things that has ever happened to me. I had zero idea how to respond, and so again I don’t think I did. Or, if I did, it was to again try to explain to them that there was a lot of material, and they should [leavemethefuckalone] focus on things they were interested in, especially if they didn’t think they could handle just the show. So they complain to me about that for a bit, before moving on to other topics to whine about. Always comes back to how I’m not writing with them any more (meanwhile, the countless starters I’ve written them are still being ignored, as are any and all threads we had on the go at the time. Everything’s either been ignored, abandoned, or both, all without letting me know.).I honestly don’t remember how that conversation ended. Just thinking about it makes me blank out and get a sort of mild pins-and-needles feeling. I mean, I get it was probably supposed to be flattering, and if we had been friends it might have been, but coming from this person? Alarm bells were ringing like a retro emergency evac PSE. 

AND IT GETS WORSE STILL, BECAUSE FOR SOME REASON I STILL PUT UP WITH THIS PERSON. 

So, enter me, just going back to uni for the spring/early summer semester. Our stage sets itself in my campus’ bookstore, at about noon or one o’clock in the afternoon. The line from the bookstore stretches from the counter, at one end of the store, wraps around the perimeter of that very large, very spacious room that was at one point a lecture hall, goes through the hall to the next room which also used to be a massive classroom, wraps around that and goes out the back door. I had to get up for an 8:30 that was across the field that day. I had non-stop class until this point, I had had no breakfast (though I think I had a sip of orange juice to keep from conking out), I had been waiting in line for close to an hour, my arms were full of heavy textbooks I dreaded having to pay for, and I only had one hand free for typing, and there was a chance I’d be late to my next class if this line didn’t get moving. As you can imagine, I wasn’t much in the mood for talking (though I think I made the effort for Rodi and Maddie (my best friend from public school who I still talk to) since I enjoy talking to them and it made me feel a bit better). Anyway, I’m in line, tired, irate, and scrolling through tumblr, and Cheeper messages me with a ‘hey’. Oh fuck, I think, this isn’t good. I greet them anyway - just a ‘hi’. I’m only giving one word answers at this point, since I’m not in a chatty mood, and, as I mentioned, I’m typing with just my thumb and that fucking sucks and takes forever, and I’m also trying to keep my place in line. Cheeper starts asking me about school, and I’m very confused, because never once in the months I’d known them had they ever taken an interest in me or my life. ‘so you’re in university right’ they ask. I remember most of this conversation word for word, and you’ll see why. ‘yeah’, I reply. ‘What year?’ they ask; ‘Second \o/’ I say, adding an emoji b/c I love that one. ‘Cool, what’s your major?’ they ask, and I’m getting hopeful that maybe they’ve turned a new leaf and my patience with them has been rewarded. So I tell them ‘Classics \O/’ with a slightly more excited emoji, and they tell me that’s cool, mention their major is in foreign languages - I think Chinese? Maybe Spanish? This is the one message I can never remember in its entirety, because the next one almost knocked me over. I replied with ‘cool’, and a half second later, Cheeper asks, 

“Are you out to your family yet?”

This complete fucking stranger, this grown-ass adult I barely knew, straight up asked me if I was out to my family, yet. I have never been asked that question before or since. I am out only to people on tumblr, and a small group of my most trusted friends from high school. And this person had the fucking audacity to ask me right out if I was. 

I was shocked.

I will not lie to you, I almost dropped my phone. I think I stopped breathing for a second, and I nearly lost my place in line. I was torn between just being frozen and being fucking livid. After a moment when I didn’t respond, they added, ‘Can I ask that?’ And I swear those two messages are tattooed into my mind.

“Are you out to your family yet?”

Holy fuck.

So I manage to collect myself enough to type out ‘no, I’m not’. 

‘Damn,’ they say. ‘Because my mom keeps messing up my pronouns and I wanted to know if you have any advice.’ 

Because why the fuck else would they care about me, right?

And then they proceeded to complain about their life and their aphobic family to me AGAIN, for HOURS, but at that point I’d been ignoring their messages and was instead talking to Maddie for advice on how to handle the situation. I had no idea what to do. I was lost. Like. I wanted to block them so bad but they’d been subtly guilt-tripping me about it for so long (’you’d never block me, you’re my best friend’ was just the start of that, tbh) that I felt bad for it? And Maddie was just like ‘jay no that’s fucked up get rid of them’ and I did.

I have never once regretted it and holy fuck it feels amazing to get this shit off my chest.

And yeah, so.

That was one of my worst RP experiences.

Are you out to your family yet.

I’d sell them to Satan for half a stale corn chip I swear to Christ. 

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 34/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series.  Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell… D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

"Alphonse is coming? When? How? Why? What did Edward and he do this time?"

"In typical, Elric fashion… they were accidentally thrown into action and they came in kicking and screaming."

"That's Ed, Al is the one that had to hold him back."

"Hey, you're marrying one of them. You know them better than I."

"Don't remind me…Granny and Gracia are dealing with the details of the wedding. Call me again when Al is on the train towards here to inform the Major General…. Does she know already?"

"…Is there any chan-"

"I am not telling her. Call her now or face her wrath when she comes down there again. Or do you want me to call Captain Hawkeye?"

"Looks like I have to make another phone call… How are you since the previous attack? Did you aggravate your wounds? Have you talked to Edward?"

"…" Winry shifted the phone so that she is holding it with both hands. She looked around to see that a guard was making their daily shift through the hall, nothing out of the norm. "The stitches were taken out a month ago and it's hardly going to leave a scar. I am fortunate the knife didn't slash any nerves otherwise I would be in big trouble… and no. I have not told Ed the whole story. I told him everything minus the fact I almost lost an arm."

"…You almost lost an arm? I had th… Dammit! You are a civilian, you shouldn't have been at such risk!"

"Well, that didn't stop a lot of people now did it!"

Tense silence resonated through the phone call as memories seemed to resurface between them.

"I'm sor-" Winry attempted to say was interrupted by a tired sigh. "General?"

"Roy. It's just Roy… Do you want me to get Havoc or Breda to go up there? Maybe Havoc… need he's been getting stir crazy…"

"Thank you, Roy, but it's not necessary. Major General has Major Miles on guard whenever I have to possibly take care of any… of the prisoners… since it occurred. I'll tell Edward everything once I see him face to face. Could it be possible you could have Alphonse bring me a couple of things?"

Winry heard paper shuffling from the other end and hearing Roy asking Riza for a pen that worked. She couldn't help but giggle the General grumbled under his breath how his current pen had exploded and how he needed a new one.

"What do you need?" Roy asked from the other line, ready to write down what was being said to him.

-.-

Edward looked through the Daily Prophet, reading the latest trash of the day. So far, it appears that Skeeter woman caught wind Alphonse left Magical Great Britain to return to Amestris. The article mainly consisted of complete bullshit and so on. The woman is picking at straws at this point and it only made the Alchemy Teacher roll his eyes pitifully. Nothing out of the norm for that woman.

There is an article that did catch his attention that had to do with the supposed Boy Who Lived. He had somethings but none so much that ever really caught his attention before. Sure, he had asked around abut the story of the (in)famous Harry Potter and now he killed the supposed Dark Lord. Load of utter crap to Edward, and it only going got worse as he heard everyone's opinion on the Savior of the Wizarding World.

So much sarcasm…

Rose-tinted glasses.

From what he managed to fully get out of Severus, Filius, Poppy and even Pomona and Hagrid, the kid is just a symbol everyone is using to end a war. A beacon of hope for many and the enemy of others. Light and dark that seems never ending in this world that seems so full of it.

So many morons putting their hands on a kid that has no clue what or who he is in this world just yet.

The again, he kid will be coming to Hogwarts next year. Which means…

"Bah, it'll be Alphonse problem."

-.-

"Achoo!"

"Your brother must be speaking ill of you again."

"No… he's going to make me deal with something he wants nothing to do with."

"Same thing."

-.-

Edward looked down at his planner, comparing it to his notes and book. His Tuesday and Thursday classes are ahead of schedule while the Monday and Wednesday classes are behind. It was a good thing he already planned if such thing would have occurred and is currently writing today's lesson on the blackboard and this should place the class back on track.

Nothing says group projects than the sight of seeing brats suffer when they have no clue what they are doing.

That and pop quizzes.

Oh, the pop quizzes…

A soft knock interrupted Edward from his train of thought, he turned to see an unfamiliar face peaking through the now partially open door. The Alchemy Teacher raised an eyebrow at the newcomer, wondering who he was. It's clearly not a student or a faculty member of the school. "What? Can you not see I am busy?"

"My apologies, I am looking for Mr. Edward Elric? I was to-"

"For bloody sake-Move!"

The man was pushed through the doors, nearly face-planted onto the brick floor. The one that pushed him is Severus that had a look of disgust and distrust completely written on his face. "I told you this is his classroom, that leads up to his room, Lupin."

"I did not want to enter a classroom without knocking first, he could have been teaching a class, Severus." Remus had managed to regain his balance, he shake his robes to ensure it won't get wrinkled by his almost meeting with the floor. He looked up to see Severus with who he assumes to be Edward Elric. He couldn't help but allow his jaw to slack at the sight of the Alchemy Instructor. He had originally expected someone older or… did Severus just smile? No, that must be a figment of his imagination. How close are those two?

"Mr. Elric, this is Remus Lupin… Advisor to the Minister of Magic."

"The supposed werewolf? Truth, why in its name he’s here? Please tell he isn't some sort of kiss up, or something. Already dealing with that crap as it is."

"No. He's was assigned to check over past cases to ensure they were done right. He want's a second opinion on a few of them… he read about your past experience."

"Ugh… Should I just go for a walk? I could get lost again… that could work. To avoid this…"

"No such luck. This is for you." Severus handed Edward a letter from within his robes. Edward took it with a raised eyebrow at the familiarity of the handwriting on said letter. "I was told you should have an idea what is in the letter already."

Edward nose scrunched up, he opened the letter and read the contents. "The Sirius Black case? Mustang had me look over it, the entire thing was a cover up filled with bullshit."

"When did you look over this case?"

"…Remember, I am part of the military. The more I grew, the harsher the jobs I got, and I have seen a lot of shit. This case is reminiscent to one I had overseen before I came out here to teach." Edward explained with a shrug, he scanned through the letter Roy had sent him. It mainly contained orders and permission, mainly to act as a consultant in the case. Nothing out of the norm. "I looked over the court case, while Roy looked over the pictures of the aftermath. We both agreed that it's more than what it appears."

"You were the outside source?" Remus asked, surprise evident in his voice. Forget the fact the Alchemy Teacher knew about his problem but show no out word thought about it and went with it instead. But the fact he is at a level to do such work at such a young age seems to go over his head. How much trust does the Minster have with Mr. Edward Elric?

"Yeah." Edward deadpanned, he placed the letter back in its envelope and put it inside his vest for safekeeping. "I haven't been working on it since I was incapacitated. I take it you are now in charge of the case?"

"Yes, erm. My name is Remus Lupin, and this is…where did she go?" Lupin looked around and quickly realized his assistant is nowhere to be seen. "Oh dear."

"She went down to the kitchens. You really need to pay more attention to your surroundings." Severus snorted, he headed towards the door to leave the classroom. "If you need me…you know where to find me. Oh, and Lupin, come by office later for the wolfsbane potion."

"That reminds me! I talked to Mei about that stuff, apparently many of the ingredients for that stuff is readily available back at Xing. Especially Wolfsbane, they use that stuff crazily for their healing remedies."

"I will send a letter to the Princess, does anyone else know of this?"

"No. Just you, me, and this guy." Edward pointed over at Remus with a shrug, ignoring the Advisor's look of dumbstruck. "Now, shoo. Military crap and all that."

"Remember, Firewhiskey tonight."

Once Severus left, Edward turned his complete attention to Lupin. He crossed his arms and leaned causally against his desk to stare at him unblinkingly. "How much do you know about me and this case?"