#am i allowed to tag this many people? like does tumblr have a limit? guess i'm about to find out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktsumu · 1 year ago

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hey guys guess who is back and THIS TIME without tags because tumblr limits you to 30 and i don't have that kind of restraint so. under the cut. spoilers dwell beneath here

who remembers when i lovingly asked where part 2 was in my last tags but it actually just turns out i cant read and it was there the whole time. trying to be a demanding bitch gets you nowhere damn

oh and i'd like to start this by saying i read user wttcsms' fics with my notes app on the other side of my screen because i actually can't retain EVERYTHING i like in the 20k words of content

so, this feedback is in CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER of reading. i wrote it WHILE i read it.

this is me livetweeting to my notes app. enjoy

_____

'You don’t laugh at his joke, but he does, and he does so in a manner that indicates that one, he doesn’t care if people laugh at his jokes or not, and two, he’s very accustomed to people not laughing with him.'

michael you're a freak and i can't tell if i hate you or not

'She’s the only other person who will continuously remind these girls that there are worse things to be in life than uncomfortable.'

stomach churned at this, i don't know why. i just got this sense of dread. felt so girl-to-girl

‘Thinking back on this, thinking about how Zeke showed no regret over his addiction, his reliance, his sole source of relief, Colt finds the courage to walk out the bathroom and head to the red light district.’

so you think i’m addictiveeee (i’m joking i take this dynamic very seriously sorry for ever implying that i don’t)

i also think calling reader an addiction in this sense is so dear to me because of how many connotations it could have otherwise given her line of work. like her whole occupation thrives on addiction and it's like mint gum to have that word used positively

help the gossip girl group too and the ‘oh not this again’ CRYING i like the humour i get in the middle of this

‘He says, and it sounds like how people who have their heads underwater for a prolonged period of time gasp for air the moment they’re able to have their head above the surface.’

me versus drowning metaphors. i am So Normal about drowning. So fucking normal about drowning (in a normal way)

but like seriously i'm not trying to be a literal weirdo but there's something about it when there's no external force being mentioned too, like nothing is holding them underwater. they just are and it's like i don't know

this ENTIRE scene with us talking to him like it’s the first time? my chest is so tight right now.

and oh my GOD getting you jewelry but it’s not a fucking necklace but it’s A WATCH. something ACTUALLY USEFUL to you but it still holds the same sentiment. actually no it holds way more. holy fuck

dropping to his knees? babe same

the whole theme of not being allowed to have personal desires is so fucking crushing but necessary so. i’ll allow it this once

‘And that betrayal is going to hurt the worst.’

if this is foreshadowing I’m gonna unfollow you and make a PSA about it (joking i'm whipped continuing on)

'Disarmed.'

im jumping

‘Colt is probably going to marry some beautiful, blushing bride’

if he lives long enough to see a wedding goddamn

sorry that was uncalled for but his future is ugly

HERES MY FAVOURITE

OOOOOOH USER WTTCSMS GOT ME WITH THE naked but not naked TROPE

it’s one thing to seen without clothes but it’s another to be naked. or something like that right

'He looks at you, and he undresses you, but it’s not clothes he’s trying to take off. He’s peeling layers of your masks, making you shed your faux skins all over the place, in some insignificant corner. Colt Grice stares at you, and he sees you, and it makes you feel special.'

what did i say about that naked shit again because this is literally it reoccurring I’m kicking my feet. also have a sense of dread because this feels too good to be true but I’m in too deep now anyway

i fuycking knew it you TRAITORRRRRR the sense of impending doom never lies oh my god

daylight [pt. ii] ; colt grice.

pairing colt grice x f!reader word count 19.2k synopsis colt grice's life has never been easy, and it's about to get a hell of a lot worse. content contains sw!reader, canon discrimination against eldians, derogatory terms towards women author's notes if you count part one, it took nearly 32k words for them to share their first kiss. who says the pwp writer can't have range? also, i'm always in a constant state of thanks to @mochalate, who constantly motivates me to work on this fic <3

part two: no kissing

Colt Grice’s first kiss catches him off guard.

He’s sixteen, and the positives that come from puberty are finally showing up. Now, instead of waking up with achy bones and joint pain, he’s nearly six feet tall. All traces of boyhood have been shredded, and in its place is a face with sharp features and nice bone structure that has spent years being hidden under baby fat. Like every other hopeless case living in Liberio, Colt enlists in the military because there aren’t many other options for him out there. He joins later than the others because up until he was fourteen, he wasn’t a hopeless case.

Then, Dad got sick. Bills needed to be paid. Colt was more than ready to sign up for the Marleyan military considering the fact that the average starting age is twelve — for “late bloomers,” that is. It had been this whole entire embarrassing ordeal, really. He stood out from his first bunkmates, all gangly bones and a less-than-sunny disposition on the world and its current state affairs compared to the hopefulness his younger fellow cadets all seemed to harbor.

Colt doesn’t want Marley to go to war. He doesn’t want to die; he only enlisted because his family needed him to, even if they begged and pleaded with him not to. His paychecks get sent directly to his family, by his request.

The uniform fits him awkwardly, too, at first. He thinks this is why he probably wasn’t on the receiving end of positive female attention. He sticks out like a sore thumb during mandatory lineup because he’s a whole head taller and several years older than everyone else who’s getting in formation. His pants fit weird, stopping at an odd point that’s an inch too high above his ankles, and the strap on his helmet is too tight and digs into the skin of his chin, resulting in him walking around with a constant red impression on the bottom of his face. He gets promoted quickly because of his test scores and ends up surpassing all his peers in his proper age bracket, too. It’s around this time that he starts taking charge, too used to having to play big brother for his original cadet class (with their chubby faces and short statures, they reminded him all too much of Falco and what he had to leave behind; settling into this role came too naturally). At this point, the uniform fits perfectly.

The yellow armband he’s rewarded with fits just right, too.

At age sixteen, Colt Grice is officially transferred to the Warrior Unit as a Candidate. He has to prove his devotion to the cause; this means choking down more propaganda to the point where everything that comes out of his mouth is coated in Marleyan ideals, and it’s this whole entire thing where he stands up and does an oath, swearing his eternal, unwavering allegiance to Marley. It’s a public affair. The Unit makes him out to be a role model, the poster boy of sorts, for the Warrior Unit. To show the world that while being an Eldian makes you equivalent to cannon fodder, that doesn’t mean you can’t be thankful.

He’s the closest thing this shithole has to a success story.

Armed with what can be considered a Marleyan stamp of approval, and the fact that Colt now fills out his uniform quite nicely, in that primitive, hyper-masculine way that makes the female hindbrain go buckwild at the sight of him in it, he gains an insane amount of popularity.

Colt isn’t a stranger to having so many admirers, now, but sometimes he still feels like that awkward fourteen year old boy playing at being a man. It’s why he’s so shocked when the girls who pursue him turn out to be very forward.

He doesn’t even expect the kiss. He’s back in the internment zone for a holiday break, and Susie had asked him to pretty please meet her behind the old schoolhouse. Colt doesn’t suspect anything will happen, but he does mentally prepare himself to give the usual response that he gives to all the confessions he receives: you’re a very nice girl, but I can’t give you the time and care you deserve; my current and only devotion lies with the military.

Susie is a very nice girl. With her short, curly brown hair and hazel-colored eyes, Colt is certain that there are plenty of boys who wouldn’t mind a love confession from her. She was one of the most popular girls back in school, or at least, Colt thinks she was. And her parents are one of the more well-off Eldians in the area; her dad’s a doctor. Her dad is Dad’s doctor, the recipient of a fourteen year old Colt’s meager military stipends. He wonders if she knows this, if she cares, if it would make a difference.

She doesn’t say anything to warn him that the kiss is coming. She rounds the corner, spots him in her line of vision, and heads straight towards him. He thinks she’ll stop at the last second, but she doesn’t, and by the time she’s too close for comfort, it’s too late.

Her lips press against his, and her eyes are closed. He knows her eyes are closed because his are wide open from shock. It lasts for two seconds, and it’s because that’s how long it took for him to regain control of his body and pull back.

Then he apologizes and tells her that that wasn’t supposed to happen, and he can’t be with anyone right now. Shock is still clearly in his system because without even thinking too hard about it, Colt immediately turns his back on her and runs straight home. To this day, he feels bad about how he handled the situation, but last he’s heard is that Susie is married now.

He licks his lips reflexively as he stares up at the ceiling. He wonders what your first kiss was like. He hopes for your sake that it was good, or as good as a first kiss can be. Then, he feels an unfamiliar, uncomfortable pit in his stomach at the idea of you kissing some nameless, faceless stranger. It gets even worse when he imagines that the kiss is good, that it’s something you enjoy. And then he just feels pathetic when he realizes that it’s jealousy he’s experiencing.

It’s unfair of him to be envious of any of your past partners because Colt knows that he does not have a claim on you. He does not own you, nor does he believe that you are a possession, that you’re something to be owned. He is well aware that you are your own person, with your own experiences, and a whole lifetime lived before and without him. For all he knows, he’s just a footnote in the story of your life.

This thought makes him sad.

Fuck. He wants to turn his body and plant his face into his pillow and scream. He won’t do that because he’s nothing but courteous to his bunkmates, but this has been such a recurring urge lately that Colt is wary that this is going to be a problem if he doesn’t get his shit together, and fast.

He finds himself thinking about you — he wouldn’t dare to go so far as to describe it as being “more often than he would like” because the fact of the matter is that he enjoys thinking about you, doesn’t mind you being the one singular thought that remains on his mind — and that’s the core of the issue.

He repeats your name in his head like a mantra, until he’s certain that he can formulate sentences using your name as the only word. He says it in his head with different cadences, stresses the syllables in a different way every time, wonders if you ever think about him in a similar manner.

It’s been a week since he last saw you. The bruises on his face have healed up quite nicely, and the cut isn’t even going to leave a scar, according to one of the nurses. As a result of falling asleep in your bed and having to limp back to base at the crack of dawn, Colt’s punishment is that he isn’t allowed to leave the grounds for the next two weeks.

“What the hell were you doing, boy?” Commander Magath has the type of voice that is always booming. He is consistently loud, and Colt has long since discovered that that’s just simply how Magath sounds. Colt recalls flinching at his commanding officer’s question (re: he’s still recovering from a mild concussion, and Magath’s loudness isn’t helping much in the healing process), and, because Colt happens to come back at the odd period of time where the soldiers on watch are doing their shift changes, there’s an audience.

Colt knows he’s stuck in between a rock and a hard place. He would rather run one hundred laps around base than ever admit he missed curfew because he was at a brothel. He also knows that he doesn’t have it in him to directly lie to an authority figure, especially when it’s a Marleyan officer. Looks like indoctrinating children really does have some lasting side effects.

“I fell asleep, sir.”

“Well, no shit!”

Colt attempts not to wince when some tiny droplets of spit fly out of Magath’s mouth and land on his cheeks. He thinks it would only piss off the commander some more.

“I think it’s because of the concussion, sir. I thought going into town would help clear my head, but I ended up knocking out before I could even remember to head back to base.” Not a lie. Colt would never willingly fall asleep on you because he knows most of his time with you is limited. He has to make the most of it.

At the mention of the injuries sustained, Colt thinks Magath’s expression somewhat softens. It must be a trick of the light, though, or maybe his head got more banged up than he realized because Magath is back to berating him, saying that he would expect this dumbass behavior from anyone else in the Warrior Unit but him — which could be taken as a sort of compliment, if only he didn’t follow it up with a reminder that everyone in said unit is such a breed of stupid that a common idiot off the street could be considered a genius compared to them. Well, idiot or not, Colt’s well aware that Magath’s definitely insulting him and his peers.

But when his only punishment is to remain confined to the base, he knows better than to try to argue his way to a lighter sentence.

On nights like these, nights where he can’t seem to fall asleep because every slumber pales in comparison to the one he spent with you, he stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom and prays to every power in the universe that you are having a good night.

As far as bad nights go, you think this one might top the list. At minimum, it ranks somewhere in the top ten worst nights of your life.

Ramzi is sick. You would think that being exposed to the elements on a daily basis and eating food well past its prime date for consumption would make Ramzi immune to most common ailments, but if anything, it makes him even more susceptible to sickness. While he’s plenty grown up now, being sick seems to make Ramzi revert back to a little kid, to indulge in the boyhood he never had the luxury of enjoying.

“You can’t leave me! I don’t feel well!”

Even with a runny nose, a persistent cough, and his ongoing battle against his body’s fluctuating temperatures (he’ll throw off his blankets because he’s overheating only to be shivering not even five minutes later), he still has just enough strength to test his luck and see if his complaints will be enough to get you to stay home.

His antics, while proof of his love for you, are starting to get on your nerves. The time you spend running around, trying to get him situated when his one goal in life is to act like he’s unbearably uncomfortable so you keep tending to him, is making you late. The other girls who live in this camp had stopped by earlier, asking if you were ready to leave. At that point, you had been in the process of bundling Ramzi up in several blankets (he frees himself ten minutes later, complaining that he was getting “too hot”) and told them to go along without you.

Now, you realize you’re going to be late to your first scheduled appointment of the night.

Fuck.

If you leave now and run like the hounds of hell are nipping at your heels, you could probably make it to the brothel at a decent enough time to where Willa wouldn’t have to intervene on your behalf. You know things are bad if Willa gets involved.

Before you lose your patience and snap at Ramzi, the opening of your tent is being pulled back.

“No work tonight?” Malik asks.

“I wish.” And then, “Did you need something?” The I’m kind of busy goes unsaid, but it’s clear in the agitated tone of your voice.

“Just wanted to stop by and check up on you two. It’s been a while.”

Malik doesn’t apologize. Probably on account of the toxic masculinity that seems to run rampant around this camp — this whole society, really — but he means well. Most of the time. From what you can see, at least.

You know him stopping by and saying this is his idea of extending an olive branch to you. Usually, you would tease him at this point, ask him if he forgot how to say the words “I’m sorry.” All you can think about, though, is that he has the worst fucking timing.

“Yeah, I guess it has been.” You tell him, opening up your trunk and pulling out the pair of socks Colt had gifted to you. In the box containing all of your meager possessions, the ointment lays on top of everything. You’re not facing Malik, anymore; instead, you pull on this pair of socks before slipping into your shoes.

The stark whiteness of the cotton stands out from the usual colorful swaths of fabric prevalent in the camp. It’s too bright, too squeaky clean, to properly fit in your life of once-grand clothes that have retained only a fraction of the beauty and boldness it once held. Malik innocently asks you where you got the socks from.

“A customer.” You answer, and this shuts him up for now. If there is anything in this world that Malik hates more than admitting his fault and apologizing, it is any discussion of what you do for work. It’s an unspoken rule that the two of you don’t talk about your time at the brothel. For once, you’re glad about it.

“I’m about to go to work right now. Could you do me a favor and watch over Ramzi for the time being? He’s sick, and I’m worried how he’s going to feel later on in the night.” Minding your manners, you look Malik in the eyes and tack on a please at the end of your request.

“You know I don’t mind.” He doesn’t break eye contact with you. You think you detect something different in the intensity of the stare he’s giving you; more serious, with an almost broody concern evident in those dark eyes of his. “I’ll be waiting here when you get back. We’ll talk more then, okay?”

You’re already running horribly late. You don’t have time to argue, to remind him that the last thing you’re in the mood for is a conversation you’re unprepared for, especially after a long shift. Instead, you give a slight nod in acknowledgment, and practically sprint out of the tent.

The cold wind whips you in the face as you make your way to the red light district. Usually, the sun is just barely starting to set when you make your journey; it’s jarring to see how different the walk feels when you’re by yourself, and it’s starting to get dark out.

The closer you get to the district, the more the fact that you are a woman, alone, in a more dangerous, more lawless area of the city, starts to loom over you. You tighten your coat around your body, practically hugging yourself as you try to quicken your pace. The cold air bites through the fabric of your clothes, chills you to your bones, leaves goosebumps all over your flesh.

The streetlights are dim, the pavement cracked, and you are well aware that the cold soaking through your skin right now isn’t just from the weather, but from the lecherous stares of the men walking down the street. This is the same path you’ve taken for years now, but tonight, it is entirely too different. You never noticed just how tiny you are compared to the heavyset frames of the men standing outside, with their burly shoulders that could easily knock you down if they were to accidentally run into you.

Even the scenery feels different. You’ve walked down this street enough times to recognize where the deep potholes in the road are, and usually the buildings lining the district are a source of odd comfort to you. There’s a familiar bar, but its usual warm glow of light emitting from within doesn’t serve as a means of brightness anymore. Now, the lighting from inside casts weird shadows on the faces of the passerby, distorts their features, gives your paranoia something to feed off of.

“Hey, girlie,” a raspy voice startles you. It’s been so long since you’ve had to worry about yourself — always choosing to focus on the surroundings for the sake of the other girls, always never having to because girls develop a sort of stupid invincibility when they link arms and take the town together — that you’re caught off guard by the sudden feel of a man’s hand on your shoulder.

Fight or flight.

You choose the weakest of the options: freeze.

You realize that you’re scared to look at the man. Your eyes dart nervously down the street, taking in the surrounding buildings, but you realize that there is no one here who will be able to rescue you. Survival instincts kick in, and you find yourself able to back away from him, but his hand grips down on your shoulder even harder. Like a claw, like a shackle.

“You one of those streetwalkers?” His words come out like a croak. You reason that it doesn’t matter what exactly he says; as long as it comes out of his mouth, with his dry, thirsty, cracked lips, spitting out sentences in between yellowing and rotting teeth, the words are going to sound disgusting regardless.

“Or ya just a whore for free?”

You take another step back. With what little light that shines from the streetlamps (that have certainly seen better days), you’re hyper aware of more figures approaching. Sometimes, there are other women who stand outside, some women who are the “streetwalkers” the man has accused you of being, but you know that they cannot come to your rescue. If they were to witness this scene right now, a scene that they’ve probably endured every night out here, they might not even recognize your plight.

“What’s going on here?” An authoritative voice cuts through your panic, and in the low lighting, you almost think it’s Colt that’s approaching this scene.

Wishful thinking is a silent killer. Like drugs and alcohol, the high you get from it, the relief, only lasts for so long. Coming down is even harder.

You know you shouldn’t feel disappointed at the sight of your savior, but this soldier is clearly Marleyan. For all you know, he’s just gotten done with a session with one of the girls you patch up every night.

He grips the man’s wrist, yanking it from your shoulder and assessing him.

“I asked you a question.” This blond-haired soldier shoots such a sharp, disgusted look at the man that you’re certain the effect would be similar to how it feels when a blade pierces through one’s intestines.

“Look, I don’t want no trouble.” The man snarls, pointing a grimy finger at you. “She’s the one solicitin’ people for cheap sex. Go arrest her, officer.” The way he spits out the title shows he harbors the same amount of respect for prostitutes and the police. The only thing stopping him from putting his hands on this soldier is probably the high chance that he’s got a weapon on him.

“Big fan of the law, are you? Should I take you both down to the station with me, then? We can file a report together, and you can tell my superiors what exactly your business being down here is.”

“Fuck you.”

You’re debating if you should test your luck and run. There’s a chance that the soldier would rather chase after you than deal with this man’s verbal assault and hair-pin trigger temper. However, the last thing you want is to get indicted for prostitution. Not because it’ll go on your record; you couldn’t care less about that. It just sounds like filing an official report would take a long time, possibly the whole night, and you can already picture all the money you’re losing by standing here instead of being in your room, ready to greet guests.

As if sensing your agitation, the soldier glances at you and then claps the man on the shoulder, guiding his hand upwards until it’s circled around the back of the man’s neck. He pulls the man closer to him, and because of the soldier’s height, he has to lean down slightly to get eye-level with your harasser.

Silence. You can feel the fear radiating off of the man, undercut with his drunken defiance. If there’s anything men have in common, no matter what race or class, it’s certainly audacity.

“Y’know what, I thought you had a bit more fire in you. ‘Fuck you’, seriously?” The soldier turns his head and looks at you, making a face as if trying to ask you can you believe this guy? “I know you can do better than that.” He takes his hand and pats the back of the man’s head. “Tell you what. I’m going to walk this lovely lady home, who was certainly not soliciting you, and then I’m going to come right back here. By the time I come back, you better come up with some better insults, or I’m going to be very disappointed.” Straightening himself up, he extends a hand to you; thankfully, not the hand that has touched that man.

What else are you supposed to do in this situation other than take it?

The longer you walk with this man, the more you study him. The more you study him, the more you realize that it was foolish to believe even for a second that he was Colt. They have similar builds, but Colt has a leaner figure, lighter hair, soft brown eyes. The way they carry themselves is different, too. This man walks with his arms swinging by his side, and while the first glance of him can fool people into thinking he’s a perfect soldier, upon closer inspection, you realize that his uniform is missing a button, his pants are slightly wrinkled, and there’s a strand of hair in the back that’s sticking up.

“So, you work at the Gentleman’s Club.” It’s not a question. His tone is light enough, though, to where you’re not on edge. He had let go of your hand the second you two left the immediate vicinity of the man.

“Yes.” There’s no point in lying.

“Don’t suppose you’ve run into many of them there.”

“Excuse me?”

“Gentlemen.” He clarifies. “I don’t think you’ve dealt with many gentlemen there, right?”

“The name’s all for marketing.”

“Hi, All For Marketing. Bit of a mouthful of a name.”

You don’t laugh at his joke, but he does, and he does so in a manner that indicates that one, he doesn’t care if people laugh at his jokes or not, and two, he’s very accustomed to people not laughing with him. You can’t tell if you like him or not.

“My name’s Michael.” He adds, after settling down. “Willa told me telling you my name would make you feel better.”

“Willa told you that?” You narrow your eyes at him. “How do you know Willa?” Willa’s the reason why any of the girls feel remotely safe in the Club. She’s older than you, but only by a few years. With the life she’s led, you’re only surprised that she’s not older — or dead.

“She kicked me in the nuts once, and I was a goner ever since.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not, and he doesn’t clarify. Instead, he drops you off at the front of the brothel, not even saying goodbye. He just turns right on his heels and starts to whistle an unfamiliar tune. You don’t tell him that this part of town isn’t the area where you want to whistle as you skip down the street, but considering the fact that you hadn’t felt any more slimy stares directed at you as you walked with him, maybe he can handle himself just fine.

“Is everything okay?” Willa rarely calls anyone to her office. Tucked away in an odd corner of the brothel, it’s almost as if she doesn’t want anyone to know where her office is. The first and only time you’ve been in here had been on your first day of work, when she made you tea and told you that this is going to be a horrible experience, and that her job isn’t to ensure the girls’ comfort but rather their survival.

She’s the first person to truly ingrain this idea into your head: survival over everything. She’s the only other person who will continuously remind these girls that there are worse things to be in life than uncomfortable.

The three jagged scars running down her face, starting from an inch below her left eye, down her cheek, traveling all the way to her throat, surely must have been more than just an uncomfortable ordeal. But here she is now, standing tall, pouring hot water into cups. The smell of tea brewing fills the small room.

“Yes, of course.” You tell her, not sure why she had been waiting for you in the lobby, only to usher you into her office.

“Hmm.” Her back is still turned to you. Her desk isn’t spotless like you would imagine it to be; she runs such a tight ship in this brothel, you envisioned that every other aspect of her life must be dictated by her militant extremes. There are papers covering every surface, pinned to the walls, even, and books stacked on the floor. You can’t imagine finding anything in this mess. Anything of importance would most likely be hidden in plain sight.

“Is this about the two appointments I missed? Willa, I—”

“Already handled it.” She turns to face you, offering you a teacup. The warmth travels from your hand and spreads to the rest of your body. You didn’t even realize just how cold you are.

“Are you going to fire me now?” The newfound warmth in your body immediately dissipates. You’re not above begging. If it comes down to it, you’ll do anything to keep this job. The sounds of Ramzi’s coughs fill your mind as you continue speaking, “Willa, I have never been late before this—”

“I’m not going to fire you.” She takes a seat on the edge of her desk, some papers falling to the ground as a result. “I just wanted to talk.”

“About?”

She shrugs, placidly, but you’re certain it’s just an act. She’s sitting too rigidly on her desk, and Willa is not the type of person to waste time (time is money, after all), especially just to shoot the shit. Finally, after the protracted silence, she sighs.

“Don’t you wish you could hop on a ship and leave this shithole? Sounds pretty nice, right?”

You allow yourself three seconds of some more wishful thinking, but the idea of ever leaving Marley and having a life that’s better than the one you’re currently living right now seems so out of reach, your mind can’t even wrap around such an idea.

“Wherever I go, I’d still be me.”

“It’s a total hypothetical, [Name]. What if you ran away and had a whole new identity?” Her green eyes are very sharp. Actually, every feature of Willa is pointed and sharp. Depending on the lighting, she either looks delicate like a doll or downright dangerous.

“What’s the point? What’s the point of living if you’re not yourself?”

She smiles at you, almost like the two of you are sharing some intimate secret.

“I should probably go.” You tell her. You didn’t make this trip just to leave the brothel with empty pockets. There’s only so many hours left in the night. “Thanks for the tea.”

You set the cup back on the small table crammed in the corner of her office. You didn’t even take a single sip.

Your hair is a matted, tangled mess, some strands sticking to your sweaty face. Regular customers range from the dregs of society to silent men who like to think themselves unemotional and cold but fuck with a vigor and passion that has them grunting out the name of the woman they truly wished was under them. For the most part, you don’t mind the men who fuck you with this sort of detached lust.

Some nights, it’s even mildly entertaining.

Tonight, it just hurts.

It’s like every man who stumbles into your room tonight has a lover in his head. Lover might be too sweet of a word, though. You can’t picture any of these men being loving, but sometimes, you can hear it in their distressed groans. Something animalistic and wounded, filled with want and desire.

You wonder what the big fucking deal is. If you’re infatuated — even foolish enough to think yourself in love — with somebody, why are you paying to have sex with someone else? What’s stopping them from pursuing these women freely? The fact that they’re losers?

Your pessimistic thoughts give way to something more personal, though. When you’re left to sit in the silence after hearing the nonstop exclamations of every woman’s name but your own — each of them said in such a desperate, longing manner, it was probably a love confession — you realize that only a select few people outside the refugee camp know your name.

You stare at your door, willing it to open.

Hoping. Wanting. Waiting.

Just like every other night this past week, just like every other night that followed after you acted just as foolish as these men and whispered your name to him, he doesn’t show up.

You sink into your mattress.

Hope’s going to kill you before anything else gets the chance.

Colt stares at his reflection in the barracks’ bathroom. There’s a tiny crack running down the mirror that hangs over the sink he used to wet his toothbrush and rinse his mouth — the one with the perpetual leaky faucet — and the constant drip drip drip of water slowly plopping down in the discolored porcelain does nothing to ease his nerves.

Tonight is his first night of renewed freedom.

There’s little to no trace of the sparring match from two weeks ago. Claire had been right in her assessment: there is no lasting scar from the cut. He feels himself tracing the areas on his cheek where the bruises formed. There’s nothing left of them, now, but he can trick himself into feeling the ghost of your touch when he does this.

The only good thing to come out of not seeing you for two weeks is that he has considerably much more money saved up, allowing him to purchase more of your time.

The crack in the mirror travels from the upper-right hand edge down to the lower left-hand corner. It’s jagged, but faint; just enough to distort his reflection, make it look like he’s some messed up puzzle where the two pieces aren’t aligned right yet. His haircut came courtesy of his enlistment, so it’s no surprise to him when he finds he can’t style it in any other way besides the military guideline approved gelled parting. It usually doesn’t matter, considering he’s either on base or hiding his hair underneath a helmet, but now he’s standing in this cold bathroom, hyper aware of his looks.

He knows that he’s considered to be handsome. Handsome in a rather generic way, he thinks. He holds none of the rugged appeal some of the girls claim Porco possesses, nor does he hold the same amount of inviting charm Michael seems to waste, since every time he manages to attract a girl, he opens his mouth and they start running in the other direction. His looks are nothing special. This realization wouldn’t bother him on any other day, but when he’s spent two weeks thinking about reuniting with you, in all his plain glory, he feels like heading back to his room and never seeing the light of day again.

But he’s a soldier, a Warrior Candidate, the next inheritor of the Beast Titan. He brought pride to his family, proved to everyone that he was at least someone worth giving a damn about, and—

—he wants to see you again.

Wanting is proof that he is human. Animals survive on a basis of need. They eat the food that they can hunt because they need to survive. They burrow into holes in the ground or sleep on rocks because they need to survive. They claw at each other, spitting mad, snarling, sharp teeth, bloody paws, all because they need to survive. A textbook from his childhood, a textbook still included in Falco’s curriculum, states that Eldians are more animal than human.

Colt is aware that he’s done lots of things for the sake of survival, out of need, but there is something wonderfully human that continues to live inside of him, an ache in his body that can only be relieved by giving into his wants.

He thinks back to earlier this week, when Zeke calls for him so they can toss a baseball back and forth to each other. Colt always gets the feeling that Zeke is in a perpetual state of holding back. He’ll talk to Colt and make the occasional joke, drops an insignificant anecdote from his earlier years, all of which are scraps that Colt clings to because it won’t be long until Zeke isn’t here anymore. He’s well aware of how morbid it sounds, but Colt doesn’t view death in the disgusting, grotesque way most people do. He’s sappy. He softens it, like how he softens most things. He likens it to a well-earned rest.

He collects these little bits and pieces of information from Zeke so that at least his memory won’t be buried in the grave with him. He accidentally lets this slip out when they’re done tossing the baseball, and they’re just leaning against the brick ball, enjoying a break away from the other soldiers.

Zeke had asked him why he cares so much, and after getting his answer, Zeke fumbles around in his front pocket, procuring a lighter and a cigarette.

After lighting it and taking a long drag, he tells Colt, “You’re a good person, you know.”

Zeke isn’t the type of guy who says things just to flatter people. In fact, most of the Warriors seem to go out of their way to push their luck and see what types of out of pocket things they can get away with saying. Porco tops all of them, easily.

“Thank you,” Colt isn’t good at dealing with praise. Most of the superior officers here aren’t keen on giving compliments to Eldian soldiers, and so Colt gets used to savoring the silence in between insults.

“But, you know that memories get inherited, too, right? Can’t remember if they wrote it in the damn textbook or if I mentioned it to you before.”

“Both.” Colt answers. He remembers, because the camaraderie of it all had sounded so appealing to a young Colt. Later, he realizes that it’s because all blessings come attached with a curse; unimaginable power and a means to do right by the people you love and your state, but you die shortly after. Maybe it’s only fair that memories get passed down, to make up for all the memories you won’t ever get to make.

“So, what’s the point in trying to remember all the stuff I tell you?”

The rough exterior of the bricks digs into Colt’s back. “What if not all memories get transferred over? Maybe the ones I remember on your behalf don’t pass over, but since I know them, they get to live on.”

Zeke appears to be thoughtful for a minute, letting the words sink in, soak him straight to the bone. “Can’t argue with that.” Zeke can actually argue quite well; Colt knows this. What Zeke means to say is that he doesn’t want to argue. Zeke digs into his pocket, pulls out a carton, and offers it up to Colt.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Good for you. Don’t start.” The advice seems insincere, since Zeke tosses the butt of his cigarette to the ground and immediately lights up another one.

Maybe if he had regenerative abilities and didn’t have to worry about black lungs, Colt would also try out smoking. Probably not. His mother is always reminding him to take care of himself and taking up Zeke on his offer of cigarettes would feel like a betrayal to her.

Zeke is no stranger to smoking. Colt would go so far as to call it an addiction, what with the way his fingers seem to always naturally find their way to a lighter and a cigarette. The smell of smoke clings to his jacket, and you can occasionally see him reflexively twitch his fingers when he’s gone too long without a smoke.

Colt wonders what would happen if he goes too long without seeing you again. Would his knee bounce anxiously? Would his hands clench and unclench, just from the strain of having to resist the urge to run to your side? He’s not familiar with such a concept; it feels insane to be reduced to nothing but his wants.

“Do you regret starting?” Colt nods to the cigarette burning in Zeke’s hand.

“Not really, no.”

The crunch of gravel being grinded underneath his boots, the way the tiny embers of a persistent flame clinging to the cigarette are immediately extinguished, just from one well-aimed stomp from Zeke, had Colt excusing himself to prepare for his meeting with you.

Thinking back on this, thinking about how Zeke showed no regret over his addiction, his reliance, his sole source of relief, Colt finds the courage to walk out the bathroom and head to the red light district.

“And then he fucking coughed on me!” Alize is an animated storyteller. You can see the disgusted look on her face, almost as if she’s reliving the very scene she’s describing in horrifying detail for you all. As one of the only Eldians working here, Alize gets some of the worst clients. The type to fetishize her for the armband she’s mandated to wear.

“No!” Margaret gasps, like she is oh-so shocked at such a thing happening, even though this is a very tame thing in comparison to a lot of the situations everyone encounters. All the girls sitting in the circle are laughing, and it feels good, truly, to have a chance to gather like this and rehash traumatic events together like girls gossiping at a sleepover. If you can’t make fun of it, what’s the point of enduring it?

Nadia is sitting next to you, back slightly hunched, knees pulled up to her chest so her little chin can rest atop them. She’s not laughing, and she’s not sharing her own stories.

“Why don’t we ever share any good stories?” You ask, and that brings up another round of laughter. Good? In this place? Get real.

But when you’re surrounded by these girls, sitting close together, enjoying each other’s company, it’s almost easy to forget that anything bad has happened here. You want Nadia to see that.

“I’m being serious, come on. All of us can remember at least one good story.”

“Well, there was that one guy who used to come in and dress me up in lingerie. Brand new panties and bras every week; the good stuff, too. I’m talking lace.” Margaret leans in to the circle when she says this, and everyone’s hooked. Lacy lingerie? That’s a luxury.

“Mags, that’s not a good story! His wife caught him spending all his paychecks on playing dirty dress-up with you, and she came down here, causing an absolute ruckus!” Delia feels most passionately about this because she happened to be in the lobby when the man’s wife came around, and then got accused of being “that whore.” Delia never lets Margaret forget that she took a slap to the face for her; as if Margaret would ever forget that.

“You know what I’m not hearing? Anything good.” You point out.

“What are you looking for? A fucking love story?” Alize snickers, before you make eye contact with her, subtly letting your eyes flicker to a hopeless looking Nadia. Alize understands immediately.

“You know, there is that rumor about that one girl who met her husband here.” Alize starts but is immediately met with interjections.

“Not this again—”

“Get real, Ali—”

“Shut up! I’m telling the story, here, aren’t I?” Alize gives everyone in the circle a warning stare before continuing. “He was a businessman.”

“Okay, businessmen are the worst, I don’t—” You knock your body against Margaret’s, effectively getting her to quiet down so Alize can actually finish her story before you all have to head to your separate rooms to get to work.

“And he wasn’t looking for love, by the way. Don’t get it twisted, girls. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that men don’t come to girls like us with the game plan of meeting their one true love. Got it?” The reminder seems to be aimed at Nadia, who begins to peek out of her shell at the word “love.”

“So, this businessman, he ends up at this place because he’s new to the area and some cab driver totally screwed him over. Pulled right outside our lovely little area of the city and robbed him! Now, he’s broke, but looks way too good to be in an area like this. And our girl, Nadia—” The name of the girl who gets the happy ending always changes. No one has any idea how this rumor started; apparently, it always happens to be right before the time the oldest girl at the brothel started. By the time people start requesting for someone to tell this story, it’s usually not for their sake, but for pulling out some other girl from the darkness of this place. Nadia is definitely latching on, allowing herself to be rescued. Even if the story is just a fantasy, it’s still better than wallowing in a pit of despair.

“—she spots him. She’s about to head to our little club here until she spots him. He looked so out of place and like easy pickings. If she didn’t approach him, who knows where he’d be?”

“Dead in a ditch, probably,” A voice pipes up, followed by quiet giggles.

“Naked, too. You know they would’ve robbed him for anything he had.” Margaret adds in, resulting in another round of laughter. You smile at her response; she’s not wrong.

“Well, isn’t he just so lucky to have met Nadia, then! Anyway, Nadia finds this hopeless case of a man and is like, ‘you’re not from around here, are you?’ and he goes, ‘what gave it away?’, and she says, ‘you’re not unzipping your pants at the sight of me.’ Oh, Nadia. What a class act she was.” Alize sighs. “She takes him to the brothel and lets him go straight to her room, and she tells him, ‘you can spend the night here.’ Of course, he’s a businessman. He knows nothing in life is free. So he asks her, ‘what’ll it cost me?’ And she tells him a price that’s worth three nights of work! He agrees to it, but tells her he doesn’t have any money to pay her right away. Now, Nadia is a little risk taker, because me personally? I’m not doing a damn thing for a broke man under this roof. But she trusts him! Guess he had that type of straight and narrow look about him. Only, instead of sleeping, he strikes up a conversation with her!”

“Now that’s unrealistic.” Delia mutters under her breath. “What kind of a man just wants to talk?”

“And they stayed up all night just talking, and the businessman and Nadia both have never felt so seen by someone else. So, she sends back to the nice side of town, and he comes back during the night with twice as much money as he promised. He starts visiting her every night, bringing her gifts and whatnot, and on the last day he’s about to leave town, he shows up with a ring and, well… It’s a good story. We all know how it ends.” Alize waves her hand in the air like she can’t be bothered to tell the rest. “Clearly there’s hope for us all. Especially you.” Alize reaches over to gently poke Nadia’s leg. “Maybe our little Nadia will meet a nice businessman.”

She no longer looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up, but it’s not a fairytale from Alize that Nadia is searching for. She looks up at you, searching hard for any dishonesty when she asks you, “Has anything good happened to you here?”

You’ve come to terms with the fact that Colt is never coming back. Even thinking about his name fills you with regret because you gave up a part of yourself that was supposed to remain forever locked away in your ribcage. You haven’t thrown out the ointment or the socks yet; not because you’re sentimental, but because you’re not wasteful. Both items are kept buried in your trunk, though, underneath piles of your more familiar, more worn out pieces of clothing. Pretending that Colt has never walked into your life would protect your heart and state of mind. Admitting to the kindness he showed you would keep Nadia going. You already know what you’re going to say.

“There used to be a soldier who would visit me and all we would ever do is talk. He didn’t even want to lay in bed.” You can hear surprised whispers from the other girls, but you focus only on Nadia. “He brought me socks and ointment for a bruise I didn’t even tell him I had. He just…had a way of noticing things.”

Nadia is raised within the same cultural environment as your own. Her eyes only further widen at the mention of the gifts he brought you. “And food? Did he bring you food?”

It sounds silly to the Eldian girls in the room, but you can feel the watchful eyes of your neighbors. You shake your head. “No.”

“Not yet.” This is the most certain Nadia has ever sounded about anything. “But he will. I know he will.”

“Get ready, girls!” Willa knocks on the door, signaling to them that the fun is over. It’s time to go to work.

Before everyone can file out, little Nadia grabs your wrist, making sure you stay to hear what she has to say. Everyone is trying to be polite, but they are noticeably crowding around the door but not actually exiting.

“So then the next story girls tell when they want to talk about love will be yours. At least it’ll be a real story this time, too.”

Willa doesn’t enter your room, but she does let you know that someone has booked you for the whole night.

Pro: guaranteed money.

Con: only a real freak would do that.

You’re not sure what to expect, but you do prepare yourself for the worst.

If you survived everything before this, you can survive this.

You repeat the mantra in your head until you get sick of it, and by the time the door swings on its hinges, you are nothing but calm and collected.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Fresh, clean, and looking even better than your memories cited him to be, Warrior Candidate Colt is standing in your room.

“Hi, honey,” you greet him, same as you would anybody else. There’s a sadistic sort of satisfaction that settles in your system when you see a wounded expression on his healed-up face. The sad puppy dog eyes he unknowingly gives you is almost enough to shatter your resolve.

Good stories don’t come from places like these. There is no man looking for love here. Don’t act like a child and hang on to some stupid hope.

“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like how people who have their heads underwater for a prolonged period of time gasp for air the moment they’re able to have their head above the surface. Like he needs air, like life is being shot right back into his system. Like how the men from those nights before had groaned those women’s names.

“You plan on just standing there the whole night?” Like a good hostess, you pat down the empty space on the bed next to you. He swallows hard, eyeing the bed, staring at it like he’s remembering the last time he was in here with you.

“If that’s what you want me to do.”

There he goes again, with the wanting, with the letting you take control. You want to ask him why he left you alone for two weeks, but that still won’t account for why it hurt you so much. You want him to tell you that he’s sorry, but you know he doesn’t owe you an apology. He’s technically nothing to you, or at least, he should be. You want him to sit down on this bed so you can play with his perfect hair and admire his perfect face and play pretend that this is the type of good story where the man loves the woman, and everything ends happily. You want, you want, you want.

But that’s not the role you decided on. You are not The Girl Who Wants. You’re a prostitute who calls people honey and doesn’t form any emotional attachments to the men who walk into this room. This character — she knows nothing about bruise ointment and thick socks, the fear of seeing his bruised face, the peacefulness of him sleeping soundly in the bed, the gentle way he whispered your name in the dark, half-asleep but determined to say it still. The curve of his lips, the smile on his features after he said it — none of that has happened to her.

“Oh, come on, honey. Don’t be shy.” You cock your head, looking at him and wishing to see nothing but a stranger in his place. “Don’t tell me it’s your first time?”

Oh, Colt realizes. So this is what it’s like to be stabbed.

He wonders if he was so insignificant to you that he truly didn’t make a lasting impression. The faint memory of his hair being played with, the careful way you applied the ointment, everything, was all just a fleeting moment in time. What he has spent time savoring, clinging onto, reaching for, has meant nothing.

“I should go.” He blurts out, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

What would this character do? Let him go? Let him walk out and celebrate how you have a peaceful night to yourself and you’re getting paid? Tease him?

“Um, before I do, I just wanted to give you this.” He pulls out a plain black box. When he walks over to hand it to you, you instantly feel the smoothness of the fabric. It’s velvet. Expensive, and it’s not even the gift, just the case it’s in. “If you don’t like it, I can always return it.” He cannot. The jeweler on base had been very adamant that he does not do returns. Kids in the military fancy the idea of marrying young, but if the jeweler accepted every returned ring and necklace that came his way, he wouldn’t have money, just refurbished jewelry. Who the hell wants to buy a returned engagement ring? The jeweler had asked him. Sounds like a fuckin’ curse.

Inside the case is a simple silver watch. It has a thin band, with a tiny face, but it’s shiny and pretty, and it looks way too nice. You hesitantly remove it from the case, only to realize that it has some weight to it, too. Clearly, this wasn’t cheap.

You look up at him, shocked, surprised. You know you hurt him and if you felt bad for your treatment of him before, you feel infinitely worse now.

“Time seems very important.” He explains, sometimes staring at his polished shoes as if he’s never seen them before, sometimes letting his eyes flicker up towards your face, almost like he wants to gauge your reaction. “I figured a watch would be useful. To track time. To make sure that no one wastes yours, or tries to claim that they spent less time than they actually did—”

“I love it.” You tell him.

There’s that pleasant warm feeling he gets inside of him every time you praise him. You like — no, love — something he’s picked out for you! He wants to launch into the story of how he got it, tell you how he spent two hours in that store trying to get it just right, how he’s happy that you like it because he can’t return it. He doesn’t, though. He just gives you a small smile and is about to head back to base until you ask him,

“Why were you gone for so long?”

You’re in a tiny room, and yet, you want to make your voice even tinier. You say the words like you’re scared they’re going to come alive and punch you in the face. If there is one person in the world who wouldn’t use how small you feel against you, it’s the soldier standing right in front of you.

He drops to his knees immediately.

“Oh.” He looks like he wants to reach for you, to cradle your face. It’s a military feat, the type of self-restraint he possesses. All those years of depriving himself, of telling himself he’s not allowed to want, are suddenly paying off. “No, no, I swear to you I didn’t stop showing up because I didn’t want to see you anymore. After the last time I was here, I missed curfew, and my commanding officer wouldn’t give me permission to leave until today. Please, look at me.” The last sentence comes out all strangled and pained, like if you don’t, he might just do something stupid, like run out into traffic.

It is an odd feeling to be the one who looks down on someone for once. He’s so tall, even on his knees and even with you sitting upright on the bed, his eyes are still practically level with your own. Sincere.

That’s what he is.

You can tell just by looking into his eyes. He may stutter and choke on his words, but his eyes tell you enough. He is pleading with you, he is searching for forgiveness that he should have never needed in the first place, he is everything.

“Colt.” You remember thinking to yourself, how would it feel to hear someone say your name with such rampant desire? You should’ve been wondering, how does it feel to be the one who desires?

You say his name, and he knows it means forgiveness. You say his name, and he knows it means want. You say his name, and he knows it means something, but he doesn’t dare to dream so big, not yet.

“You forgive me?”

It’s hard to say no to someone who looks like that. With the way he’s staring up at you, all hopeful and earnest, you realize that he truly has no idea of his effect on people.

“Help me put this watch on, soldier. Pretty please?” You get to swing your feet a little, happily extending out your wrist so he can wrap the watch around it for you.

“Too tight?” He asks you, brows furrowed, focused on the dainty piece. You’ve never realized just how big his hands are. One of these nights, you’re going to convince him to let you take a finger and trace the whole entire expanse of his broad hands.

Colt handles things gently. You wonder if it’s hard to be so soft and caring all the time, especially when he so clearly has a soldier’s hand. All rough calluses and thick fingers. Maybe being soft and caring is just in his nature. His chemical makeup is all sugar.

“Nope. It’s perfect as is.”

He clasps it for you, a tiny, satisfying click locking it in place. He takes a seat next to you on the bed, and it creaks under his weight.

“Did you really think I just left you?” He sounds hurt, and once again, the overwhelming feeling of not being a very nice person comes back to hit you in the face.

You try to think of how to properly word it in a way that wouldn’t make him feel any worse.

“In my line of work, it’s usually the man that does the leaving. I’ll still always be here, so I guess that makes it easier to find me if they ever decide to come back.” You shrug, like it’s just that simple. Judging by the wounded look on his face, it’s clear that you weren’t successful in your task to not make him feel any worse.

Colt normally doesn’t have an issue with speaking without thinking. He’s always been held to a much higher standard than any of his other peers, and he’s always used to treading carefully. But he can’t seem to help himself whenever he’s around you; you look at him, and all his carefully constructed self-restraint evaporates.

“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to leave you.”

You think back to your group of giggling girls — sisters, or at least, the closest thing you will ever get — and how it’s in all of your instincts to look out for one another.

Be careful of the smooth talkers, Alize always warns you all. They seem like they’re the nicest men you’ll ever meet. They’ll fatten you up with sweet kisses and hope, only to let you down in the end. You’ll say, ‘but Alize! He would never hurt me in the same way all these other men do!’, and I’ll tell you right now, he might not hit you or choke you or even call you filthy names, but no matter what he does, he’s going to find a way to disappoint you. To reveal that he is not sweet.

And that betrayal is going to hurt the worst.

Just a couple of days with Colt, and his absence left you desperate, lonely. Who’s to say that he just won’t leave you again? You search his eyes, looking for a hint of dishonesty, for uncertainty, for boredom — anything that will tell you that he doesn’t mean what he said. That he’s just talking. That this is all just a game, a soldier wanting to stir up a different kind of war.

Survival instincts, a choice to be made: fight or flight.

You’ve seen your fair share of handsome men. Believe it or not, attractive people frequent brothels too. You don’t normally make a habit of studying your clients, but Colt’s face is so close to your own, and the last time you had a chance to look at him in such close proximity, he had clearly just lost a fight.

The tall bridge of his nose is slightly crooked, noticeable only when you stare at him too closely and for too long. It looks like it was broken and the doctor hadn’t cared to make sure he was even straightening the bone when he fixed it. The tips of his blond hair hang over his forehead, casting tiny shadows, adding dimension to his face. His eyes aren’t the plain brown they appear to be. There are tiny flecks of lighter hues, almost golden, little rays of sunlight filtering his point of view.

You don’t want to go about life always in a constant state of survival. You want to live.

“And are you? Going to leave?” A challenge. A soldier pulling back the safety on her gun, hands shaking, but the barrel is still pointed straight at him. Finger on the trigger.

“Only if you want me to.”

Disarmed.

Colt’s finishing up a retelling of his first kiss. You think it’s cute how he gets so easily embarrassed, and it doesn’t help that you keep asking questions he doesn’t anticipate, prolonging the story.

“Was she cute?” You ask. You’re laying on your belly, body spread comfortably over the mattress. Colt resigns himself to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce. The floor must be cold and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, and it makes you wonder about his training.

You think about Colt’s life a lot. He’s the most open and honest person you’ve ever encountered, and sometimes, you forget that all you have to do is ask him, and he’ll tell you.

“She was considered to be pretty, yes.”

“Diplomatic answer!” You point at him, laughing. Happy. “Did you think she was cute?”

“I did.” He says, looking down immediately after, playing absentmindedly with a piece of lint on the floor.

“You did? Well, gee, what happened to her?” Colt doesn’t seem like the type to judge based on physical appearance. You think about Willa’s scars, and then picture them on your face. Would Colt still look at you the same way if your face’s flaws were staring back at him, head on?

“Nothing. She’s actually married now.”

“Oh. So you don’t have a thing for married women?” That seems like the type of respectful mannerisms Colt would possess. The more time you spend with him, the more you realize that he truly is a good man. Not for glory, not for praise, but good for the sake of being good.

“Sure.” He doesn’t tell you that no woman looks attractive to him after he’s seen you. It would sound sappy, or even worse, disingenuous. “Let’s go with that.”

You narrow your pretty eyes at him, almost like you’re trying to appear stern, to get him to give in and tell you the full answer. Instead, you relax your face, the left side of your cheek pressed against your arm as you stare at him sideways. “I bet you’ve been with a lot of pretty girls.” It’s supposed to be a teasing remark, but to your ears, you are nervously aware of the hints of jealousy creeping in your tone.

“My bunkmates will have you believing that.” It’s a running joke within the soldiers to make fun of Colt. One year, a list got exposed, where the girls in all the units voted on who they thought was the most handsome soldier. Colt had won by a pretty wide margin. A landslide victory. He had stayed hidden in his room, only leaving when absolutely necessary, for a whole week.

“Tell me about your first girlfriend.”

“I never had one.” Admitting it out loud to you makes him feel like a loser.

“So you’re a—”

“No!” He’s blushing. “I—”

“You totally seduce women into warming your bed every night, and then you kick them out! You probably don’t even wait ‘til the morning! You make them leave right after you’re finished!” The exaggerated accusation makes you laugh, and you can’t stop because the horrified, distressed look on his face is so cute, it’s so obvious that what you said is far from the truth. The satisfaction you feel from Colt’s unchanging relationship status makes you feel gross, like you’re an awful person for taking pleasure in having him all to yourself.

You’re aware, of course, that the two of you haven’t even touched, save for your fingers on his face that one night. In the future, Colt is probably going to marry some beautiful, blushing bride, and he will have forgotten all about you. Foolishly, you cast aside those self-preserving thoughts, the ones that warn you not to get too attached. It’s been so long since you didn’t have to share with anyone else; who can blame you for wanting to take all of Colt’s attention?

“I would never!” He exclaims, his indignation endearing.

As stoic as your soldier appears to be, you know the truth: Colt is a reactive person. You can read him from the way his brows are furrowed, or from the rush of blood and heat to his cheeks and ears, or even from the imperceptible movements of his fingers, of his hands. Colt is one hundred percent alive — full of life. Brimming with it. Overflowing with it, and sometimes, you get lucky, and you get to snatch up some of the excess, jar it, save it on the cold, dark nights where he can’t come and see you.

“I know.” You’re smiling at him.

In fact, you would tell him that you’re damn near certain that he gets a big fat A-plus for aftercare. You can tell how a man will treat you by how he handles everything else. Colt is careful with his hands, with sure and steady movements, and he treats fragile things gently. You think about how it felt to have the tips of his calloused fingers brush against the palm of your hand when he brought you the ointment, how it felt like a shot of adrenaline.

Feeling pity for him, you toy with the threadbare sheet underneath your body. You want to look him in the eyes when you tell him this, so he knows you’re not just playing coy or teasing him. You want to fill him up with the same sincerity he seems to effortlessly give to you.

Colt is deceptively cute; with his flushed expression and defensive stance on his character, it is too easy to overlook the fact that he’s a soldier, built for battle, bred for war.

Being honest is scary. You don’t know how he manages it every second of his life.

“I’ve never been kissed before.”

Colt doesn’t know what to say to that. You don’t even know what you’re expecting him to say.

“I hope it’s good. When you do get kissed.” He tells you. “You deserve to have it be good.”

Oh. You didn’t know that this was what you wanted to hear until he went out and said it.

“We’re going out for drinks tonight,” Pieck says, with her body draped all sorts of way across the couch. Lounging. Like a cat, Colt thinks.

Porco pokes her back, and she shoots him a lazy, half-assed glare with no real venom behind it. “You’re takin’ up all the space on the couch.”

“I just got back from an assignment. This feels comfortable.” As if doubling-down on her decision, Pieck shimmies her body, getting more settled in. Colt feels like she’ll sink into the cushions if they leave her unattended.

Porco grumbles something, and then speaks up when he asks, “What’s the point of going out for drinks anyway?”

“It’ll boost morale.” Pieck says. “We captured an enemy port, and soldiers were sent back home. Might as well go out and celebrate.”

“The port we captured was tiny and not worth a damn.” Porco points out.

Pieck ignores this very factual statement. “All the Eldian units will be going out tonight. There’s no harm in attending.”

“Whose idea was this, anyway? For all we know, this is a Marleyan officer’s ploy to get most of us too drunk off our asses to notice them ushering us into a navy ship so they can shoot us out of cannons.”

At the beginning of the Mid-East War, Marleyan citizens were hopeful that this would be a conflict resolved swiftly and succinctly. With the two year anniversary and no end in sight, the effects of war are starting to settle in the country. More posters are being hung up about not wasting food or precious resources, more colorful pamphlets filled with propaganda are being delivered to schoolhouses, and every week, organizations are taking up donations to help cover military costs. If Porco doesn’t shut up, a Marleyan officer might hear and take him up on the offer; it’ll save on ammunition costs, at least.

Seeing Porco’s stance on the invitation (a pretty obvious rejection), Pieck turns her attention to Colt. “You know, there are some Eldian nurses who would like to meet you.”

“He has a girlfriend. I told you this already!” Porco interjects.

“Is that true?” She asks Colt. “You have a girlfriend?”

Now Porco’s staring at him. Colt feels very much like he’s being put on the spot, and he doesn’t enjoy this feeling one bit.

“Well, she’s a girl. And I would say we’re friends.”

Porco groans. “Don’t be so pathetic, Grice.”

If Pieck was feeling up to it, she would have slapped Porco on Colt’s behalf. Instead, she tosses him a lifeline. “You could bring her to the bar. Girlfriend or friend that’s a girl; whatever she is. It’ll probably help you out if your plan is to not get approached by girls tonight.”

Colt latches on, grateful. “Sure. I’ll ask her.”

He does ask you, albeit not as smoothly as he initially plans on. He wants to toss out the question, all casual-like, like no big deal, but I was wondering if you wanted to get drinks with my friends and fellow soldiers?

What ends up happening is that he starts rambling. Somewhere between his nervous declaration that “it’s entirely your choice, and I don’t want you to feel obligated” and his speedrun of his relationship with everyone attending (��Porco only sounds like that, but he’s a nice guy when he tries, so just don’t take anything he says to heart”), you laugh.

He doesn’t know what it means to you, the fact that he doesn’t mind being seen with you. In front of, not just strangers, but people that he actually sees when the sun is up.

“Well, with a business pitch like that, how could I say no? What night are you taking me?”

“It’s tonight.” Colt says, and you just stare at him, like he’s from a different planet. “Does tonight not work for you?” He knows that he bought all your time for tonight, just in the hopes that you would say yes.

“I’m not dressed appropriately to go out to a bar and meet all your friends!” You point at your nightdress, the almost-translucent gown that would glow in the moonlight, if only you actually had a window in this room. The clothes that you wear on your way to the brothel are folded neatly in your dresser next to the bed, but somehow those feel like rags compared to what you’re sure his friends and their girlfriends are going to be wearing.

“I could walk you home first, and you could change.” He suggests helpfully, but the idea of Colt stepping foot in your camp only serves to add to your panic.

“No!” You wince when you realize how loud you got, how harsh it sounds. “No, we can’t go to my place. My brother is probably sleeping, and I don’t want to bother him.” Again, it’s not a lie. But as the weeks go by, as months pass by, you are aware that you are falling deeper and deeper into Colt’s pull. Having him stand inside your home feels too intimate, like you’ll be past the point of no return if this were to happen.

“That’s okay.” He tells you. “I don’t care what we do. I just want to spend time with you.”

Right when you think he can’t pull you any deeper, he says something — says it so sincerely, too — that grabs you by your ankle and tugs you back to his side. You let yourself get pulled away.

“I have a change of clothes here.” You say, pulling open the dresser drawer. Colt looks like he’s about to say something, but then you start yanking your current nightgown over your head, and after taking it off yourself completely, you’re still only met with silence.

His back is turned to you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, daring to step a couple steps towards him, even going so far as to brush your fingers against his shoulder, a silent plea for him to turn around.

“No.” The word comes out sounding tight and tense.

“Colt, did I do something wrong?”

He shuts his eyes even tighter, willing himself not to turn around. The ghost of your touch lingers on the surface of his shoulder, and the flash of skin he glimpsed at before he realized you were undressing lives rent-free in his mind. Are you still undressed right now? The thought of you being near naked, saying his name so sweetly, is torturous.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong at all.” He breathes out. He tries to focus on mundane things. He tries to think about the slop they served for lunch on base. He tries to think about tossing a baseball back and forth with Zeke. He thinks about Porco, who chews with his mouth open and burps without warning.

“Then why aren’t you looking at me?”

You do something to him. He doesn’t know what, isn’t sure if there’s a word in the dictionary that would properly describe it, but you do.

“You’re getting undressed. It wouldn’t be…proper of me to look.”

You didn’t think hearts could feel this way, with this tightness that surely isn’t good for your health. He says the silliest things sometimes, and it gives your tummy a nervous, fluttering feeling. All the men who have seen you naked don’t even know your name. Colt is standing here, knowing more about you than all of those men combined, and he won’t even look at your body. You wonder if he would turn around if you asked him to.

You wonder if you want him to.

Scared of what your answer might be, you’re quick to throw on the dress you originally left the house with, awkwardly smoothing it down even though you don’t think there are any wrinkles.

“You can look now.”

He turns around slowly, almost like he’s afraid that you’re tricking him, but then he takes you in. Takes in the faded yellowness of the dress, and the peek of white cotton that sticks out from your shoes because the socks stop right above your ankle. He likes seeing you dressed in colors, he decides. If this is how good you look in the dark, he can only imagine seeing you in the daylight. You’d have him frozen in the middle of the street with just a single glance, he reckons.

“You’re beautiful.”

He says this, and it strips you naked. Not in a way that you’re used to, either. You feel seen, like he sees everything about you and still isn’t disgusted. You’ve been called a lot of things, but never beautiful. You think you could continue living in this wretched brothel for the rest of your life with just the memory of this high to keep you going.

“So, you’re the girlfriend,”

You know, instinctively, that this is the “Porco” Colt had attempted to warn you about. You adjust the thick jacket hanging on your shoulders. It’s a cold night and a long walk from the district to the bar; you don’t know how Colt didn’t freeze to death in just the thin long sleeve he wears underneath his military uniform.

“Is that what he told you? That I’m his girlfriend?”

“Not explicitly. But it was implied.” Porco does not mention that it was certainly not implied, but rather was an idea that he kept forcing upon Colt, and really, no one likes arguing with Porco. It’s best to just go along with whatever he says and hope he gets bored and leaves you alone.

“It was not implied,” someone new enters the conversation, taking the stool next to Porco. She’s a very pretty girl. A flash of white-hot envy burns in your heart, sizzles down to your stomach, makes you hyper-aware of your body and sense of self. She’s sporting a red armband, same as Porco.

“Hi.” She smiles at you, soft and incredibly friendly. “I’m Pieck.”

You smile back, too afraid to open your mouth and accidentally say something wrong. Colt is on the other side of the bar, trying to calm down the rowdy soldiers who are all repeatedly screaming at him to take a shot. They had dragged him away from you the moment the two of you entered the bar together, and he shot you such a panicked look that you realized you would have to be the strong one and remain calm.

As if feeling your gaze on him, he turns around. Locking eyes with him from so far away, in such a public space, makes this feel even more real. The weight of his jacket keeps you grounded, makes you not slip off the stool because you’ve never seen him look at you so intensely.

“Shot! Shot! Shot!” Cheers erupt from the crowd of soldiers as they gleefully watch Colt finally take the damn shot. You watch the way he tips his head back, the way his angular jaw seems sharp enough to cut, the way you can see him swallow down the alcohol. The small glass looks impossibly tinier when it’s being held in his hand.

You don’t realize how hard you’re watching him until loud laughter breaks your concentration.

“I can’t believe it! Grice really does have a girlfriend. Or, at least a girl who likes him.” Porco wipes at the corner of his eyes, as if he’s been laughing so hard, tears sprang up. Pieck rolls her eyes at her friend’s antics, mouthing out an I’m sorry, before tugging on Porco’s arm.

“Let’s go. You’re being annoying.” She shoots you an apologetic look. “He’s drunk. And probably jealous. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t exactly get as much attention as Colt.”

“Hey, I’m still here!” He grumbles.

“It was really nice meeting you. I hope we’ll get a chance to meet again.” As she drags Porco away, you catch snippets of their conversation. Mainly from Porco, whose loud voice seems to boom over every other loud noise in this bar.

“She’s not Eldian. What the hell is Grice thinking?”

The warm buzz of happiness from tonight dissipates. Porco isn’t wrong; you aren’t Eldian. This hadn’t seemed like such a major issue up until now, and before you can get up to try and get some fresh air, to regroup and think about what your next move should be, Colt appears.

“Hi.” He says, cheeks pink. He’s been drinking some more. If the soldiers put as much effort into fighting as they do in goading Colt Grice to drink his weight in alcohol, the Mid-East War would have been over a year ago.

“Hi.”

“How are we doin’?” His words come out a little slurred, sliding off his tongue but getting jumbled up together in the process.

“I’m doing fine. I’m not so sure about you, though.” You poke his stomach, but are only met with the feel of hard, taut muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt.

He frowns. “I’m happy you’re here, y’know. But us — how are we doing?”

“I think we’re doing just fine, too.” You gesture to the stool next to you. “Take a seat, soldier. You look like you’re going to fall over any second now.”

He ignores your suggestion, still frowning. “You’re lyin’. What happened?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about right now.”

“Every time something’s wrong with us, you make that face.” He shakes his head. “I like everything about your face, don’t get me wrong, but it’s this look you give me. Like you hate starin’ at me, like it makes you sad. And every time you give me that look, you say something, like callin’ me ‘honey.’”

You thought men were supposed to be oblivious creatures. You feel like Colt Grice is the first person to notice everything about you, and you thought you would hate it, the feeling of being utterly exposed, and maybe it would be, if it were anyone else. But it’s Colt. For a soldier, he hasn’t turned anything into a weapon against you yet, and you’re starting to think that maybe he never will.

You decide to be just as unfiltered as he is.

“I’m not Eldian. Your friend pointed it out.”

“Who did?” And then Colt turns around, his movements loose and a bit unsteady. “Who said that to you?”

“It wasn’t an insult, Colt.” You play with the sleeve of his jacket. “He was probably just being realistic.”

“Porco.” Colt says this flatly. “Porco told you that.”

“No, he told it to Pieck when she was dragging him away. I don’t think I was supposed to hear.”

“But you did. And now you’re having second thoughts.”

“I’m not, it’s just—” You tighten his jacket around your shoulders once more, breathing in the familiar scent of the soap he uses. “I wouldn’t fit into your perfect life. I know you’re popular around here, that girls are lining up to date you.” Your sentences come out shaky. Vulnerability sucks. You never want to grapple with it ever again.

“Hey,” he says softly. His hand reaches up to cradle your face. You can feel the warmth of his hand pressed against you, gently tilting your head until you’re staring up at him. His thumb caresses the top of your cheekbone. He thinks you feel softer than you look, and he doesn’t think it’s possible for you to be made out of flesh and bone, like a regular human. He thinks you’re made of something softer, sweeter, otherworldly. Like a cloud, or cotton-candy. He’s so, so scared that he’s going to blink, and you’re going to disappear.

The overwhelming urge of want kicks him right in the stomach. He wants to kiss you, wants to feel the shape of your lips and see how they align with his. He wants to bundle you up in his clothes, this senseless want making his brain act all possessive over you.

“Here I am, thinking I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” His thumb traces your cheek.

You think he’s going to kiss you now. You think you’re not going to stop him.

A loud crash comes from nearby. Two men sitting further down the bar are getting into it now, and as if his body forgets that he’s drunk, Colt moves quickly. He instinctively moves his body in front of yours, shielding you from any potential danger. He assesses the situation, eyes narrowing at how more people seem to want to pile on top of the men.

“I think it’s time we called it a night.” Colt mumbles, helping you off the stool and pressing you to his side as he guides you to safety.

“Do you want me to walk you home? Just to make sure you get there safely. I won’t interrupt your brother’s sleep, or anything.” He asks you, taking special care in making sure that you don’t accidentally trip on anything. It’s dark outside, after all.

“You can just take me back to the brothel. I normally walk back home with the other girls.” You try to stifle your yawn, but of course he notices.

“Let me know if you get too tired. I can carry you back.”

If he kissed you, you would have definitely let him. You would have even kissed him back.

You know it’s supposed to be a cold night, but with his jacket draped over your body, you don’t feel a single breeze.

“Ramzi! Stop throwing stuff around! I just cleaned.” You chastise your brother, refolding his blanket and placing it inside his trunk.

“I don’t get it. Why are you cleaning so much?” He mumbles, crossing his arms and pouting at you. You’re in too good of a mood to let his attitude bother you. Instead, you pinch his cheek, already mourning his future loss of baby fat.

“Because someone is coming over to visit.”

Colt’s jacket is folded neatly, freshly washed and even ironed. The night he took you out to the bar seemed to have solidified your relationship with him, or at least, it eased any leftover doubts you had. Colt Grice is a good man.

And he wants you. You! It’s been a week since the night at the bar, and Colt keeps telling you that he doesn’t need the jacket back, that he doesn’t mind you wearing it, but you’ve been searching for an opportunity to see him again. Rather than just flat-out admitting to him that you want him — trust him enough — to finally see you in the comfort of your own home, you like to mastermind situations, just to test his receptivity.

When you tell him, feigning a nonchalant attitude, that he can stop by the camp and pick up his jacket, you try to gauge his reaction. He can’t even contain his smile, which makes you drop the whole “cool” act and smile right back at him.

Your fingers brushed against his as you passed him the piece of paper detailing where he could find you. Before Colt, you figure you could spend the rest of your life never being touched by another man again and be just fine. After feeling the contact of his skin touching your own, always innocently, always fleeting, all this want started building up in your body. You’re overflowing with yearning. The only consolation you have is knowing that he feels the same way.

Porco is an opinionated person. Colt is well aware of that. Sometimes, it even feels like Porco goes out of his way to be as reactionary as possible, just because he likes to push people’s buttons.

“Did you hear about the Eldian couple that went missing? Brass doesn’t even give a single shit. The officers assigned to the case are just dicking around.”

Occasionally, though, Porco will have a point. The world is most likely ending when that happens.

“I’m not too surprised. Some officers don’t take missing persons reports seriously.” The answer is about as opinionated as Colt dares to get. Ever since childhood, he’s had the sinking feeling that he’s always being watched. For all he knows, the whole entire base is bugged.

Porco makes a disgusted face. “You mean when it comes to missing Eldians, they don’t take the reports seriously.”

Colt doesn’t correct him, which in and of itself is a confirmation of Colt’s stance on the matter. Seeing that complaining about the situation isn’t going to change anything, Porco sighs before continuing to walk alongside him.

“Where’re you going so early in the afternoon? You’re going to miss lunch. Heard it might actually be edible today.”

“I’m visiting someone.”

“The girl.” Porco shakes his head. “When are you gonna give her up, man? I’m not saying it to be an asshole—” That would be a first, Colt thinks. “—but get real. Are you seriously going to mess up everything for a Marleyan girl?” He at least has the decency to whisper the last part, lest the two of them get taken out back to get shot in the head.

“Porco,” Colt says calmly, trying to hold in his laughter. “She’s not Marleyan. She’s a refugee.”

“Well, fuck!” Porco whacks Colt’s shoulder. “Good for you, Grice. Knew you weren’t that stupid.”

Colt certainly feels stupid. He looks over the note you gave him, but no matter how many times he rereads it, he still can’t find your tent.

There are people outside, walking, laughing, kids running and playing make-believe. Honestly, it’s a similar scene as any other neighborhood in Liberio, Eldian or Marleyan. The only difference is that instead of pavement and sidewalks, it’s nothing but green grass and a sparkling lake in the distance. He knows that the living conditions might not be ideal, but taking in the camp and viewing it under the sun, it looks peaceful. Like home.

He can see why you wouldn’t trust just anyone to enter.

He ventures further into the camp, but all the tents seem to blur and blend in with each other. Most are mainly built with some type of white cloth, but the whole place seems to be bursting with color. Different colored curtains dot the landscape. He spots people rolling out intricately designed rugs. He smells spices sizzling in a pan.

He’s acutely aware of the watchful eyes of everyone around him. Colt is no stranger to public scrutiny, but it feels different this time around. He doesn’t want to do anything that would make them hate him. You told him, once, that everyone here knows your name. He knows that that’s important to you, which means that these people are important to you.

Colt pauses, tries to take in his surroundings, ground himself. Maybe word will spread that there’s an idiotic soldier traipsing around people’s backyards, and hopefully it’ll reach your ears and you’ll halt the manhunt for him. A reasonable person would ask someone for help, but he’s aware of how he’s viewed. For all he knows, reaching out would do more harm than good. Believe it or not, he knows when people are scared of him.

“Excuse me, are you looking for someone?” A tiny voice pipes up, and Colt looks down. There’s a girl speaking to him, with wide eyes and a long braid running down her back.

“I am, actually!” Colt places the paper back inside his pocket. “Do you think you can help me?”

“You’re looking for a brothel worker, right?”

Colt wonders if you’ve ever spoken about him to anyone else. He doesn’t need to wonder why he likes the idea of that.

“I am.”

The stares get more intense when he has this girl skipping by his side. She tells him her name, Nadia. He tells her that’s a very nice name, and he means it.

“Did you bring her food?” She asks, sounding eager.

He didn’t, but now he’s thinking he should have. Are you hungry? Is he supposed to bring you food? He had been so excited at the prospect of seeing you, of getting to be with during the day, that he didn’t think much about anything else.

Before he can answer, you’re sticking your head out the tent, smiling brightly.

“Colt!”

Breathless. That’s how he feels.

He thinks you were made to be seen in the sun.

“You found me!” Your smiles come easily when you’re at home. He wants so badly for you to always be like this: happy and carefree.

“Nadia helped.” He nods to where the girl should be standing, but she had already sneaked off the moment she saw you come out. “Should I have brought food?”

“Oh, that’s just… It’s a cultural thing. From our country. Don’t worry about it.” You grab his hand, tugging gently. “Come in, I’ll give you a house tour!”

He follows you, but he’s thinking over your words. Since you told him to specifically not worry about it, Colt knows that he is going to spend many restless nights doing the exact opposite of your request.

The tent is spacious. The way it’s arranged, it’s comfortable to stand in, even without fear of your head hitting the ceiling. The carpet cushions the hard packed earth underneath, and there’s a wooden table in the middle. You’re watching him closely, trying to catch the first signs of disappointment or disgust, but all you see is pure curiosity.

“Well, one thing ruins the whole place.” He says, shaking his head like he’s sad he has to say this. “It’s so ugly, I can’t believe you left it in here.” He picks up his jacket, wrinkling his nose. “Seriously, I’m surprised you didn’t toss this outside.”

You laugh, relief flooding through your veins. “You’re the most unserious soldier I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t believe that. I’ve seen the state of our military.” He slings his spare jacket over one shoulder. He’s not sure what you had planned for today, but he’s hoping you want to spend it with him.

“They should make you their leader, then. I think you’d straighten them all out.” Reaching for his hand comes naturally to you, and he doesn’t ever say anything when you slip your fingers in between his. Walking back out to camp, Ramzi comes barreling towards the two of you.

“Ramzi, what’s wrong?” You immediately crouch down to hug your brother, who’s gasping and panting for breath.

“You can’t marry this soldier! You can’t!” Peeking his head out from the embrace you have him in, Ramzi’s eyes narrow at Colt.

“Ramzi!” You pull back, shocked. You’re clearly embarrassed, and Colt wants to tell you that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but he’s not sure if that would actually help. “Why would you say that?”

“You promised Malik you would marry him!”

“I— Ramzi, go inside. Now.” Your voice is shaking. Nerves. Anger. Panic. You know that Ramzi looks up to Malik. The minute you told Ramzi that a friend, a Warrior Unit soldier, would be coming, he had been excited. He ran out, in search of the toy soldier figurines he let some other children borrow because he wanted to present them to Colt.

You’re not sure when discussions of marriage came up.

It’s true that Malik intends on proposing. For a while, you even accepted it, resigned to your fate. Nothing was ever official, but he had been the one to make sure that you and Ramzi were taken care of when you first landed in Marley. He brought you food during times when there wasn’t even enough for his own family to eat, and before you started at the brothel, he always took care in securing you clothes and blankets. He watches over Ramzi, just like he would his own little brothers. You don’t think you’re capable of love, not in the romantic sense, and you’re fine with that. True love is a rare commodity, and you’ve been living in survival mode for so long, you didn’t even see the point in searching for it.

Besides, you could do much worse than Malik.

On the night when Ramzi was sick and the sounds of his sniffles started mixing in with the memories of those men and their groans of those unreachable women’s names, you weren’t in the mood to talk. Malik had been sitting on the ground, tea cups sitting on the table. He stayed up, watching over Ramzi, as promised, but also to make sure you would make it home and so he could have a chat with you, as promised.

You sit across from him, tucking your feet underneath you. The tea brewed at the camp isn’t as strong as Willa’s, and you regret not drinking what she offered you. The cup Malik slides over to you pales in comparison. It’s cold, you realize dejectedly, when you take a sip. It’s cold, and bitter.

“We’ve known each other for a long time now.” He clears his throat, looks you in the eyes. “You must know my intentions?”

“What intentions?”

You’re not blind. You know Malik is handsome, with his tanned skin and dark curls. He fills out his shirts well, from all the manual labor he does around the town, twelve to fourteen hour work days depending on how fast it gets dark outside. As far as options go, Malik might be the best person to shack up with.

“I would like for us to get married.”

Colt had been gone. The bad part about having someone take up space in your heart is that you realize what an empty organ it is when they disappear. At this moment, you’re exhausted, and cold, and you don’t want to talk anymore. You want to curl up next to Ramzi, and sleep this whole entire year off, and maybe, if you’re lucky, you won’t even wake up.

“The proposal ritual. Are you saying you’re going to go through with that?”

“There’s only one last thing to do, right?”

He says it in a way that makes you feel like a whore. You don’t waste your time daydreaming because there’s simply no point in it. Sometimes, though, you give in. Close your eyes. Picture a nameless, faceless man as your husband. When your husband fucks you, you think sex will be different. It’ll be making love, even. The euphemism always made you giggle; how corny, you would think to yourself. Call it what it is: fucking.

But wouldn’t it be nice to want to feel someone’s touch and know that they love you?

No. People in love are always the corniest people in existence. You think infatuation must cause some horrible imbalances in the body and brain or something, because the moment someone meets their One True Love, they start acting irrational. All the girls in the brothel made a pact: if one of you ever falls in love and starts acting a fool, you all have permission to slap the offending girl out of it.

In your culture, a man proposes through a series of tests. Considering the circumstances, the elders are willing to acknowledge the bare minimum. First, the man must present the girl with clothes and then food. It proves that he’s a provider. Then, the potential couple lays together. When she lets him in her bed, it’s her acceptance to the proposal.

“Three months,” is what you tell Malik. “Three months, and I will give you my answer.”

The deadline for your answer is fast approaching. There’s barely three weeks for you to decide whether or not you allow Malik into your bed. Three months ago, you considered your answer to be a reluctant yes. What else could you say? No? You thought about it, thought about spending the rest of your life living on your charm and resilience. How much longer could you survive in the brothel? Youth and beauty sells — not old, damaged goods. Now, when you brush the grass stains from your skirt, you look at Colt and feel conflicted.

You need to give Malik an answer — and soon. Before Colt re-entered your life, you knew what you needed to do to ensure survival. Now, you know what you want in your life. Needing versus wanting. Surviving versus living.

“Want to walk me to an exit?” Colt offers a hand to help pull you up. You can’t read the expression on his face, and you realize it’s because he’s purposely working hard to shut you out. You can’t even be upset with him for it.

The two of you walk together in silence.

“It’s not official.” You offer up, when you can’t take it anymore. You’re not a very talkative person, but it feels weird to have something hanging over the two of you, left unsaid. Even if he never wants to see you again, you want to lay it all out.

“Your brother seems passionate about it.” Colt points out.

“Ramzi doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

A beat.

“If it’s not official, there’s definitely something unofficial going on, though, right?”

“I guess.”

“Is he nice? The man giving you an unofficial proposal?”

“He’s Malik.” You say flatly. “He is… The best option.” Your only option.

“But does he treat you well?” Colt presses.

“What does it matter?” You snap, stopping so you can turn to face him. You will not cry. “Who cares if he’s nice?”

“It matters because it’s you! I care, I want to know that you are living well. That you get the life you deserve.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the intensity of his words wraps around you, squeezes you tight.

That’s the issue with Colt, you think to yourself. He makes it so damn hard to hate him.

“Maybe I do deserve this. Maybe this is as good as it gets for me in this life.”

You turn your back on him, heading right back to your tent. You will not cry. Colt is so stupid. He probably thinks marriage is built on silly things, like love. You will not cry.

Putting one foot in front of the other takes a tremendous amount of effort, but you make progress. When you think you’re a far enough distance to not run immediately back to his side, you dare to turn around.

He’s still rooted in the same spot you left him, staring at you with the most wounded, tortured look you’ve ever seen on a person.

When you’re so far that your figure becomes a tiny speck in the distance, and then that tiny speck disappears, only then does Colt move from his position. He continues to walk, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the ground. He only looks up when he feels a presence.

“Did she say no?” Nadia asks him.

“Didn’t even stand a chance.” He smiles sadly at her. It makes sense that you would have suitors lining up to propose to you. Official or not, Ramzi seems certain that it’s a sure thing between you and Malik. Colt feels the pressure of his armband on his bicep. Who was he trying to fool, anyway? It was stupid of him to even bother in the first place. He kicks a rock, watches it skip down the slope of the land.

“I don’t believe that.” She says. “I think she likes you a lot.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nadia.”

“I’m not just making things up! I know if you proposed, she would marry you. She would pick you over any other man in the world!” She pauses. “It’s because you didn’t bring any food.”

“She’s upset with me because I didn’t give her any food?” Colt raises an eyebrow. You didn’t seem hangry. Nadia’s childlike conclusion is refreshing, though. If only things were that simple. He would bring you dinner, and everything would be settled.

“You gave her socks, and I saw her wear your jacket.” Nadia points to the one slung over his shoulder. “Now, you bring her a big meal to prove that you can provide for her and keep her well-fed, and then she invites you to bed.”

“She doesn’t have to invite me to her bed.” Colt quickly looks at everything but Nadia’s earnest expression.

“You would do all that for her for nothing?” She shakes her head, like she thinks he’s an idiot. Maybe he is. “That’s how you propose. You provide, and then you show her your devotion in her bed, and then she decides if she wants to spend her whole life with you.” Nadia eyes him up and down. “I think she would like your devotion very much.”

Colt has no answer to that.

“Were you burning something?” He asks instead, nodding to the large bonfire that has fizzled out. All the remains are burnt pieces of wood and ashes.

“Oh, no!” Nadia gasps, rushing to it. She grabs a stick and pokes at the pile, but nothing happens. “This isn’t supposed to happen!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Usually, there’s a roaring fire here, so people can gather here and try to warm up during the night. It was harder to get wood these past few days, and they keep sending the men out to work earlier and earlier. I guess the fire was built too fast, and now it’s gone.” She tosses the stick to the ground. “By the time the men get back, it’ll be too dark out to go to the woods and collect enough kindling to get a large enough fire starting.”

Colt glances down at his watch, then looks up at the sun still hanging high in the sky.

He’s got time.

By the time he hauls all the dead wood he can find, he’s well acquainted with both the campground and the surrounding woods. Nadia eventually gets a cart on wheels from one of the older ladies, and she brings it to him so he doesn’t have to constantly walk back and forth for small hauls.

Once he collects all the kindling necessary, he gets to work on starting the fire. He’s sweating, and he thinks Magath would be proud — or as proud as Magath can get, anyway. Today was supposed to be a free day, and here he is, tossing off his military jacket in an attempt to cool down.

Wearing only his undershirt, Colt takes the ax Nadia offers him, and he begins to chop away at the logs. He wants a decent stash for them, so that way on the days they can’t collect wood, they’ll still have this stockpile. When he gets the fire going, a crowd has already started to form around them. They cheer when they watch the flames grow higher and higher, and for once, Colt almost forgets about you and Malik.

And then he catches you in the crowd, and the pleasure he feels from not being hated or feared by the people in this camp evaporates.

Women are approaching him. He catches snippets of their gratitude, their invitations to bring him to their tent, the not-so subtle remarks on their unmarried daughters. He smiles at them, but he doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing in front of you. He didn’t even consciously think about it; his feet just guided him there.

“If I marry him, I won’t work at the brothel anymore.” You tell him.

As if sensing this is a private moment, the crowd disperses. It’s all an act, though. They’re clearly trying to eavesdrop. Neither of you seem to care.

“That makes sense.”

“If I don’t work at the brothel anymore, I won’t ever see you again.”

“So this is goodbye, then?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“But we’re never going to see each other again.” He points out.

“If I marry him.” You point that right back at him.

“Are you going to marry him?”

This seems to be the direction you planned the conversation on heading towards. He’s never seen you so shy, so demure. This nervous silence, the reluctance, it doesn’t suit you. He wants you to confront him head-on, in your usual bold manner.

“Do you see a future with me? One where I’m not the girl who you have to pay to meet in the shady part of town?” His answer determines your answer to Malik.

“I already don’t see you in that way. You’ve never been just the girl I pay to see.” A glint of silver catches his eye. It brings him back to the sparring match, the one with the Marleyan boy who brought the knife to his face. It’s not a blade, but something on your wrist.

The watch. You’re wearing the watch he gave you.

“But a future.” You press. “Do you see a realistic future for us?”

Colt’s never given much thought to the immediate future. Most of the time, it feels like his life has been planned for him since the beginning. The cards he’s been dealt with aren’t the greatest hand, but he feels like he makes it work. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t wince, doesn’t go insane. He doesn’t even ask the universe for much. Even when he does make a wish, it’s always for the benefit of others.

If he closes his eyes and pictures a future with you, what does he see? Church bells, and you dressed in white? Kids? No more barriers between the two of you, no more fronts. In an ideal future, you are happy, and you want him by your side.

Things can’t ever be that simple, but damn it, he at least has to try.

“Yes.” He takes a step forward. The setting sun causes a warm glow to be cast on your face; it envelopes your whole body, actually. You are radiant. He thinks he should tell you that and then wonders if that sounds corny. Probably. He figures he’s said plenty of dumb, cheesy stuff already, and you’re not backing away from him.

“Radiant?” You repeat, giggling softly.

You wonder what you look like from his point of view. Colt Grice stares at you in a way no one’s done before, and his refusal to look at you when you’re half-naked comes to mind. He looks at you, and he undresses you, but it’s not clothes he’s trying to take off. He’s peeling layers of your masks, making you shed your faux skins all over the place, in some insignificant corner. Colt Grice stares at you, and he sees you, and it makes you feel special. You’ve spent a majority of your life feeling like gum stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe, only worth their time when they’re scraping you off, swearing at what an inconvenience you are.

You notice the watch on his wrist, and you’re pleased to realize that it looks similar to your own, just wider. More masculine. Like “his and her” goods. The feeling of being special only grows.

“Colt.” You’re going to do something very stupid now. You’ve been feeling it for weeks now, that feeling of him pulling you past the point of no return. If you do this, you know that you’re never going to be able to give him up. Everything will change afterwards. Somehow, the thought of that doesn’t seem as scary or daunting as before. “Can I kiss you, please?”

This is a real shining moment, Colt thinks. He’ll remember this forever, and when he inherits the Beast, he hopes that this memory gets passed down for all generations. Even if nothing else gets remembered, this certainly will leave its mark on history.

Your lips are soft, and he tastes something sweet, and he wants to savor it, savor you. He keeps himself in check, forcing himself to not deepen the kiss, and then you’re pulling back from him.

So this is what kissing is all about, you think to yourself, touching your lips.

Confession time: sometimes you feel like you don’t know how to be human. You think you spent so long always on edge, always afraid, that you’re starting to forget the fun stuff about being alive. Your job is to do what people are supposed to consider the most ultimate act of intimacy, and you spend all your time disgusted by it. Dissociating from it. Perfecting the art of detachment.

You give him nothing more than a simple, chaste kiss on the lips. Not even a second (you would know; you feel for the tick of the watch against your wrist). But it’s enough to charge you, leaves you feeling wired, electrified.

Alive.

You’re aware of your neighbors witnessing this scene. You almost forgot about them, too focused on the man standing in front of you. You watched him, the flex of his muscles and the way he selflessly spent his time to help out the camp. He didn’t have to do that; he doesn’t owe them anything. You think you broke him for a second, turning your back and leaving him like he was nothing. He had every right to just walk out of here and be done with this camp for good.

But he didn’t. And if he can do that, you can put a stop to Malik’s proposal ritual. You won’t let him in your bed. You won’t let him in your heart. You won’t let anyone in.

The lingering effects of the kiss still rests on your lips. You don’t realize how hungry you are until you get a tiny taste to whet your appetite. You like kissing, you decide. You wonder why the hell you haven’t done it before.

Colt’s grin is so wide, it makes it hard for you to not try to mimic that happiness. Smiling comes easy when you’re with Colt. It’s like his shiny disposition is infectious, contagious.

No. You know why you’ve been saving your kiss, your name, the space inside your life, all of it—

—all of it was reserved for this golden soldier.

Colt is still riding the high of the kiss — of the kisses — you gave him.

Maybe this is finally the universe turning his luck around. Good karma. Every ounce of good he’s done in this lifetime, and he’s finally cashing out. You kissed him. You kissed him. You kissed him.

He can’t even wipe the dopey grin off his face as he checks back into base. He feels like Michael, like he wants to swing his arms and whistle silly tunes. He thinks he could get punched in the face right now, and not even feel a thing. The next time he sees you, Colt decides, he’s going to bring you a feast, and then he’s going to kiss you like a man going off to war.

His spirits are still high as he enters his bedroom, ready to lay down on his bed and relive those kisses over and over again until exhaustion takes control of his body, but he pauses when he sees the thick cardstock folded on his bed.

It’s closed, sealed with wax that has the Marleyan military coat of arms imprinted on it. He rips into the paper, eyes scanning over the letter quickly. He sees what he’s searching for, letting the paper drop to the ground.

Fuck. So much for good karma.

This letter serves as your official deployment orders from the Marleyan Military. You are hereby directed to join the offensive operation aimed at capturing Fort Helena. Upon receipt of this letter, you are to report to the designated assembly point where you will receive further instructions and join your assigned unit. Your role in this operation will be briefed in detail upon your arrival.

It is imperative that you prepare for immediate deployment. Ensure your personal affairs are in order, and report with full combat readiness.

#please don't read these rbs they're so unserious i was literally going through it #but no seriously i should comb through and find things i missed again this was insane #i love this series but like i just know it's gonna leave me empty #user ktsumu when she realizes she can't read daylight for the first time again and is reminded no one remembers who colt is #EVERYONE READ THIS PLEASE #recs #i can't believe i waited so long to read this #i have SO much to say on the whole naked thing and the dr*wning (kit shut the FUCK UP about the water) but mmm #putting tape over my mouth

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gimme-mor · 3 years ago

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ACOTAR THINK PIECE: ELAIN ARCHERON, UNTOUCHABLE

*DISCLAIMER*

This will be a long post.

Please take the time to read this post in its entirety and truly reflect on the message I am trying to send before commenting. My goal is to use my background in Gender and Women’s Studies to deconstruct the comments I have seen on Tumblr and Twitter and bring awareness to the ACOTAR fandom.

The reason I am tagging “Elriel” in this post is to call attention to the arguments in the Elriel fandom that: weaponize Elain’s femalehood to shame real life people for their opinions about Elain’s character and her relationship with Lucien; victimize Elain’s character in fandom discussions; and coddle Elain’s character, which limits fandom discussions about her narrative development and prevents the ACOTAR fandom from holding Elain accountable for her actions and inactions in the same way that the fandom holds other characters accountable for their actions and inactions. It is for these reasons that I WILL NOT remove the “Elriel” tag from this post because all of the above points contribute to the toxic discourse surrounding Elain’s character.

I urge those who use these arguments to understand their implications, why they are problematic, regardless of intent, and reexamine their contributions to the ACOTAR fandom. I WILL NOT tolerate anyone who tries to twist my words and say I am attacking people and their personal shipping preferences. In fact, I AM CRITIQUING THE ARGUMENTS THEMSELVES NOT THE PEOPLE USING THE ARGUMENTS.

Also, I highly encourage the Elriel fandom to read this post because it addresses how the concept of choice as an argument enables arguments to exploit social justice and feminist languge in order to vilify Elucien shippers, among other problematic things.

Elain Archeron is one of the most polarizing characters in the ACOTAR fandom. Though opinions about Elain vary, arguments in the Elriel fandom cite society’s perception of traditional female characters in comparison to non-traditional female characters as the reason behind the hate, and this belief is used to provide an explanation as to why other characters in the series are favored over her. In the series, Elain is portrayed in a wholly positive light and this image carries over into the Elriel fandom, painting her character as a good and kind female who has been unfairly wronged and a victim of circumstances that were out of her control. When arguments in the Elriel fandom oppose other viewpoints in the fandom, they fall into one of three categories:

Category 1: Weaponize Elain’s femalehood to shame real life people for their opinions

Maybe people who hate Elain are just jealous of her in a weird way similar to when someone hates the pretty, nice, and charming girl in school just because she is too perfect

Disliking Elain is misogynistic

What happened to feminism? What happened to women supporting women? What happened to she can say no? All of that disappears the second you force Elain to be with Lucien

Elain antis are misogynistic

All Eluciens are Elain antis

Antis claiming they’re feminists when in reality they hate on Elain and Feyre but love Nesta

Elain antis are such sore losers. Y’all were that bunch of people who could not get over being rejected from hanging out with the cool kids so y’all are projecting your hatred towards pretty people now to get validation

I don’t get how Elain’s love for gardening equals boring for some people. I’m sorry your misogyny finds traditionally feminine activities boring

Why are you attacking a female? What did Elain do? Where are your feminist voices?

The fandom is misogynistic towards Elain

If people loved Elain they would ship Elriel

If you hate Elain it says a lot about your feelings toward women

If you hate Elain because she has no “development” then you must hate Azriel because otherwise you’re misogynistic

Eluciens are turned off by the idea of a woman that has the autonomy to reject a man for the simple reason that it is her choice

Eluciens are all about feminism and “it’s HER choice” until it comes down to females not wanting a male

Eluciens don’t respect Elain’s feelings when they ship her with someone that was part of her trauma and makes her feel uncomfortable

The way some Elucien shippers completely disregard how uncomfortable Elain is around Lucien is so hilariously not funny. Prioritizing being mates over Elain’s feelings is just regressive

It’s hard as a fan of Elain to see someone ship her with a person who makes her physically uncomfortable to be around. Wouldn’t you want both characters to be happy to be around each other

Imagine if SJM saw all the awful things her “stans” had to say about Elain

It’s true that we know comparatively little about her, but is she really boring or do you just not value stereotypically feminine traits?

So y’all are just gonna tell me you prefer Elucien over Elriel? Even though Lucien treats Elain as if she’s something that belongs to him? The only reason he wants to be with her is because she’s his mate, he doesn’t respect her, doesn’t treat her as his equal, even though that’s what mates should be? He doesn’t bother to look past what’s on the outside to see her for who she is. And Elain is obviously repulsed by the idea that she should belong to anyone or have no choice in who she can be with. Azriel is her friend and the only person who sees her quiet strength. He has so much faith in her, in her abilities; he’s the one who kept her company when no one else did, he’s the only one who bothered to see her for more than her brokenness. You’re going to tell me you still prefer Elucien over Elriel?

The more I see Gwynriels that ship Elucien out of their hate for Elain, the less I can understand Elain stans that ship Elucien. Pls Elain has made it very clear that she doesn’t want Lucien, why would you ship her with him? Do you hate her too? Smh

The real question would be, if you care and understand Elain why would you ship her with Lucien (where she canonically shrinks when he is near)?

People crying over Helion and Lucien’s mom not getting to be with each other and her being forced into a relationship she didn’t want, but also ship Elucien? Just say you hate Elain

When Elain’s book is out, Gwyn stans will look like clowns and I will laugh because they set her up by shipping her with Azriel just because they hate Elain. Watch them play the victims now because Elriels are clapping back the hate they’ve sent towards Elain

As romantic as wanting girl who is visibly uncomfortable around a guy who caused her trauma to end up with the said guy. Guess their standards for romance are in hell

Category 2: Victimize Elain’s character

Gwynriels only want Gwyn with Azriel because they despise Elain

Gwyn stans and Gwynriels are Elain antis

No one in the books dislike Elain, so why are there so many people who do?

Elain hasn’t done anything wrong or questionable to warrant the hate she gets

Not having Elain’s POV makes it easy for people to be swayed a certain way about her character if you already don’t relate to her in some way

It’s been years since this series came out and we haven’t gotten a lick of an Elain POV, but people still hate her for what? We don’t know her thoughts, dreams, or aspirations

We haven’t even had Elain’s perspective yet and people are passing these judgments off on her

Elain antis who say she’s boring are just cruel when she has obvious symptoms of PTSD like Feyre and Nesta

Gwyn is one of the most overhyped characters and that’s only because most people hate Elain and they couldn’t wait to find a random girl to ship Azriel with

Nesta was abusive to her sisters but Elain (who has only ever been kind) is painted as the villain

From the text we know that Elain is the epitome of feminine stereotypes (gentle, gardening, baking, non confrontational for the most part). Yet people still call her boring or deny that she has any interesting character traits?

You can’t love Nesta and hate Elain

People hate Elain because of internalized misogyny and lack of taste. All the girl does is tend to her garden and mind her business and they treat her worse than Tamlin

Does Gwyn deserve all this support? Of course yes! She is amazing! But where’s that support when Elain was in the same situation as she? Where’s that support for her right now? Why do they idolize Gwyn for her interactions with Azriel and hate Elain for having any interaction with him?

It’s not even a ship war anymore, they just hate Elain

People hate Elain for no reason

Some of y’all don’t like feminine traits and it shows

We know less about Eris and Helion but people don’t call them boring. Why would rejecting femininity make Elain more interesting?

Elain has had a lot forced upon her

The main reason I believe most people love Gwyn so much is to get Azriel away from Elain. It’s not a secret that Elain has been a widely hated character for years so suddenly we get a new female who has a minimal amount of interactions with Azriel and BOOM. New ship that once again doesn’t make sense (just like Azriel x Emerie after ACOFAS)

Elain hasn’t done something so terrible for her to get this hate. At this point some of you are just being misogynistic and you don’t want to accept it. Don’t call yourselves feminists and then say bs like this, it’s embarrassing. She’s pretty and everyone agreed to hate on her

Just a personal feeling, but I feel like a lot of the Elain hate stems from internalized misogyny. That to be a strong female lead, you need to pick up a sword and fight. That to be strong, you need to adapt traditionally masculine traits

Elain is feminine. She is beautiful. She loves to bake and garden. She is docile, quiet, observant, and a people-pleaser. All traditionally feminine traits. Yet for some reason, she’s like the worst in these people’s eyes?

I think also maybe a lot of people can’t relate to her femininity? That her being so beautiful and quiet doesn’t allow for the people who dislike her not to self-insert? Most of the hate stems from people not wanting Elain to be with Azriel. It’s mean, but maybe the people who hate Elain literally just can’t self-insert if they have a story and that’s why they’re vehemently against it?

Poor Elain. The Cauldron dealt her a bad deal. Upon emerging as Fae, she is immediately declared by Lucien as his mate, never mind that she was already engaged to a prick. Her love life is not good

It blows my mind how they really think that they can compare all the shit that Elain gets with some dumb jokes about Gwyn on Twitter (and yes, the “hate” towards her started mostly because Elriels are clapping back, it was bound to happen)

I would think of it as anti-feminist with Elain and Lucien because she has consistently stated that she does not want him so if she was forced to embrace the bond that would be taking away her right to have a choice but with Az she feels comfortable around so if they were mates then Elain would be happy and feel safe which again should be the priority for women to feel safe in their relationships with anything and to not be forced into any type of situation aka the mating bond in this

Category 3: Coddle Elain’s character

Elain has value the way she is, in all her domestic girly glory. Not every character has to be badass

We don’t speak of Elain’s flaws frequently because everyone else already speaks badly of her, mainly in an unfair way

There is definitely something deeper going on with Elain but by no means will she ever be evil or any less feminine. That goes against everything we already know about her

It’s ok to critique Elain because she needs growth but y’all keep forgetting the shit her and her sisters went through

The last “bad” thing Elain did in ACOTAR was not help Feyre when they were impoverished and I’m tired of people acting like she’s a terrible character when it was their father’s responsibility. It happened 4 books ago and Feyre has forgiven both Nesta and Elain

Elain’s character and the evil Elain theory are a great example of the trend where people only consider female characters interesting if they reject femininity

We don’t know enough to hate Elain

Many people want Elain to turn evil (which in my opinion seems to come from a place of internalized misogyny)

However we don’t tend to talk about her faults, at least not publicly, as that has been, and still is, done to death, and I--personally, at least--find it much more fun to theorise about potentially interesting aspects of the overall plot, than dwell on negatives

And ultimately, I would be shocked if Elain has a more karmically-charged story than Nesta, considering that Elain’s “wrongs” are so much less severe and bad than Nesta’s, and Elain has already apologized for them (or paid the price in other ways, like through what Graysen did)

I guess I also think Elain has suffered and been punished enough. I hope her story is about finding hope in terrible situations, and learning to love her new life, and choosing her own path after everything that has been done to her. I don’t think she needs to be punished anymore or face any additional trauma

Also, why is she being judged on her decisions as a human at all? Fae are monsters to humans! They enslaved them for thousands of years, and the Wall was erected to keep them out

Like I’m sorry, but think Elain would want to leave her ONLY FAMILY AND FRIENDS for the Spring Court where she has no one because--oh look, lots of flowers!--is the craziest thing I have ever heard

Her sisters are in the Night Court. Her nephew is in the Night Court. Her closest friends (Nuala and Cerridwen) are in the Night Court. Her love interest is in the Night Court. Her extended family is in the Night Court. Her home is in the Night Court

SJM isn’t going to keep two sisters together and split up the third. Especially not keep Feyre and Nesta together and separate Elain. They were either all going to end up in separate places, or together. Not 2 here and 1 there

Compared to the other female characters in the series, Elain is the only character whose femalehood is at the center of conversations; this is because arguments in the Elriel fandom fixate on it when discussing her character. While Elain, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor are all representations of white womanhood and white beauty, Elain epitomizes the most fragile version of white womanhood. It’s easy to blame society’s perception of traditional female characters in comparison to non-traditional female characters when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elain’s character because it: falls in line with the fixation on Elain’s femalehood to silence opposing viewpoints; is a simplistic explanation that fails to tackle the underlying issues with Elain as a character, the same issues that are downplayed in-universe; absolves Elain of her wrongdoings; prevents the ACOTAR fandom from holding Elain accountable for her actions and inactions within the series; and diminishes the impact Elain’s actions and inactions have on those around her. It’s not that Elain is hated in the fandom because she’s a traditional female character; it’s the fact that arguments in the Elriel fandom deflect a critical analysis of Elain’s character because she’s a traditional female character who embodies the ideal white woman in need of protection. White fans and white-aligned fans of color, especially white women, have a tendency to vehemently defend, gatekeep, and coddle white female characters in fandom; this makes it difficult for other fans to engage in critical discussions about these white female characters because they’re viewed as flawless and all around perfect characters despite evidence to the contrary. Since Elain is viewed positively by the other characters in the series, it has rendered her character untouchable to any perceived slight or criticism in fandom discussions because those negative opinions challenge what has been said about her character thus far. And as a result, her character has been placed on a pedestal and implicitly hailed as the epitome of white womanhood; and when she’s criticized, it’s seen as a direct attack against white womanhood. Arguments in the Elriel fandom: exploit feminist language and perpetuate white feminist tactics under the guise of defending Elain’s character; center Elain in conversations about female oppression in the ACOTAR world and uphold white feminist ideologies in their critique of ACOTAR’s patriarchal society; and use the fragile white woman narrative to victimize Elain in Lucien’s presence, playing into racial biases that are associated with white supremacy’s defense of white womanhood.

Feminism is a social movement that seeks to promote equality and equity to all genders, and feminists work toward eradicating gender disparities on a macro-level, in addition to challenging gender biases on a micro-level. As feminism became more mainstream, a flat and oversimplified version of feminism emerged: mainstream feminism. The mainstream feminist movement is meant to represent all women, but rarely does it center conversations around issues that concern most women. The problem with mainstream feminism is that it’s just a popularized version of white feminism. White feminism has relied extensively on an individualized understanding of women’s oppression, exclusively from the lens of privileged white women. White feminism only focuses on the oppression experienced by white, able-bodied, affluent, educated, cishet women; and it views gender as the key mode of privileged white women’s oppression, isolated from the privileges granted by their other social identities. White women can be and are oppressed under the patriarchy but only because they are women; their identity as women does not exempt them from the privileges granted by their whiteness. The term white feminist does not mean any feminist who is white, but refers to feminists who prioritize the concerns of privileged white women as though they are representative of all women. However, the term is not exclusive to white people. Because white feminism is so pervasive, people of other racial and ethnic backgrounds often buy into white feminism, believing that if they work hard enough, they may be able to reap its rewards.

Just like white feminism, mainstream feminism only recognizes the identity of being a woman, assumes that all women share common experiences of gender oppression, fails to address other social identities in relation to overlapping systems of oppression, and disregards privilege in relation to various social identities. Just like white feminism, mainstream feminism is palatable because it doesn’t seek to challenge the systems in place, instead its goal is to succeed within them. Essentially, mainstream feminism and white feminism are extensions of performative feminism. Performative feminism is a type of performative activism that’s used to describe feminist views that are surface level and solely for the benefit of one type of person. It’s a pretense which often has nothing to do with genuine activism. Arguments in the Elriel fandom normalize and promote performative feminism because the topic of feminism is only referenced when discussing Elain. This indicates that these arguments are engaging in disingenuous discourse to push a personal agenda within the ACOTAR fandom, and it becomes more apparent when they use white feminist tactics to shut down opposing viewpoints:

White feminists weaponize and exploit feminist language to silence the opinions of other women, especially when they’re called out for their problematic behaviors

White feminists use the phrase “Women supporting women” to defend other white feminists who exhibit problematic behaviors instead of holding them accountable

White feminists weaponize phrases like “Women supporting women” and “You just hate women” to attack other women who disagree with them on any given topic

White feminists use phrases like “All women face challenges” and “Stop pitting women against each other” to sidestep conversations about privilege

White feminists divert conversations away from privilege and towards the Trauma Olympics to equate their struggles to the oppression of marginalized people

White feminists skirt around the realities of other forms of oppression and discrimination, downplaying the experiences of marginalized people

White feminists diminish or ignore the ways in which gender oppression affects other marginalized people

White feminists paint those they harmed as aggressive, mean, or divisive when confronted with the ways they have harmed a marginalized group

White feminists deflect criticism by focusing on the anger or emotions being expressed rather than the issue that is being discussed, invalidating the concerns of marginalized people

White feminists speak over marginalized voices in an attempt to sound “woke”

White feminists get defensive and insist there’s no way they could be a part of the problem because of what they’ve done to help marginalized groups already

White feminists say they don’t see color in an attempt to obscure racial issues that need to be addressed

White feminists center and victimize themselves in conversations about racism, which derails necessary conversations from taking place

White feminists who are white weaponize the intersectionality of their race and gender to avoid accountability

Feminism is not meant to be approached from an individualistic perspective nor is it only about addressing the experiences of privileged white women, it involves addressing the intersections of race, class, gender, sexuality, (dis)ability, and other social identities as well; and it involves addressing how these social identities relate to privilege. Moreover, feminism is not about women upholding complete loyalty to other women because of a shared gender identity, and to claim that it does implies that women should be held to different emotional standards than men. If men are able to dislike and criticize other individual men, real or fictional, without their characters being compromised, why aren’t women granted that same privilege?

It’s clear that SJM set up the ACOTAR world to mirror a patriarchal society, and that the imbalance of power between males and females stems from sexism. Arguments in the Elriel fandom analyze the ACOTAR world through a feminist lens to show how ACOTAR’s patriarchal society, to which the mating bond is innately tied, contributes to female oppression and limits their agency. When choice and free will are emphasized as part of Elain’s arc, they imply that Elain, through the mating bond, experiences female oppression under ACOTAR’s patriarchal society because of her identity as a female with that identity being the focal point of her oppression in the world. Elain is one of the most privileged characters in the ACOTAR world: she’s High Fae; she’s the sister of the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, which gives her access to wealth and political influence because of that connection; she’s able-bodied; she was magically blessed by the Cauldron; and she lives in Velaris, a place that grants females autonomy and power because of the beliefs of Rhysand and Feyre. Arguments in the Elriel fandom trivialize female oppression in the ACOTAR world because they disregard the fact that Elain’s privileges prevent her from experiencing female oppression in the same way that other marginalized females in the world do. The mating bond being one such example because those around Elain are not forcing the bond on her, instead they’re allowing Elain to reach a decision about the bond for herself; a privilege that other marginalized females in the world probably wouldn’t have. Just because Elain has endured hardships in her life and is a female in a patriarchal society, they do not erase the privileges she holds within the ACOTAR world. The failure to include Elain’s privileges in discussions about Elain being a female in a patriarchal society feeds into white feminist ideologies because white feminism operates from a very narrow perspective; it doesn’t take other intersecting identities into account when it examines gender oppression, leaving no room for discussions about privilege (or lack thereof) in relation to those intersecting identities. When discussing oppression in hierarchical societies, it’s imperative that privilege is also included in the conversation because privilege and oppression are not mutually exclusive; they equally affect the ways in which people navigate those societies through their social identities.

Rather than attributing Elain’s uncomfortability to her new life as a Fae female or the mating bond itself and her trauma to the Cauldron, the King of Hybern, or Ianthe, they’re placed on Lucien to cast his character in a negative light. Moreover, fandom discussions portray Lucien as a possessive character to further emphasize Elain’s discomfort despite the inaccuracy of this characterization in canon. Arguments in the Elriel fandom play into racial biases when it comes to Lucien (a male character of color) because they mischaracterize his character in order to victimize Elain (a white female character), placing her character in the role of the white damsel in distress. In Western society, the concept of womanhood has been conceptualized from a Eurocentric perspective with femininity and feminine attributes favoring white women. It’s the idea that a certain type of femininity is only inherent to white women as they are seen as the embodiment of an ideal womanhood. White womanhood has been a symbol of innocence and purity, and white women have been viewed as fragile beings in need of protection. The reason white womanhood functions within white supremacy is because it’s the same idea that has motivated white men to kill and beat black and brown men. The so-called protection of white women has been used as a justification for the horrific violence committed by white men because black and brown men were stereotyped as aggressive and seen as a threat to the virtue of white women. The white damsel in distress trope considered white women as worthy of protection because of their perceived innocence and purity; women of color were not granted that same treatment because they did not fit into the ideal image of womanhood. Over the years, this trope became a means for white women to exercise limited power in a patriarchal society with white women weaponizing their status as the damsel much to the detriment of black and brown men. It’s through the white damsel in distress trope that white supremacy sustains its dominance in Western society. The misrepresentation of characters of color in fandom, the dismissal of their importance to the overall story, and using them as tools in arguments centered around white characters are the foundation of fandom racism; they’re examples of how racism moves silently in fandom spaces. Instead of examining their behavior and taking constructive criticism from fans of color, white fans will often double down on their bigotry and center their uncomfortability in the conversation when confronted with their complicity in fandom racism. White fans expect fans of color to swallow fandom racism in its many forms in order to not ruin the experience of fandom, dismissing the fact that racism is prevalent in nearly every aspect of society. This mentality ensures that no one is held accountable for the harm they caused and alienates fans of color in fandom spaces.

To reiterate what I mentioned in my first think piece: terms like “oppression”, “the right to choose”, “feminist”, “feminism”, “anti-feminist”, “anti-feminism”, “internalized misogyny”, “misogyny”, “misogynist”, “sexist”, “sexism”, “racist”, “racism”, “classist”, “classism”, “discrimination”, and “patriarchy” are all used in specific ways to draw attention to the plight of marginalized people and challenge those who deny the existence of systems of oppression. Yet these words and their meanings can be twisted to attack, exclude, and invalidate people with differing opinions on any given topic. When social justice and feminist terms are thrown around antagonistically and carelessly to push a personal agenda, it becomes clear that these terms are being used to engage in disingenuous discourse and pursue personal validation rather than being used out of any deep-seated conviction to dismantle systemic oppression. Being an ally, activist, or feminist is not an identity, it’s a practice. It requires: ongoing self-reflection; holding ourselves accountable; listening to marginalized people; educating ourselves; dismantling implicit biases; challenging those around us who are exhibiting problematic behaviors; and action behind our words.

It’s important to be aware of the language that is used within the fandom when defending or critiquing characters and ships. It’s also important to question how an argument is framed and why it’s framed the way that it is to critically examine the intent behind that argument: is it used as a tool to push a personal agenda that reinforces problematic behaviors, or is it used as an opportunity to share, learn, enlighten, and educate?

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Tagging: @spell-cleavers @bookofmirth @m0bulidae @ilya-boltagon

#elain archeron #elriel #acotar fandom #acotar: fandom critical

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stormblessed95 · 2 years ago

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This is not related to the current topic of discussion of your asks so I hope you don’t mind me asking a random question. Do you think that Tumblr is a Jikook dominant app? Just by the amount of Jikook blogs and the number of likes/engagement they get, I feel like it is. I can’t be sure tho because I don’t have all the stats. In my opinion, I would say that most of the other social media sites are mainly Taekook dominated, although I’m not too sure for Reddit. Of course this is not competition or anything like that but I just found it interesting that Jikook are one of the more “popular” discussed ships on here. I wonder why that is? What does Tumblr have that attracted many Jikookers vs other ships? Do you have any thoughts on this, since you are more experienced with Tumblr? Do you think that I am perhaps wrong in my observations that Tumblr seems more Jikook-based? Why did you choose Tumblr as your main outlet to support Jikook? Anyways, I love your blog and I enjoy reading through the posts of how people came to find you!

Oh boy. Uhhh short answer, i have absolutely ZERO IDEA. 😅🤣 sorry!

Attempts at a longer answer can be made...

(Yoonmin not related. Just extra cute)

Do you think tumblr is a jikook dominated app?

Again, sorry. No idea. I DO know there are also tons of blogs specifically for other ships. I've seen them. I've gone looking through some of them for specific events at times in regards to other duos or when one of yall sends me an ask about other shipper theories and then i gotta go deep dive into their spaces and figure out what the theories even are and why they exist. 😅 and on top of that, I'm following under 20 people here and some of those are book related blogs too. I also mostly stay out of the jikook tag unless I'm in the mood to deal with all that. So I'm possibly not the best person to answer this. I do also know that they were named in the top 10 tumblr ships of all time on tumblr in 2018. And they were only 1 of 2 real person ships on that list (I believe). What that looks like now? 🤷🏻‍♀️ nor can I speak for the stats of other sites.

Is there something about tumblr that attracted jikookers? Why did i pick tumblr as my main outlet to support jikook?

I can't speak for others, but for me, it was mostly the character count and the ability to filter. Like I said above, I don't venture outside my dash page very often. So especially with my anons off, my tumblr experience is very drama free. While I block freely on Twitter and only follow a certain amount of people, the drama is easier to stumble across. On top of that, I CLEARLY like to talk and drone on and on. Tumblr allows me to do so a bit easier without character counts in a tweet limits. All that to say, I do have a Twitter account that I use, that I tweet about OT7, various duos and jikook on. I am mostly active in DMs on Twitter though talking to people/my moots.

Otherwise, I don't have too many thoughts over it. I never spent too much time considering the why's or how's. I think it's just that the frequency of drama is usually lower on this site than others if i had to make a guess. And if you let the anons on. You can block their whole IP address if they cross lines, not just their account. Lol thank you for the ask! Its an interesting topic to consider!

#jikook #kookmin #jikookers on tumblr

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olderthannetfic · 3 years ago

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tl;dr: There are more reasons to have fic disclaimers than anti/purity culture

I’ve personally never minded fic disclaimers, in part because (in my experience) in fandoms where they’re expected, the people who make them are less likely to put something preachy in the story itself haha.

I think something else that’s getting lost in the discussion of disclaimers is that there are minors who are reading explicit fic. I don’t have a problem with that, I think it’s been well litigated as to why on this blog, but we can’t necessarily expect those readers to understand how something is inaccurate. This doesn’t make the writer responsible at all, I want to make clear. I’m just someone who’s very… maternal I guess is the word, and remember how impressionable I was when I was younger, despite being very curious and research-oriented. If I’m reading/publishing a story in an fandom that attracts a lot of younger viewers, I can see a disclaimer being useful both in a “this ain’t reality, kid” and “this is gonna be fucked up if you didn’t read the tags” kind of way. If the author wants to baby a presumed younger audience a bit, that’s their prerogative. Annoying to older fans (and you especially XD) but that’s how they want to present their work, whatever.

I think there are limits, like the ones that are like “remember to always use a condom and lube and ask a million times during if someone’s okay with something!” Are a… bit much. I would never post it, but at the same time, I can see how someone who’s maybe had bad experiences with trying something they’ve seen in porn, or even just someone who’s actually experienced wanting to rant about some misinfo they’ve seen wanting to make clear that, hey, this isn’t how you do it dipshits. Those I actually find pretty entertaining and informative, I like reading those.

Also, as someone who has intrusive thoughts, imploring that there is a disconnect between what you understand is okay and what you have thought/written is a VERY understandable impulse. Plus, as someone who’s a bit of a parrot, I can see someone who doesn’t understand the motivations behind the disclaimers making them just because that seems to be the etiquette.

I dunno, I just think there are a lot more reasons to put a disclaimer other than virtue signaling or whatever.

I mean, people are welcome to their opinions and, to a degree, to ask me to let them post those opinions, but you know I am not going to agree with this.

Minors reading porn did not get lost. At all.

If you think that, you haven't read my objections to warnings and you haven't paid attention, which is disrespectful as fuck considering you want to use my tumblr as a platform.

I object to the warnings because they blatantly signal that we are never allowed to grow up and never allowed to make a space for ourselves without it being sex ed hour where we're expected to cater to people outside the target audience. If young people sneak in, it's no different than them sneaking into an R-rated movie, and the consequences are on them. This is something that has been reiterated over and over.

Yes, writers are allowed to use whatever disclaimers they want. No one is disputing that.

A right to use disclaimers does not make all those disclaimers good. We used to do the 'not mine, don't sue' and 'it's illegal but' thing all the time, and those are actively dangerous to fandom. This case is more ambiguous, but seriously: don't come to me with that 'because I have free choice, my choices are all beautiful' crap, especially when you're also pulling 'why is no one talking about' about something everyone is talking about.

Because so many people parrot this shit and because a high incidence of warnings leads to more parroting and more people feeling like they're bad if they don't, I dislike the trend.

Signal that we're supposed to be in the kitchen making a sandwich perpetually if you want. My own maternal instincts involve a healthy dose of teaching about boundaries and what happens when you go into places like AO3 E/M works with a big 'no entry' sign on the front.

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thevikingwoman · 4 years ago

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Tagged!

Tagged by @roguelioness and @a-shakespearean-in-paris thanks friends!

1: Why did you choose your url?

Because I’m Danish, so I tend to pick some variation of ‘viking’ as username, and I’m a woman and vikingwoman was taken ;P. I AM wondering if I should re-pick some days, sadly viking imagery sometimes get co-opted by white supremacists and they can get the fuck out of my blog, my culture, and the world.

2: Any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

I have a couple. I created an ME sideblog that I given up on using, too complicated I try to tag any non-DA content I post here instead. I have a blog for explicit images, from when tumblr allowed them. It still have some items on it that has not yet been moderated. I have a blog I posted a few nature pictures on. And ofc I’m an admin at @dadrunkwriting, but it’s hardly my blog. Plently of opportunity for messing up when posting.

3: How long have you been on tumblr?

Since aug 2016

4: Do you have a queue tag?

I use #scheduled post

5: Why did you start your blog in the first place?

When I finished Trespasser I was in distress, I was shaken in a way I had no business being. (Thanks Solas). I was looking to find fics and used to previous fandoms on livejournal and so forth. I was looking where things were at, and it seemed to be here. Ao3 is nice, but I was looking for fic recs and events such as big bangs and awards (not that DA fandom does awards, so sad)

6: Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

My idon is me, drawn by @destinyapostasy. Hair is wrong color though ( I have 4 versions and none of them is the right hair color lol, it’s become a darkish blonde boring color)

7: Why did you choose your header?

My header is Solas, drawn by @destinyapostasy, it’s just a great drawing of him looking sad. That’s all this blog still is - sad Solas.

8: What’s your post with the most notes?

Apparently it is a post about some investigation of tumblr character limitation in posts ? I have a couple of posts that got a lot of notes, and I had to notification block them.

9: How many mutuals do you have?

I don’t know? and while I love my mutuals dearly, I don’t want to put too much stock in it. I understand people might not follow me for various reasons, but we can still be friends!

10: How many followers do you have?

Uh a bunch? It’s weird how the longer you have the blog sometimes you get these bursts of random follows? (not spam blogs either). anyway hi people, I am happy you’re here!! Please do know though that I don’t really keep track of my followers and if you don’t want to follow I’m not going to wonder about it. You do you!

11: How many people do you follow?

262 which is too many. I have a goal of 200. Some of these are very low activity blogs though.

12: Have you ever made a shitpost?

Probably

13: How often do you use tumblr each day?

I usually check quite often, but not always? It’s a habit.

14: Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

Somewhat? I counterargued some head canon that annoyed me, and the OP (and at one time very popular solavellan writer) argued back, missing my point entirely. It was shortlived though :P. I don’t think someone can be declared a winner hahaha.

Have I felt like starting a fight? yes

15: How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

I don’t reblog and if people post to many of those I unfollow. Nothing bugs me more than guilting into behavior, esp with a sprinkle of performative allyship.

16: Do you like tag games?

Yes please tag me!!! I might take a bit to reply but I do try to get around to it!

17: Do you like ask games?

Yes! both for me and my OCs. I try to send asks when I see people posting them too, though sometimes I miss it.

I also miss TMI tuesday when people would really TMI, but I guess the fandom group I hung out with is less active + we already covered the TMIs lmao. I

18.Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I have mutuals who I deeply love and respect, does that count?

tagging: @galadrieljones @destinyapostasy @ma-sulevin @wrenbee @luzial @ladylike-foxes @salexectria @allaganexarch @buttsonthebeach @scharoux @idrelle if you want!

#about me #tag game

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the-blue-fairie · 4 years ago

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I sometimes feel like being in fandoms makes people see things in black and white. Everything becomes an “either/or” situation. You are either for something or against something, pro a storytelling aspect or character or anti a storytelling aspect or character. The nature of fandom tags on tumblr kind of cultivates this attitude. In order to categorize your thoughts on your blog, you need simple phrases that help with easy categorization, so that’s why we get things like “pro-this movie” or “anti-this movie” or “pro-this character” or “anti-this character.” But the simplistic quality of such categorizations kills nuanced analysis - or makes it more difficult to enunciate one’s thoughts when they fall into a grey zone.

I’ve written a fair number of analyses of Frozen on this blog and they’ve been met with a lovely and positive reception. But because, as I’ve said in the past, I have mixed feelings about F2, I always worry about how other people will read my posts. Will they think I am being too negative about the film and then question me when I profess to like it? Will they feel I’m being too positive and call into question my critiques? Depending on their perspectives, how will other people try to categorize me?

It’s not merely anxiety on my part - although anxiety makes it worse. In the past, sometimes my words have been misconstrued by others or, in other cases, I’ve not explained myself clearly enough and so they’ve been taken for something outside my intent. This has exacerbated my anxiety at times because I feel I walk a fine line where I both agree and disagree with all sides in the fandom to a certain degree. But that nebulousness defies easy categorization, so I always worry people will look and my posts and think things like...

Oh, you feel F2 didn’t reflect enough on how Agnarr and Iduna’s actions hurt their daughters? Does that mean you’re anti Agnarr and Iduna? No. I love Agnarr and Iduna dearly. I think they are incredibly rich and compelling characters. I also think that the backstory F2 gives them only makes them more interesting characters, giving them layers that go beyond the layers they already had from their limited presence in the first film. I also think that Agnarr and Iduna are good people and that they loved their daughters dearly, that they were caught in a terrible position and did everything to protect their daughters. And I further think that, given the time to come to terms with their parents’ actions, it’s perfectly valid for Elsa and Anna to still love them. As I said before, they are good people with their own fears for the future, wanting to protect their children. But I also feel that, by ignoring Agnarr’s and Iduna’s role in the sisters’ separation as children (and actually, by avoiding discussion the childhood events altogether), F2 never allows Elsa and Anna to come to terms with their parents’ actions. It never acknowledges their parents’ part in the hurt the sisters experienced as children (and, of course, it never acknowledges the trolls’ part in it either, even though the trolls were acting as guides for the king and queen and all their choices impacted the lives of these two children negatively.) It never acknowledges that people can love you - and still hurt you. And it never gives the sisters’ closure for that even though the narrative of F2 is all about their parents and (Elsa, at least) finding some form of closure with Iduna. But, in spite of my issues with the narrative, I like Agnarr and Iduna as characters - ESPECIALLY Iduna, whose backstory in F2 makes her fascinating.

Oh, you feel Elsa’s arc in F2 could have been written better? Does that mean you’re anti-Elsa/”Elsa-critical?” No. When I say that Elsa’s arc could have been written better, I am criticizing the structural elements that make up her arc, not criticizing Elsa herself. In fact, it’s my love for the character of Elsa that inspires my meditation on her arc. I’ve loved and deeply related to Elsa since the first film. Even when people got to rolling their eyes at the oversaturation of Let it Go, I’ve always kept the song close to my heart because it means something to me. I actually don’t particularly care for the tag “Elsa critical” because I think people using that tag are sometimes too quick to condemn Elsa for things when they should be condemning pacing issues in F2 or writing issues that made the writers’ intent unclear or moments that feel slightly OOC for Elsa compared to the first film.

And keep in mind, when I say “moments that feel slightly OOC for Elsa,” I’m not saying that Elsa feels “completely OOC” the way some people do or trying to dismiss what the writers were trying to do for her character. There are actually elements in F2 with Elsa that I feel are great character elements and they should not be disregarded - but there is also a dubious focus on her connection to the abstract concept of magic instead of her connection to other people. This undercuts some of the strong character moments that do exist in the film.

And again, keep in mind, when I say, “a focus on the abstract concept of magic rather than her connection with other people,” I’m not saying that Elsa loses her humanity in F2. She doesn’t. There are still moments that show her humanity and her human connections with other people. What I’m saying is that those human elements take a backseat to her connection to Ahtohallan, which does a disservice to her arc and its emotional impact, in my opinion.

Oh, you feel that aspects of the ending of F2 feel unearned to a certain degree? That sounds like you dislike F2. Didn’t you say you liked F2? Which is it? Are you just trying to confuse people? No, I’m not trying to confuse people. It’s just that you can like certain aspects of a film and dislike others, feel parts of a film were well-done and other parts less so. My feelings on F2 are... complicated. I love Anna as queen of Arendelle, I think she makes an amazing queen. A part of me wants Elsa to stay in Arendelle because I like the idea of the sisters being physically together and I feel the films and shorts have built a better connection between Elsa and the people of Arendelle than Elsa and the Forest. BUT, at the same time, I deeply love the Northuldra and want to see both Elsa and Anna bond with their mother’s people more and I love the idea of Elsa living with the Northuldra and connecting with them. My issue is the film doesn’t emphasize building Elsa’s connection with the Northuldra when that is the most emotionally resonant human element that connects her to the Forest. I actually want to see more of the Northuldra in F2′s narrative to give the ending greater depth.

(Also, I think it’s a shame that the film kind of brushes aside Anna’s connection to the Northuldra and her making bonds with her mother’s people. I know the film wants to set up Anna’s connection to Arendelle to foreshadow her taking the queenship but... both is good, as I’ve said in other posts.)

And I guess that’s what separates me from other people who dislike the ending. Yes, I’ve said that I prefer the sisters being physically together, but I’m not against F2′s ending on principle the way some people are. F2′s ending could work perfectly with a few rewrites to the narrative. I like it in concept, but not execution. I love Anna’s arc and Elsa’s arc has beautiful elements, conceptually at least. I love the idea of her being able to broaden her horizons and meet new people. The trouble is, the film doesn’t emphasize her bonding with those new people and writes them out of the narrative for no good reason for the second half of the film. And because I feel that Elsa’s connections with other human beings are what help me relate to her, more than the abstract concept of her individuality and abstract connections to magic and the spirits, that makes the ending of the film ring a little hollow for me. Especially when the sense of emotional connection I feel to the sisters reconnecting in Frozen Fever is so much stronger to me on a personal level than F2. (That last sentence I mentioned is personal feeling, but I hope that otherwise, I have supported my perspective with references to the text that readers feel are valid.)

Again, I’m not trying to take anything away from people who love Elsa’s arc and the film in general. There are many things I love about it. myself I recognize the beauty they see in it and I value that beauty.

I apologize. Maybe this is just rambling born of my anxiety - or reiteration of points I’ve made before. But I hope, if you read this, you feel I discuss these things with clarity, respect, and fairness for different perspectives. Thank you.

#long post #frozen #frozen 2 #personal thoughts

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sketchguk · 5 years ago

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Hi, friends! I can honestly say that I’ve been on Tumblr for about 9 years, but only 7 of those months have been spent on this account. Being a part of this fandom means so much to me, and as cheesy as it may be, I’ve never felt so much love from a community like this. I think that I should spread a little love back to everyone through this festive follow forever post in the spirit of the holidays (there’s also a message for my beautiful followers at the very end, so bear with me). Although I may have not spoken to you all personally, you’ve made my experience here amazing!! Whether it’s seeing you on my dash or in my inbox, you’ve all made me smile one way or another!! I’ll admit right now that I’ve sent so many anonymous messages to you all because I’m really shy, haha. Not to mention, I follow so many amazing content creators, gif/gfx makers and fic writers alike, and I want to make you smile as much as you have made me!! Y’all are so lovely, and I’m not totally sure why anyone chooses to interact with me or to follow me nonetheless. Maybe you’ve read a fic of mine, or none at all, I appreciate you all the same 💕 I know some of you may be in and out of hiatus, but just know that I’m thinking of you!! And if this is the first time you’re coming across my blog, I guess this is a good time to introduce myself. Hi, I’m Teresa. It’s nice to meet you 😄

If you’re reading this, hopefully we can chat a little more. I would love to get to know such lovely people 😊 To my beautiful mutuals, I love you all sooo much 💓 I’m not the best at expressing my feelings, but I hope that this is a start! @190713 @95swifi ✩ @alwayschoosechocolate ✩ @aureumjeon ✩ @beebopboobop ✩ @boobearcupcake ✩ @btsaremyfaves ✩ @btssmutheaven ✩ @bwiq ✩ @engeljimin ✩ @ddaengwrld ✩ @emiyooa ✩ @geniuslab 💌 ✩ @gimmeyoon (@gimmeyoon-main) ✩ @girlwiththespecs ✩ @gukgalore ✩ @gukkheaven ✩ @guktwt ✩ @hobimygs ✩ @hoseoknysus ✩ @idiotscalledfriends ✩ @joonary ✩ @kitsutaes (@geniusguk) 💌 ✩ @littlemisskookie ✩ @llsanjoonie ✩ @lovehrs ✩ @magicshop-myg ✩ @map-of-yoongi ✩ @maptoyoongi ✩ @mercurygguk ✩ @minflix ✩ @minlexia ✩ @minyoongsueit ✩ @mygsii ✩ @outroguks ✩ @pjmskosmos ✩ @sdmnluv ✩ @softaellie ✩ @spookitokki (@spookitokkimain) ✩ @starrytete 💌 ✩ @syugasshi ✩ @taesseok 💌 ✩ @tokyoscript ✩ @ve1vetyoongi ✩ @vminary 💌 ✩ @vtbts ✩ @vxngguk ✩ @wthkook ✩ @yourdelights 💌 If your url is bolded, scroll down for some words of affirmation. ✨ If you have an emoji (💌) next to your url, scroll down for a special message. 😇🌟 And here’s a shoutout to some of my favorite fic writers, because you all allow me escape to my happy place !! Thank you so much for contributing to the writing community !! This online space is pretty hectic, especially as of late, but you all make it worth it. Even if you’re taking a break from writing, I am here cheering you on !! And to let you know that I’ll support you no matter what. I hope you never lose your spark for passion and creativity !! Sometimes life gets the best of us, and other times, things are not in our control, but I want to send my love and appreciation to you nevertheless. Your fics have inspired me to try my own hand at writing, and I’m forever grateful ✨ You’re spectacular, every single one of you, so never forget that! Kpop isn’t that serious, but I’ll probably think about your fics until the day I die. @bymoonchild ✩ @floralseokjin ✩ @foreverpark ✩ @geniuslab ✩ @gimmeyoon ✩ @gukgalore ✩ @gukkheaven ✩ @guktwt ✩ @jamaisjoons ✩ @gukyi ✩ @kookswife ✩ @kinktae ✩ @kpopfanfictrash ✩ @minflix ✩ @mygsii ✩ @personasintro ✩ @prolixitae ✩ @readyplayerhobi ✩ @spookitokki ✩ @ubemango ✩ @ve1vetyoongi (yee, you might see some repeats because my moots are super talented) 💖 A love letter from me to you: 💌 @geniuslab Megan !! This might sound soo sappy, but you’re the very first person I followed when I made this blog !! It’s because I’ve read all of your fics (perhaps more than once on my old account), and you inspired me to start writing as well. You have no idea how happy I was when you said you would get back into writing fics. I guess I’ll expose myself right now, but I’ve sent a few anons to you on the matter haha (yes, I am a 7 Chances enthusiast, one of many). You’re so talented, and I admire you so much 🥺 A gif maker and fic writer ?? Nothing you can’t do !! Among other things, you’re such a kind-hearted individual. I’ve read plenty of your text posts, and there’s just something so warm about the way you carry yourself. You deserve the world, and I wish for nothing but the best for you !! I hope you have an amazing new year and that you have space for peace, love, and healing. Please know that I support you through and through, and that you are well-loved ❣️

💌 @kitsutaes (@geniusguk) Yas !! I know we just started chatting, but I love getting to know you !! It’s hard for me to reach out to people because I’m shy, but I’m really grateful that you hit me up 😊 It’s been so nice getting to know you, and I hope we can get closer 💕 I’m already learning so much about you because our chats just flow from one topic to another !! You said you wanna visit new york one day, so I’ll hold you to that 😉 I’ll be your tour guide, and the only exchange I’ll ever need is your friendship !! Some dried mangoes would be nice too 😚 haha jk … unless 😳 I hope you have an amazing year filled with lots and lots of love. May you receive everything you’re wishing for !!

💌 @starrytete Mirelle !! I’m still getting used to your new url LOL. But how could I ever forget you?? You are quite literally the human embodiment of an angel. You’re always spreading positivity, and I adore you with all my heart. I wish that I could be as radiant as you !! All the emojis that I’m using in this post?? An homage to you 🌼☀️ I don’t think I can ever look at emojis the same way thanks to you haha. Sending you lots of love!! I hope we can speak more in the future!! May the new year bring you happiness and good fortune!! Please take care of yourself, ok?! Message me whenever because my inbox is always open 🥰

💌 @taesseok Mia !! I just love seeing you on my dash. I’ll give you a quick run down: Teresa: :[ Mia: *posts* Teresa: :] It’s like the universe knows. You’re a light in this world, and I hope you never lose your spark !! May you smile as often as I do (all thanks to you) 💗 I wish for nothing but your happiness since you deserve it and more. In fact, it’s the world that doesn’t deserve you and your sparkle !! I hope this year was rewarding for you, but I already know that 2020 will be better and better. I’ll be sending you lots of positive energy for the new year hehe 💞 Hopefully we can talk more soon !! I’d love to be friends !!

💌 @vminary Kiara !! I’m so happy that you reached out to me all those months ago because you’ve become one of my closest online friends !! I can’t tell you how much you mean to me because the limit does not exist. It’s so easy to talk to you, and sometimes our conversations are big sis/lil sis -esque (I’ve always wanted a sister lol 🐣). I feel as if we’ve taught one another so much, especially because of our cultural differences and the tiny age gap that we share. I find myself missing you because of the time zones LOL. In the middle of the day, I’m wondering whether or not you’re sleeping well :’) Why do you have to live across the world?? 😔 I would totally send you a package if I wasn’t broke haha. I’m sending you all my love here though, and I hope that’s enough !! 💛

💌 @yourdelights Destinee !! You are SUCH a sweetheart. The messages that you send me are so kind, and I don’t know what I did to deserve you. Do let me know how you stumbled across my blog because I feel like you’re way too cool for me LOL. Your posts are always so hilarious, and the tags have me dying. Your sense of humor >> !! My love for you is immeasurable, and I hope you know that, ahh. I think it was truly solidified when I found out you’re a fan of day6 and the rose :’) I’m not really a multi-stan, but from that moment on, I was sold. That was the only time my instincts did not let me down 🌹💝 I swear I’m getting introduced to new fandoms because of you haha. And when you went on a lil hiatus, I really missed seeing you on my dash !! I hope that you’ll be with us for a long time though !! I really can’t wait for what’s in store for next year, because no pressure or anything, but I’m sincerely excited for your WIPs hehe. I’m rooting for ya, so make sure you make the new year your b*tch !! Lastly, thank you so much to my followers !! I see y’all in my activity, and I wanna let you know that I love you from the bottom of my heart !! At this point, I’m more of an update blog than a fanfic blog LOL :’) And if you follow me because you’ve stumbled through my fics, I just want to say 🤯 what?! It blows my mind that anyone reads my work, let alone enjoys it. I never would have though that I’d find solace in reading and writing considering I’m a full on STEM nerd. In conjunction with that, I literally started writing fiction 7 months ago to this day. I didn’t even realize that it would lead me to such amazing connections. With so many lovely people, popping in and out of my dashboard, inbox/DMs, and activity page, my heart b u r s t s with love!! Your interactions mean the world to me, even the most minute things like reblogs make my heart flutter. I really do check the reblogs to see if anyone has left a tag. Single words and keyboard smashes mean the world to me too !! Before I was a fic writer, I was just a silent reader. I always admired writers for the worlds they craft, the characters they develop, and the plots they devise, all for it to come together in one cohesive work of literature. Now that I have a vague understanding of what that’s like, I know that it’s nothing short of strenuous. Words are so powerful, and although I’m a really sensitive sap, I’ve read so many things that hit me to the core, and now I’m sure to tell the authors how much I enjoy their fics. If they went through hours (perhaps days/weeks/months) of drafting, writing, editing, and formatting, a quick comment from the reader really doesn’t hurt !! It’s the most rewarding thing a writer could ever ask for. As an amateur author myself, being on the receiving end is the thing that keeps me going !! I promise you, I don’t take any of it for granted. Your words seriously resonate with me, and it’s a huge motivator for me !! I hope that in the new year, I can work on new pieces for you all (as much as I don’t want to make up excuses, juggling life is not easy as a student!!) I always say that I write for myself, and as true as that is, I want to share my stories with you lovely people !! I pour my heart and soul into my work, and the build up of excitement is nothing if it means I can’t share it with someone else. So, old supporters, new supporters, look out for new content in the future. I hope you’re as excited as I am for the new year!! Please take care, y’all, and remember that I love you. My inbox is always open 💌 So let’s be friends 😇

#follow forever #mutual appreciation #this banner is so fugly pls don't stare at it for long LMAO #i spent longer than i should have making this @ 3am #went through way too many drafts #but it's worth it if i get to express my love !!#sincerely sorry if i forgot anyone :(( i'm new to this #i wish i could send you all a love letter !!#i would include love to gif/gfx makers but they're gonna see my banner and clown me LOL #happy new year loves <3 #i was afraid to post this bc i didn't wanna be annoying sksks i'm sorry #mutuals

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tslasvegas · 4 years ago

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Episode 10: “I ain't gettin fooled a third time.” - Jeff

Darn it. That vote hurt. I mean it's a game, and there's only one winner, but Steph and I had a great time the last time we played, and we played well here too. But our Final 2 tag hurt us. I mean, yes, we had that agreement, but it hurt us. I had to vote her, as there was no other way forward. Even if I used my Steal a Vote, it would not have been enough. Good thing Kailyn spoke up after the vote, so they know it was her who voted with Steph and not me. Hopefully that lessens me as a target. How does Ben have so many advantages. He will be out to win immunity next for sure.

I am actually really sad that we voted Stephanie out. I think there were better options but I guess it had to happen. It’s interesting that is spread so rapidly to everyone else in the game. I didn’t speak to really anyone and yet everyone knew what was happening. There’s definitely some connections going on that I’m unaware of. But also! One step closer to making it to single digits! I just have to survive two more tribals and I’m officially a flop no more! With the Super Idol, technically I can be “voted out” once before leaving the game, if Liv still decides to play it on me. So I’m feeling pretty good about my chances moving forward. The meninist group is a solid 5 I think. That’s almost half the tribe remaining. At this point, I really don’t think there’s a path for me to actually win the game. Unless I take control and start some big moves right away. But we will see.

Okay so it's been a while, and there's a lot to unpack. Merging: In regards to the merge itself, I have very mixed feelings about how the people in the merge are, and how things generally shook out in regards to the tribe divisions. Getting sent in with an instant 7-3-3 should, in normal circumstances, be pretty damning in how an early merge goes. People have a tendency to play safe, lay low, and just ride out the game a little bit before really going for anything. As far as the people we merged with that I had not met yet: Jaiden - Really cool guy, I spend all day talking to him, shooting the shit, just having a good time. Easily top 3 people this season for me. I want to go far with him. Xavier - Kinda neutral on him. I speak to him sometimes, but the conversations do not really have much in the way of depth to him. John - Meh. Doesn't speak a ton, just kind of minding his own business. Kailyn - Doesn't speak to me much at all. We've exchanged a couple of messages, but nothing too substantial. Whatever I guess. Ben - Literally refuses to speak to me. Not sure what his deal is or why he acts the way he does, but whatever I guess. So as a basic assessment, pre F13 tribal, the people I feel best about are Jake, Jaiden, Keegan, and Joey. These are the ones that I should be able to trust, that should be able to get me farther into the game. I feel with this that I'm in a better spot than I was in my previous 2 seasons, because I seem to have alleviated the issue of only having real connections to people on "my side". In Svalbard I was very isolated with Nathan/Rachael/John, and got burnt because the rest didn't want to play with me anymore. In Finland, it felt like more of a dice roll really, but I never got going with Tom/Drew/Bodhi/Zoe, so I was the first to get burnt because my connections just weren't good enough. But now, I should have the means to protect myself on both sides, and make it farther based on that. First tribal comes around, Palazzo has numbers, things should be simple. Ben doesn't talk to people, no one has a problem if he were to get sent home. Easy enough. Andrew makes people a bit wary, but its first tribal, he's not causing any particular harm, and we can deal with that issue later. But then Andrew slips up, he tells Jake that Keegan is the one pushing his name. I'm not sure why he did this, but he did. I confirm with Jake that it was actually Andrew that threw his name out first, but Keegan and I shifted it on to Ben. Whatever, mess is made, but no one says anything, vote should still be Ben. Get to tribal.... Andrew, 9-4. Not one, not two, but three people flip on us at the first tribal, sending Andrew home, and blindsiding myself, Pat, and Stephanie. With this, we're clearly on the outs, and Keegan/Liv/Joey blatantly lied to us. We confront them about it. Get some stories of, "weren't sure how people were feeling, didn't want anything to go wrong with the vote. Andrew was causing problems". Like yeah, okay, I know that that happened, but I had already expressed to both Keegan and Joey that I had strong reservations about how Andrew was approaching the game, and didn't want to have him be in long. I didn't think he's go right away, but clearly I was alright with the idea, yet they let me out. Fool me once, shame on you. Next time, okay votes gonna be simple. No one likes Ben, he doesn't talk to anyone, he just ignores me, he's gonna go home. Fine, everyone's happy. Well of course, we get to tribal, and he plays SWOP. I knew something was up, the way he was acting just wasn't right. Andrew said he was a good player, and I knew something was up when he was just giving up and having needless outbursts. Not the type of play that you'd expect from a "good player". So okay, we go back to OG Palazzo chat. Everyone says "lets vote John". Okay fine. Pat and I get to talking, because we're both close with Jaiden and Jake, and entertain the idea of voting Steph. Figure that we can get ahead of the curve because Palazzo is a mess, set ourselves up for the future. Pat can't change his vote cause he already casted, oops. I vote and play an extra vote because I thought a tie could be risked because I can't count. Vote goes 10-2 on Steph. Yet again, Joey, Keegan, and Liv opted to not say a word about anything to Pat and I. They don't care about us. They expect us to just do what they say, go along with whatever story they tell us before bed, but I ain't havin it anymore. Fool me twice, shame on me. I ain't gettin fooled a third time. These fuckers ain't gonna walk all over us and act like we ain't actual players. If they don't want to work with us, tell us anything, then I don't need them. I'll go with Jaiden and Jake, who are much more fun to talk to anyway, and curbstomp all of them. People already took Rachael from me, I ain't lettin them get any more W's on me.

Stephanie is gone! I can't believe I made it through that cracked ass tribal council, but I used the limited information Ben was providing to me to my advantage. The moment Ben told me what was going on, I swooped to Keegan and John and told them to prepare for the worst - tbh I thought he was going to have an idol or something and we would need to throw votes elsewhere. I think Keegan was the one who said he thought Ben's got a safety without power from his statements and it made so much sense to me. When it came time to scramble, obviously I didn't wanna be the first person to throw a name out there, but once the opportunity presented itself I tossed Stephanie's name out and it basically caught on like wildfire. I told Joey first, then the Meninist alliance chat. There definitely was some push back at first from Keegan, which I'll get to in a bit, as well as I think Livingston a little bit. Then it just caught on FIRE. Suddenly Stephanie's name was going through everything it felt like and every single person was down for Stephanie. For a minute there was a brief insurgence of John names, but I think me throwing Stephanie's name out first was the best thing to happen because once a name was out there, it basically ignited the power keg and there was no way to stop it. I think it could've gone the other way had John's name gone out first tbh... It is just such a relief to have some sort of affirmation that my targets are going home. I feel a lot stronger now than ever before, almost like allowing Andrew to go over Ben last round is giving me an edge like I've never had before. Tbh as much as I dislike Ben as a player, I do kinda hate this circlejerk kind of group hate for the guy because I don't think he's done anything so bad that it makes him a bad person... maybe not the kind of guy I'd associate with in real life... but I'm sure he's chill outside of this. I also don't wanna come across like on this moral high ground where I'm better than anybody because I definitely talk a lot of shit about everyone else, but as somebody who was in the same shoes as him once, I can empathize with how it feels right now. I can empathize because when I played Tumblr Survivor starting out I definitely was really messy for the fun of it and it slowly started to become un-fun when everyone made it their mission to kinda be shitty to me. I don't know what Ben's goal is here and I'm not a specialist trying to diagnose him, but... yeah. I just feel bad that he's being dogpiled by all of us with hateful attitudes is all. ANYWAYS, back to something that matters - me! I finally survived the dreaded second tribal council of the merge. I've already beaten that part from India, now I just need to make it past the next two votes and I've made it to my first goal - single digits!! I know that I'm competing with a lot of people for single digits right now lol but I hope that people wise up and start taking care of the real threats in the game, namely Livingston, John, Kailyn, and Joey. Getting a dark round, I think this is the best thing we could've asked for because like I said before, I think Keegan was holding himself back from really pushing his agenda. I think Keegan is aware how big of a threat John is in these games, so if I can sort of use Keegan's mistrust in John against him, I might be able to swing for a much bigger target this coming round - Livingston. I kinda feel like Livingston is REALLY well-connected on this tribe, he's basically best friends with everyone from Jake to Joey to Keegan to Pat. If I want to free some of those bigger names up, I really need to go for Livingston because his position is SO desirable right now. I think people are cognizant to the danger posed by those four guys, but no one is really looking at Livingston because they love him so much. If I can somehow convince John that getting rid of Livingston benefits both of us, I might take that shot. It's going to come at a huge fucking risk though, but doesn't everything when you're playing in the dark have a big risk associated with it? Then it just kinda takes getting Ben, Kailyn, and Xavier on my side as well and then the shot is literally so close I can taste it. HOWEVER! Before I start hyping myself up right now, I have to focus on what really matters to me - getting to the end. Resume building doesn't need to start at the final eleven. My biggest error in all of my past Tumblr Survivor games is that I start playing the game REALLY hard way too early. I've learned maybe a couple lessons in subtlety along the way, so planting seeds is gonna need to be the way to go. If I start saying things like, "isn't Livingston so cool? He's basically friends with everyone" and "I would like to see Livingston win if I'm not in the end, he's a really cool guy" it'll 1) be super obvious that I want to make a move against him and 2) maybe start giving people the idea that their best friend is their biggest competition in the end. Something doesn't need to happen tomorrow. It's about the long game, too. I just hope for my sake that I'm doing enough to keep my head above water. If tonight was proof of anything, it's that this game is going to get a lot more difficult.

I can't believe that worked so perfectly. Ben does everything I tell him to do, even down to interrupting me during the challenge. He's public enemy #1, and that's another meat shield for me. Stephanie goes - truthfully I feel horrible because she is so sweet - but that's the last person who I wasn't directly aligned with. Also, the Dark Round couldn't have come at a better time. If Ben or I win immunity, I have a plan to get out another big threat. And this is one of my favorite flash games. But at this point I need to act like Ben and I aren't tight. If I make it to the end everyone is gonna hate me. Oof.

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fandomele · 5 years ago

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it is a fact, though, that is is common for people to leave a bad relationship by falling into a new romantic one. it is not wise. it is a pattern of behaviour and codependency and can be a cycle that cannot be escaped. if I had a nickel for everyone I knew who just traded one relationship for another without dealing with what they needed to first, and then just want up making more excuses and putting up with more problematic behaviour, and trying to make it work. it's not about Chris. not

first of all: not only you (general you, the people of my original post, maybe you too, I don’t know) might be accusing a good, honest man and husband of being abusive or at the very least careless as hell, you are really assuming that Melissa must be unable to determine whether this relationship is okay or not because... everybody is the same, I guess, and you know her personally, know if she’s going to therapy, know what kind of support she has in her daily life, know how Chris behaves, know how aware she is of red flags and how careful she is now? Do the people posting about them know about any of this? Or are they just assuming things and deciding for her and publicly speaking about her as someone who can only be pushed around right now, something that frankly if Melissa read, or anyone in her position did, wouldn’t exactly feel great and would also feel pretty invasive and entitled?

yes, I’ve had friends in the same exact situation, in one case 3 monster-boyfriends in a row, and I’m well aware of how you must work on yourself too, it’s not enough to break up with a guy. I also have had friends who out of a toxic relationship and found the perfect guy and I’m so happy for her, she didn’t have to wait at all, it’s like he came from the sky and he’s the most sweet, respectful guy who takes care of her. Anything can happen. In no case, they’d want a stranger to start discussing their new partners in public, or their ability to say no, how much they might have healed before they dated someone new, how much detaching and healing and therapy was happening before they got together with the new person, and to doubt their ability to choose again. I don’t know about the people you know, but everybody I know would be disgusted and angry and feel very insulted.In fact, no one I know really wants even their friends to assume and imply and hint at them not having the ability to be in a decent relationship when 1 they aren’t asked 2 they don’t have all the facts 3 they aren’t asked and 4 they are actually discussing it in a public forum for other strangers. I’ll discuss how it is about Chris later, but even if it weren’t, nobody is entitled to spread suspects about a relationship between two people they don’t even know and who didn’t ask for those opinions (especially when they have been bullied for years and mistreated by loud parts of the public who was already making up stuff based on how they read the little they knew) and Melissa would be disgusted too, like anyone in her position. Like you would, if strangers started deciding how you are living and what problems you have and if your loved ones are assholes based on their experience.

Many abuse survivors have to also re-learn to trust their instincts, when they are in a new relationship they have to be careful about not becoming abusers themselves because they want to control the situation or expect the worst and mistreat their partner (happened to some of my friends as I said before), they have to re-learn to see what’s good and what isn’t without people, much less strangers, putting their two cents and filling their head with paranoia, insecurity, and honestly, straight up badmouthing the new guy based on their imagination, their prejudice towards him and/or their personal experience which is different for everybody. The abuse survivor could be in therapy, or sadly not, but they can read these things and still get more messed up because feeling powerless and unable to understand the situation they are in, it’s not all the same for everybody and I can’t imagine someone actually benefiting from these kind of posts, they can only cause harm (or delight for people who feel so excited about giving unsolicited opinions). Melissa won’t. Chris won’t. Abuse survivors reading this who already doubt themselves will be even more scared. Abuse survivors who are getting in another abusive relationship won’t realize what’s happening reading posts that gossip about Melissa’s new husband without proof. Melissa came out to help people in abusive relationships, not to have people start dissecting her life and her choices before and after.

And considering that some of the comments there were literally about Chris looking like her ex husband, some comments were about the things Chris does and that “”””must”””” make her feel bad but she’s too weak after her past problems to say no right away, I’d say that 1 it’s definitely personal and about Chris and there is hardly any good faith in it 2 in some cases people are projecting their own traumas. Don’t do that. It’s bad. You lose objectivity and you also mess up another person life 3 don’t assume you know how Melissa had changed now, what she’ll put up with, and what Chris considers healthy. It takes two to be in a couple. 4 don’t go spread your opinions about how she must be still manipulated by her new husband in tags where everybody can read and just take it at face value, which is not the same as you discussing it alone with your friend, it’s more like you standing on top of a table at the market and discussing the personal life of someone who works nearby and is an abuse survivor and telling people “I think her new boyfriend is still manipulating her because she didn’t take enough me-time after the divorce and he looks like an asshole and I have many other reasons to believe so”. You will get sued. You will get people to believe you even if they don’t have facts and make her more uncomfortable. You’ll get people to doubt their own instincts and hers, you’ll be dismissing what she says, how she feels, and somehow it’s still better than what’s happening on tumblr where people skip the whole ‘I think’ and go straight to ‘it’s like this, it’s a fact’. Look at the Melissa tag right now and tell me you don’t see posts speculating on what Chris has been doing and how it badly affected Melissa who was too weak to fight it. Or how men aren’t supposed to get together with women that fast (who cares about what the women want there, right). All put in words that would make anyone go ‘oh that must be true’ except you have no idea of what went down there and they are just, as always, making something look worse and worse so more people can later jump in and immediately go to the worst case scenario.

Also let’s not pretend that years after starring in a tvshow Chris doesn’t get regularly bullied by hundreds of people on all social networks because they can’t distinguish fiction from reality and also think they are bettering the world because they are punishing someone they deem morally questionable due to a role he played, and do so attacking everything from his physical appearance (classy and not at all going to hit people who have ‘flaws’ like his) and volunteer work and personality and mental issues.

And just to conclude with a personal and important anecdote: My friend, an abuse survivor, ended up adopting abusive techniques to deal with her new boyfriend. Because of how she described the relationship, with no facts, just my opinion and how I was so paranoid due to my past and due to tumblr itself, I was convinced he was the one acting with malice and being abusive because everything can be read that way if you have prejudices, and once she actually went to therapy it turns out that no, it’s not him, she’s manipulating him and he’s just an ass, and my idea that ‘I saw these two things he did, must be a pattern, she’s already been abused, he’s abusive too’ actually pushed her behind in her healing process. Because I spread my ideas as facts due to my own perception of what was happening, with the limited knowledge I am, I hurt people. What do you think what’s happening on tumblr will do to all the sensitive people reading? Don’t assume that something is happening just because ‘historically’ it can happen or because it happened to you and more importantly don’t spread it around. Don’t put malicious ideas in people’s heads. Hope for the best, if you believe the worst discuss it in private where it can’t harm anyone, but don’t tell me what Melissa must or must not be doing or feelings because we DON’T KNOW HER. You can barely try to guess what your friends do and feel with the knowledge they allow you to have, what more a stranger. Hell, even therapists have to be careful not to ‘decide’ what the patient has right away or they’ll only see what they want to see and dismiss the rest, it goes twice for people yelling about it on the internet.

#melissa benoist #abuse tw #I'm sorry this got so long but it all needs to be said #chris wood #Anonymous #ele answers

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lovecanbesostrange · 6 years ago

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Here’s another post about Grey’s Anatomy, and yes of course I’m again talking about Jo Karev. Sorry followers who don’t watch this show, but my Jo feels run me over like a truck twice a year...

I’m kinda amazed that she’s been on the show for seven seasons now, with Alex for kinda six of those (they were broken up all of S13, so technically five) and there hasn’t been a pregnancy yet. So everytime anything happens to Jo/Alex now, my mind just goes there. We’ve had jokes and hints about this since S10, but it never happened. And I know one of the loudest pro-voices for this storyline is Camilla herself.

[wow this turned into something... have a cut for easier scrolling]

The good thing is, with the latest development regarding Jo’s mom I feel for the first time a Jolex baby can actually benefit Jo as a character. The baby not just being this sorta goal of the romantic realtionship and building a wholesome family, but exploring all of Jo’s messed up experiences with “family”. Even back in S10 Alex mentioned having kids one day and it was always sort of a given these two would one day have a family of their own. (Because Alex will be an amazing dad and he should be. Ha, imagine that, two people being on the same page of one-day-we-gonna-have-kids from the start, what an unusual idea.)

Still, I am afraid the writers will throw this at us for the finale. While Jo has to fight her way out of depression we will get one of those looking-at-the-stick scenes as an emotional cliffhanger. I really don’t want that right now. So much no to that. I want the depression arc to be as separate from relationship drama as possible. Please. Just this once.

And also, here is the thing I have been tag-vomitting for years. WHY ON EARTH DID ALEX AND JO NEVER EVEN TALK ABOUT FOSTER KIDS? Why did I have to watch Owen suddenly foster a baby, that came with a teenage mom, so Amelia had somebody to care for as well and for a time the four became this patchwork thing? (Don’t get me wrong, the Amelia part of that storyline actually held my interest!)

The show has advocated for adoption and I’m glad about it. But we have these two characters who both spent time in the foster system and agree that it sucked. (For Alex it was a short, but hard time and he ended up in juvie, but also never lost contact with his mom over it. And Jo said fuck that shit with 16 to rather live in a stolen car.) When Owen got Leo he was overwhelmed that he got a baby and not a somewhat older kid, but I think that was for the best. Owen dealing with a kid who already developed trust issues and acted out? Only on his very best days maybe...But that is exactly something I can see Alex and Jo relate to.

So, here is an easy way to milk Jo-and-Alex-becoming-parents for some extra drama for the next two seasons!

In S16 we get a patient, around 12/14 years old or something (child actors, huge problem for longer storylines) I don’t have a preference towards a boy or a girl, so let me use Taylor as an unisex name here (which would fit with Alex and Jo anyway). There is no parent in the mix, just an overworked social worker (a good person, but stretched thin). The kid needs some big surgery. Alex as the peds surgeon is the lead of course, but throw in Avery and Maggie for consults, monitoring, possible complications.

Maybe this even is a pro-bono case or some charity stunt, we get a commentary about appaling healthcare out of this. Yes, good. Because who even thinks about foster kids? And Taylor is not nice to anybody. Because Taylor feels like this is a stunt and who cares about them and how many foster homes has it been since entering at the age of 6. (More social commentary? One parent is dead and the other in jail, Taylor doesn’t even know where, because the prison system is also terrible. Grey’s can check so many boxes at once.)

We have had rude/unruly kids as patients before and it was mostly solved by the end of an end with one stern talking or a good speech. But Taylor is not here for that. And damn, there are insults flying around. But the other doctors are annoyed outside and go all “oh, Taylor has it rough, we can’t be that mad; but I kinda want to slap that kid sometimes, though not really, just... you know”. Alex gets some as well, but he just insults Taylor back, because he’s Alex. Which is also why he sometimes has to hide his smile, because damn, the kid has some good burns.

The residents get ordered to do a test and they don’t want to go in, so two of them play rock-paper-scissors. Jo sees this and is “OMFG!”, dismissed them and does this herself. Taylor makes fun of her, because people in dark blue scrubs don’t do these kind of things, so she must have drawn the short straw or something. And she is just “actually other people did that, I’m here cause I want to”. (Please remember that Jo - when she was allowed to have medical storylines - did advocate for homeless people and even though she can be judgy herself, used to have this very soft side.)

The social worker stops by, it’s a huge concern of how Taylor will be able to follow up during the recovery time. Meds need to be taken for a while etc. Responsible foster parents are needed here. Taylor has missed school, changed schools, is suspected of starting a fire at one of the homes (wasn’t their fault though, but the new troubly kid gets kicked out first)... tough to fit. The doctors are sorry about this, but someone makes another careless comment like “if Taylor could try harder” (in the way Grey’s likes to use one person to say something dumb so others can put things into perspective, happens so often). Alex is the one to go off about it.

Jo and Alex are at home and they trade stories about foster homes. Real ones. And they just look at each other for a moment. Both have a copy of the requirements about fostering already, it’s totally crazy for sure, how could they, but also... well... (the worst part about this that the loft is probably a big obstacle, living with no walls? oh no, saying goodbye to one of the cutest sets for another generic house?!)

There’s already five episodes worth of development! And Taylor moving in with the Karevs isn’t all easy-peasy. Oh no, Taylor needs to test the limits. (Oh, I totally would want one of those cliche moments of vulnerable honesty in the hospital, where Jo is once again doing some minor test and talks to Taylor only to find out about a hobby or special interest. And the next scene she just slips in a book about it or something. No big words about it.)

And here is the best part, because S17 comes with new built-in drama. Because oops, now it does happen, Jo finds out she’s pregnant. They didn’t try, but Alex and Jo are happy. And Taylor is afraid that well, that’s it. Who keeps the foster kid around with a biological baby on the way? Alex and Jo are a bit dense about this, because to them that is not even a question, they finally live on the other side of this thing and would never view Taylor as the consolation prize that loses meaning. Some very heartfelt scenes and then a talk about adoption (that could involve finding the prison-parent who I guess would have to give up the rights in a legal way???? who knows, I don’t because I don’t plan on writing a fanfic that would require research into this..... I’m going by tv-drama 101 here)

And so Taylor becomes a Karev. Alex was born as Alex Evans, but Jimmy was a terrible father so he took his mother’s maiden name. Jo never had the name of someone who loves her until she could share it with Alex. So the tradition should keep going. Karev is a special name, okay?

WHY CAN’T I HAVE THIS ON THE SHOW?

(I could also write about how much I want for Vicki to return, but I guess there’s an actual chance for that. I had a scenario in my head that would involve Alexandra to seek out Jo, and I saw somebody on tumblr is writing that, but in a very different way. lol)

#Grey's Anatomy #Jo Wilson #Jo Karev #Alex Karev #Jolex #there's like the summary for a fanfic in this oops #ramblings

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smellycinnamonthundahfudge · 6 years ago

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tumblr fweinds

a year ago, i was tagged by @suplosers on two questionnaires and it is only now, a year later that i was able to answer em. i’m so sorry it took me this long but yah i’m just glad to get thru dis milestone, answering the first tumblr get to know ya post i was @ at... yaayyy ^^

rules: answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people.

I tag: tbd haha i still have to dig thru meh notifs to see which ones apparently took an interest in me so i’d like to take an interest in as well haha but oh @you-guys--are-losers, ur doing this whahaha hope it’s not too much of a bother, no presh watsoever ;3

the last

1. drink: ughh it's dis shitty stuff called hydrite w/c is basically salt water cus im sick rn and it's supposed to rehydrate ur shts or something hahaha

but dat was like a week ago... as of da moment i posted dis, it’s coffee from mini stop dat i drank at like 530 in da morn while i waited until i could enter the school cus i had to commute 3 hours w/ lil to none sleep

2. phone call: my father or one of my best friends

3. text message: the last one i texted was my sister and the last one i got a text from was dis org in school about the location for recruitment/auditions/interview

4. song you listened to: billy jean by michael jackson and i listened to it for meh tomdaya fic hahaha. But i also listened to halo by beyonce, untouchable and dress by taylor swift, and some other songs magmt mentions in her tomdaya fic hehe a week ago

rn, a metal cover of toxic by our last night

5. time you cried: haha i don't actually remember the context of it (i could find out tho haha cus i sent da pic to my best friend) but i took a pic of it while i did it which was on... july 16 hahaha. Oh but w8 oh sht i think i cried after that fudge w8 i don't remember the date (i think i can find this out too hahaha) but i wrote a sortof goodbye confessions letter to one of my dear friends and i wrote there that i externally cried (b4 i just said internally haha) so i'm not entirely sure i cried but i think im pretty sure i teared up hehe

6. dated someone twice: hahaha i haven't even had a legit love interest yet 😆😂 buuutt my best friend and i have "dated" as in spent entire days together w/ just the two of us, we even went to mcdonalds for valentine's day and got each other gifts hihihi aahhh gosh i miss her :'(

7. kissed someone and regretted it: haha im not even sure if dis happened and i have no plans on asking her about it but i remember when i was a kiddo, when my sis came home for some reason i kissed her on the lips hahaha dont remember if accidental or i just brain farted heck i aint even sure if it happened but das all i can answer cus well like i said, see #6 😆😂😆😂

8. been cheated on: hhmmm probs not, i have no idea if ive been cheated on in an unromantic way hahaha but in da romantic way, like i said, no love interest hahaha

Oh w8 does being someone's crush (i aint sure but it seemed like it) and crushing on dat dude but dat dude crushing on someone else too count as cheating? 😆😂😆😂

9. lost someone special: yes, all of my grandparents are dead. I've also lost pets, and i fear i may lose some of my friends due to the distance among us in this time of our lives

10. been depressed: i always wanna be careful over how to define depression. Like wat constitutes it... but yes, i think i have. Not sure, mind you, but yes, at the beginning of gr 7 i was really alone, i think i was bullied and i think i was depressed and going thru a really dark phase of my life back then. But then again, i have to say, i'm not sure.

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: hahaha nope. I'm looking forward to getting drunk tho. Im currently underage so im not allowed to drink dat much yet but yeah i wanna know my limits hehehe i hope im da kinda gurl who can handle her liquor but i have drank and i have to say it made me all loopy and weird and just like woke or high or something hahaha so yeah man im excited to get trashed on my 18th bday hahaha (hopefully i get to do this tho huhuhu)

3 favourite colours

12. Pink

13. Blue

14. Gray

in the last year have you

15. made new friends: yyeeesssss and i'm so glad i have hihi. I have made friends w/ a select group of my blockmates and they're awesome and weird, i hope to strengthen our bond in da future hehe. Ooohhh and i sure hope that you guys are losers is my friend cus she's been rlly great :')

16. fallen out of love: i guess the closest i've come to falling out of love in a romantic way is moving on from da heavy crushin on meh crush. But i dunno, i still think he's a unicorn n pretty special to me so i dunno hahaha.

But bro, i do think i have fallen out of love. With tv shows, with characters. Like i used to be so passionate about a few shows and characters but now all i have towards them is regret heck i cant even remember wat dey are but i know dat der was love lost. I know it.

17. laughed until you cried: hahaha yaasss i think so. It's either when i was with my best dearest friends or during the class of dis really cool and funny as heck joker teacher who makes us laugh in EVERY SINGLE CLASS hahaha ahhh das guy's so cool

18. found out someone was talking about you: oohh yah yah i think so. Either from my best friends or from a few of my old classmates i care about and had gotten close with. Da best friend ones was about something in my past/history (g7) and the classmates one i think was just dem talking about me and they told me about it ooohhh i think it was my crush hahahaha. They told me dat my crush actually admired me a lot hehe. There was one time my friend (the one who told me about dis) was putting make up on me for a school film, and my crush was da cam guy and he told my friend i looked pretty. Sooo im pretty lucky dat- oh sht w8 i dunno if it's dis year but oh w8 no, it was on my bday last year (dec 20) and da same friend said she was sorry cus apparently da bois make fun of me or something and she was sorry cus she laughed along too hahaha but i didnt mind cus i know im weird and i dont even know what dey say about me in da first place hahahaha. Ok das it im done, i think ive overshared now hahaha 😆😂😆😂

19. met someone who changed you: my best friends. Ive thought about it based on wat sup losers said about change for da better and i dont rlly think of change as something dat happens quick, i think it happens over time and u dont even notice it. So ok oh sht i think im wrong cus i met my best friends 4/6 years ago hahaha but for reals tho, i was in a dark place and if it werent for dem i think id still be lost lonely and sad. Uuhhmmm in regards to answering the question correctly, i guess my blockmates count since they inspire/challenge me to be better. OH SHT W8 i def think you guys are losers and dead end street and tomdaya receipts and tout de suite have changed me hehehe. Da first 2 in dat dey inspired me to write more hehe. Da 1st one inspired me to do this so i think this counts as change hehe. And da last 2 changed me in dat bcus i met dem, i became OBSESSED w/ tomdaya hahaha.

20. found out who your friends are: yes, i have actually. And it's all because i am now currently a college freshman as well as my friends.

21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: hahaha my fam i guess hahaha. But no one in a romantic context.

general

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: hhmmm i guess id say about 200 since i know 4 sections of around 40 ppl and da rest is like fam and ppl ive met once/twice or have passed by haha

23. do you have any pets: yaaaassss 3 doggos: albie, juju, and biggie girl. Juju has a pupper named tchalla called dat cus he black hehehe and biggie has 2 biglets named mermer (meredith) and crissy (cristina) cus they're sisters 😍😊😊

My fam have also had a buncha dogs n puppers before but they were either given away or passed away. My bro also has dis cat named bob and i think he counts as a semi pet since my bro's home is a fam home.

24. do you want to change your name: uuhhh i wish i had an alliterative name like superheroes. Buutt im pretty happy w/ my name :')

25. what did you do for your last birthday: oohhhh i think i was at my section's christmas party it was pretty nice n emotional and i spent da rest of da day w/ 2 of meh best friends who bought me cake n food when my own fam didn't 😆😂😆😂

26. what time did you wake up: 4 am to shit cus im sick, but fell asleep again and officially got up around 730 or 8ish

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: haha tryna stay awake cus i had to drink meh meds and failed oh so much and i think i was asleep by midnight hahaha

28. name something you can’t wait for: tomdaya content, chatting/being w/ my best friends, watching da stuff i wanna watch, tumblring, reading sht i wanna read, vacation, writing fanfics, learning how to do a buncha stuff (write screenplays, make films n gifs, draw better), my bday when i hopefully get to do wat i want haha, avengers 4 and smffh, and captain marvel and antman and the wasp too i guess haha oh and the incredibles 2 and httyd 3 😍😍😍 oohhh and crazy rich asians

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: on monday which was when i was at home and not at my dad's n sis' n i's apartment in manila for school/work

31. what are you listening to right now: commercials on da tv as i answer this long ass questionnaire hahaha

32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: hahaha i had to think about dis one but yah i have actually haha he was my gr 8 class mate n i like to think semi friend back den at least haha. Oh w8 but he doesn't go by tom tho, it's just thomas haha

33. something that is getting on your nerves: myself hahaha my shitty lazy ass procrastinating self hahaha 😅🙍

34. most visited website: fb specifically messenger, youtube, and tumblr

35. hair colour: hmmm black w/ a bit of brown i guess (ASIAN, YO! 😆😂😆😂)

36. long or short hair: neither, medium i guess haha. I like how long hair looks but it's such a bother n hassle haha. So i def would prefer short hair on a practical standpoint hahaha (im actually thinking of shaving the hair above my nape, yknow on da back of my head hehe)

37. do you have a crush on someone: well i dont have dat much of a crush on da crush i mentioned before, like i said haha. I have a crush on tomdaya, does dat count? 😆😂

38. what do you like about yourself: hahahaha nothing 😆😂😆😂🙍

Naahh uhhh i guess i like how much i love tv shows, i love meh fangirl self, and i like how diff n unique n weird i am, how i stand out, n dat i think my dreams are noble n worth tryin out. N i like how supportive n nice i am n im just chill on da outside haha. N sometimes i like meh face hehe. And i think dat im hilarious n weird n ppl should appreciate me more hahaha das y i crave for more validation dan consulting researchers hahaha (no one laughs at dat jokes and it's like im da only one who finds it funny and come on, man, i managed to make a research joke. Cant ya give a girl a break?)

n i guess sometimes it's good how much i care but sometimes i wish my feels could just chill for just like a minute pls

Thanks, man. I usually just focus on meh bad qualities so thanks for dis question, man :')

oh and i like dat i can swim hehe

39. piercings: i have holes on my ears for earrings but i don't really wear dem

40. blood type: a, i think?

41. nickname: sam, sab, and i rlly want to be called smells cus it's like a more me version of mels from melody hahaha

42. relationship status: single, yo. Oh w8 but i am married to my bed and fandoms so dey always come first. Plus i love my friends 😍😊

43. zodiac: sagittarius i think but i dont rlly know/care about zodiac sht. Tho it's nice if it does match up hehe

44. pronouns: uhhh i dont know wat to put here but i assume dis refers to wat i wish to be referred by ssoooo she, her, and a genderless pronoun in my language siya

45. favourite tv show: ughh i cant choose. Friends, grey's anatomy, phineas and ferb, avatar: the last airbender, black mirror, doctor who, and all of michael schur's stuff, and modern family, grimm, person of interest, pushing daisies, scrubs, happy endings, forever, how i met your mother, gravity falls, sherlock, and yknow wat? Yah, supernatural too and the httyd shows and suits :') oooohhh w8 and how to get away w/ murder and i guess big bang theory as well 😃 the end of the fucking world, legends of tomorrow, crazy ex-girlfriend, the good place, timeless but it’s kinda depressing so speaking of w/c game of thrones and west world and a series of unfortunate events and stranger things and scorpion and lost in space and for anime, let’s go with yakitate japan and boku no hero academia

46. tattoos: none, but i rlly want one and even have a list of tattoos i want (pretty minimalist), i just have to think of da perf place tho (both where to put it and where to get it) and find out if i can still donate meh bod if i have tattoos, but one of da ones i rlly want is smileys on meh fingers hehe

47. right or left handed: right, but my ma says im kinda ambidextrous n i kinda wish i could develop it hehe

48. surgery: haha nope, never. But in terms of an interest, i love grey's anatomy 😆😂

50. sport: ooohh my main sport is swimming cus my siblings are all swimmers so i am too. But i have played other sports for school like badminton, table tennis, volleyball, some water game i dont remember haha, and a combat sport in my country called arnis

51. vacation: christmas vacay and i cant wait huhu

52. pair of trainers: uhhh are trainers rubber shoes? I have a couple, i guess.

GENERAL

53. eating: my dad (who cooked our meal), sis, and i ate afritada (chicken dat's tomatoey basically) for dinner

54. drinking: just water, but ugh i have to drink da hydrite sht again 😑😒

55. I’m about to: finish dis questionnaire n fall asleep haha

56. waiting for: sleep n happiness

57. want: to sleep n write n tumblr n watch n read n for all my problems to disappear

58. get married: yeahhh... but i think it's highly unlikely, man. So i aint counting on it but i do want it to happen, it seems nice having someone to spend da rest of your life with :')

59. career: hahaha i'm still just a college student, just a newly minted freshman actually. But i like to consider myself a fulltime fangirl hahaha

WHICH IS BETTER

60. hugs or kisses: well, i havent rlly made out with anyone yet so im gonna have to say hugs i guess w/c ofc i love haha but i wish someone bigger than me could cuddle me for once in my life 😢

61. lips or eyes: lips cus they just seem so soft and sensual hehe. Plus i dunno man, eyes are kinda gross with muta (da sht in da corner of ur eyes when you wake up, it's a filipino word) and sht. And ya have to wear glasses/contacts if dey weak so it's just such a hassle. Tho i do recognize their importance n stuff 😊

62. shorter or taller: ugh TALLER. im a pretty tall gal so for once id like to be da lil spoon for once, for someone to be able to carry me and ya know all dat jazz. But i wouldnt give up my height for anything, makes me feel confident and better than everyone else mwuehehehehehehe

63. older or younger: uuuhhh for now i think it's a bit weird to date someone younger dan me, but for me personally, wat age i'd like to be, YOUNGER ALL DA WAY. it was just way less stressful and innocent back den, id give anything to go back 🙍

64. nice arms or nice stomach: haha nice arms if it means i can swing around them and they can carry me whahaha. But i do like em abs, i wanna feel wat abs feel like just once in my life hahaha

65. hookup or relationship: ooohhh i guess i fancy myself having a relationship for now hehe. Havent even had one yet haha.

66. troublemaker or hesitant: i am a hesitant troublemaker whahahahaha. Like i have all these ideas of thangs to do n sometimes i do dem but sometimes da situation n context scares me into not doing it like a wuss hahaha

HAVE YOU EVER:

67. kissed a stranger: haha nope.

68. drank hard liquor: haha nope but am looking forward to it hehe

69. lost glasses/contact lenses: thankfully i havent needed any yet whew

70. turned someone down: uhhh i guess the closest i came to "turning someone down" was being awkward around my crush haha but to be fair i think he was awkward too hahaha. And in an unromantic sense, i turned down a blockmate who offered to be my partner in an assignment becus i already had a partner hahahaha 😅

71. sex on the first date: haha havent experienced it if das wat ur askin. Maybe imma be dat kinda person after ive had a couple of relationships but for now i'll settle for someone actually being interested in me hahaha

73. had your heart broken: yes, by tv shows, and by da crappiness of life in general 🙇

74. been arrested: hahahaha nope but dat would be CRAZY hahaha

75. cried when someone died: yes, whether in real life or in tv shows, i have cried bcus of death 😢

76. fallen for a friend: look, man, my best friend's probably the most important person in my life who i couldnt bear to lose. I love her more dan anything in da world so i dunno if our friendship is something more dan da "typical" best friends i just know dat i love her n dat i dont wanna lose her n dat our bond's nothing like any other relationship ive ever had

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

77. yourself: hahahaha not rlly 😅 im pretty unreliable tbh and i make tons of mistakes and ill never be enough ever and just in general hate myself and have 0 self esteem hahaha 😅😅😅😓

But there's a chance i could improve tho, a very very VERY small tiny chance... but i guess i'll take wat i can get :/

78. miracles: hhmmm not in da way most ppl think about miracles in dat, it's da impossible event. I like to think it's a miracle that i have the family dat i have, da friends dat i have, and da life dat i have cus honestly i think i'd be dead w/o em. It's a fucking miracle i have things im passionate about and things that i love and im surrounded by ppl who i love and who love me as well. So yeah, i guess i believe in those kinds of miracles :')

79. love at first sight: hahaha not rlly. Look, man, im a fat girl who doesnt rlly care dat much about looks so unless a person manages to fall for someone while dat someone was doing something dat was a huge indicator of their personality and thus it's not only da appearance dat da person "fell in love w/", den i rlly dont believe in love at first sight. It's just infatuation, bruh. Love at first sight is cheap and u dont rlly know any thing about dat person other than the fact that they're pretty (why they caught ur eye in da 1st place imo) and nothin, zilch. Unless, like i said, they were doing something important to dem n indicative of deir personality. But even then, it wouldnt be love. Like i said, it'd be infatuation cus imo love is deep and takes time and cant just HAPPEN just cus u looked at someone and thought he/she was pretty 😒. True love would mean knowing dat person to deir bone but wanting to know more about dem. So to conclude a ted talk from a bitter person w/ a non existent love life 😆😂😂😂, love at first sight doesnt exist, is cheap, and is discriminatory to "ugly" ppl.

80. santa claus: hahaha i know he probs doesnt exist and is u know basically just capitalism n marketing hahaha. But i dunno, man, i kinda wanna believe he exists just cus it's more fun n childlike n innocent 😍

81. kiss on the first date: hahaha yeah i guess so but i think i probs would have had to known dat person for a while before we decided to date. I havent had a first kiss yet sooo i aint just willin to give dat out to someone i just met/knew for like a day or something hahaha (i have no idea how dating works) 😆😂😆😂😆😂

82. angels: huh... i like to think guardian angels exist cus dat means there are like angels of pure light sent down from heaven to protect us from any harm w/c is just nice to think about, yknow? Hehe. But angels in da catholic sense... i dont think i do, bruh. Sorry :/ *shrugs*

OTHER:

84. eye colour: uuhhhh brown, i guess? Like i said, i dont rlly care much for eyes hahaha 😅 ooohh but da purple eyes thang ive seen on da internet sounds cool hahaha

85. favourite movie: aaaahhhhh there's just so many good movies thoo

But agghh fine. Ive come to notice dat my genre's pretty lighthearted w/c is nice actually hehe

Spider-Man: Homecoming, Rogue One, 10 Things I Hate About You, Moana, Coco, Mulan, Avengers: Infinity War, White Chicks cus it's just so goddamn funny and iconic 😆😂😆😂😍, i'm not- ok you know wat, da Pixar movies in general ok? I mean, how can ya not? Oh which reminds me, Tangled, and The Princess and The Frog, oohh The Avengers is also a pretty solid movie, ooohhh Love, Simon, godhs dat was just such a wholesome sweet n nice movie :'), oh and den i freaking love the Scream franchise, man. It's so good :'), oooohhh w8 maybe The Dark Knight cus heath ledger was just da fuking bomb in dat movie, oohh and About Time's da sweetest time travel movie :') w/c reminds me dat the Back to the Future franchise was just such a classic, man :') oh and yknow wat? Unbreakable's actually pretty fucking cool, man. I get shyamalan know haha. Oh and yknow wat? 100 Tula Para Kay Stella is da 1st filipino film i actually liked so it has a special place in meh heart :')

ooohhh and Black Panther, man, gods how can one not bring up Da King™? WAKANDA FOREVER :') 😄

Oh and hey yknow wat? I have a sweet spot for the Sorcerer's Apprentice. It's kinda a guilty pleasure of mine hehe 😅

Whiicchh reminds me... the HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON FRANCHISE HAS GOT MY HART WHIPPED 😭😭😭

Oh and i also rlly like when harry met sally hihi :') and i guess the OG Star Wars trilogy's got a special place in my heart even if it is da way dat it is now 😢 :')

oh and i can't forget meh guardians :') Guardians of The Galaxy is such a solid film, bro. I loved it :') ooohhh and yknow wat? I actually rlly like Ready Player One, Baby Driver, and The Mummy (the brendan frasier one, who ya kiddin 😑)

oh and yknow wat? The Wedding Singer, 50 First Dates, and Music & Lyrics has got a special place in my heart, man. Gotta admit it :')

aawww and amelie, and begin again, and flipped and hercules, and room, and spotlight, and shape of water, and ladybird, and the princess bride, and the iron giant, and the lobster, and we're the millers, and what if and man up and shrek and kimi no na wa and a quiet place and inception and the lion king and to all the boys I’ve loved before and oooh tim burton movies are pretty cool, the animated ones, and I did spend a good amount of time obsessed w/ dis one so I guess cap civil war, and then big hero 6 and wreck it ralph, and the martian and inside out, and gone girl, and the lion king and forrest gump and spider-man 1 and 2, and les miserables and the devil wears prada and the book of life and the intern and the princess diaries and miss congeniality and aladdin and confessions of a shopaholic

And ok, ok, i think im done. Hahaha das it das my list of meh all time fav movies and i feel like rewatching all of em now hahaha 😍

#jazzessments

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