#i hate familial attention which my birthday unfortunately consists of

[crowsmutt]

obligatory birthday art

[airashisakura]

For @ssskmonth Prompt used: Favorite food

Present

A/N: Major spoilers warnings for those who don’t follow Boruto Manga. After chapter 55 events.

Part 1

Part 2

FFN | AO3

Sarada scrunched her nose in irritation. The rice porridge she had been trying to cook didn’t taste right. Frustrated, she dropped the ladle on the granite slab. A few minutes before she had tasted it, and it lacked salt. She was so sure that she had sprinkled in the right amount, and now she couldn’t understand how that could ruin the taste.

I never have trouble with this recipe! She cried in frustration. And why is it happening TODAY of all days?

It was a simple recipe that she knew how to cook. Perhaps it was things around her that distracted her.

She twisted the knob of the burner with much more force than required, turning off the stove. She dropped the lid over the pot forcefully and cringed at the sharp metallic sound.

The start of the day had been good for her. Like every year, this birthday also started with the sight of her mother grinning widely. It was a bit too early, however.

Her mother had given her a squishing hug as she wished her birthday, and like every year, she giggled and returned her mother’s embrace. Everything around her could change, but maybe this routine never would.

Perhaps it could. She was no longer a child who hid behind her mother when she was afraid to face something. She had been on her fair share of missions and was beginning to grasp the essence of shinobi life. She was a kunoichi now, and she had confronted the death of her comrades. She had accepted this ugly truth, but watching her father recuperate had made things worse for her. Sitting beside her unconscious father in the hospital had almost given her a taste of what it felt like to lose someone close.

Trying not to concentrate on her thoughts, she padded towards the refrigerator. She tried to occupy her mind with how to fix the porridge. One thing she could do to balance the salt was to add more rice to porridge. She sighed in relief when she spotted a bowl of rice in one of the cabinets.

She turned on the stove again, adding the rice and water to adjust its consistency and let it boil.

She tapped her fingers on the granite slab, eyeing the bubbling water. With nothing to do at the moment, her mind wandered off to her teammate.

She reached for other ingredients and measured in each carefully. While she was stirring the porridge, she realised that with her team on suspension from missions, she hadn’t seen Boruto lately. Boruto seemed to be doing fine, but she had realised she was wrong when Shikadai pointed out that of all people, Boruto was the one who’d been affected most by the incident.

Maybe I’ll call him up, Sarada thought while she cracked eggs into a bowl.

However, she felt like he had been ignoring her, and decided not to call him while she gathered the chopsticks and started beating the eggs.

She had mixed feelings regarding Boruto. Although she understood it wasn’t Boruto’s fault at all, every time she saw her father’s injuries, she couldn’t control the anger that surfaced. She tried to shake off the feeling as she poured the beaten eggs into the porridge. She didn’t want to blame Boruto for what had happened.

After closing the lid on the pot again, she buried her face into her palms, leaning against the counter. She really hated this cycle — understanding Boruto’s helplessness and then ending up holding a grudge against him. No matter how hard she didn’t want to think about it, the thought of what havoc he might cause when he lost control of his body again dreaded her. She knew Boruto was now a potential threat. What if she had to do something in future herself?

She was too confused to think straight. With a sigh, she removed the lid to see if it was done. Satisfied with the consistency, she sprinkled in some spring onion and reached for a bowl to pour some for her father.

Sarada knocked lightly on the door, announcing her presence to her father. Although it had been routine for a few days, she waited till her father responded. A small smile adorned her face when she heard him ask her to come in.

She realized she rarely had any time with Sasuke like this. They usually trained together or ate dinner when he came back from his mission. She never had felt his day-to-day presence as such.

She pushed the door open. She tried to suppress her excitement, but she didn’t have to work hard when she saw her father reading a scroll.

“Didn’t mama tell you not to strain your eye?” Sarada asked him, pretending to be offended.

She kept the tray on the bed-side table and heard the scroll falling on the bed with a light thud.

Sarada fidgeted on her foot sheepishly, waiting for her father to wish her a happy birthday. She looked around the room, trying not to be obvious. The silence stretched, and it became a bit uncomfortable, so she asked him.

“How are you feeling today?”

"Better," Sasuke nodded, his voice as reserved as always.

Sarada adjusted her glasses, and scrutinized her father's face. He didn't look any better than he had the previous days. Although her mother assured her there was nothing to worry about, she sensed that her father wasn’t doing well.

She wasn't quite sure if her father was sad or if he really was better. Sometimes she was really amazed by how her mother managed to read behind her father’s stoic mask.

His long absence from her life made her sad because she knew Uchiha Sasuke only in two ways — one when he was happy and proud of her, and the other when he was indifferent and unattached with his surroundings. She didn’t know much about her father, and maybe her father didn’t know much about her.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, patting his hand on the side beside him and gesturing for her to sit.

Sarada plopped on the bed beside him; and replied, “Boruto.”

He listened with a rapt attention as Sarada recounted her concerns and could only wonder when his little Sarada, who hardly could make coherent sentences when he had left for his mission, had grown up. He had missed so many years and so many things, he realized.

Sarada frowned when she asked him, “Papa, do you think anything is going to happen to Boruto?”

Sasuke knew what she was talking about, but didn’t interrupt her.

“Since he is a potential danger now,” she explained.

Sasuke sighed, closing his eyes, partly in relief and partly agitated. “Don’t worry about that. This isn’t the old Konoha. The present council doesn’t take any harsh measures.”

Sarada gave him a perplexed look, and Sasuke realised what he had said. However, he didn't falter, and waited for her next question.

“What about old Konoha?”

“A lot,” he paused and thought about whether to complete his sentence.

“About the old system.”

About that unforgivable system that ran on blood and filthy tricks.

“About the old councilors.”

About those insensitive bureaucrats who didn’t think twice before ordering a thirteen-year-old to butcher his own clan and family.

“And about our clan.”

About the family I once had.

Sarada was thrown off by his sudden straightforwardness. He had always measured the amount of information he fed her and had always dismissed her when she pried much about the clan and the doujutsu. She couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, and she didn’t know how to react until she noticed.

“The food,” she squeaked. Sarada touched the bowl and wailed, “Oh no! It turned cold.”

It reminded him of Sakura, and he smirked before he said, “Ah, but I can eat.”

“You sure? I can go and reheat if you say so,” Sarada said as she set a low table on the bed and placed the bowl there.

Sasuke nodded, and murmured, “Itadakimasu.”

He took a spoonful of porridge, and asked her, “Did you cook this?”

Sarada nodded eagerly. “Mama had to leave early for the hospital today, but it isn’t like mama’s, though,” she pouted. “I messed up while adding salt.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sasuke lied. The porridge was too watery with a lot of rice, and it tasted disbalanced.

He wondered again when his daughter had grown up so much. Although he knew they were shinobi and they were supposed to, he couldn’t shake off the image of the tiny girl born to them years ago, and the shiny big black orbs that had stared at him when he had held her in his arm for the first time.

Sasuke took a few more bites of food and decided to break the silence, “What do you want for your birthday?”

“Eh?” Sarada blushed, although she tried hard not to overreact.

So Papa remembered.

She grinned harder and nodded her head, saying, “Nothing. You being at home is more than enough for me.”

But when the words slipped, she realised perhaps her reply wasn’t apt. Some unfortunate events making him stay home wasn’t what she wanted.

“I didn’t mean that way,” she reprimanded herself. “This is the first time you’re home on my birthday and...”

She didn’t know how to explain further, looking at the ground.

As far as she could remember in her childhood, Sasuke had never been home for her birthdays except a few years during which she didn’t have a clear memory.

Sasuke again took a spoonful of porridge and said, “Aah,” and smiled lightly and added, “maybe training?”

“You know mama won’t be a bit happy about this?” Sarada deadpanned.

Sasuke scoffed and after a second, both were laughing.

It was the first time she had seen her father so unguarded. She had made many memories, spent precious time with her father, and learned a lot, but this Sasuke was an entirely new one to her. For that moment, she stopped blaming all the wrong things that had happened to her, to her father, and to her family and cherished the moment. Seeing him so casual, she decided to say something she had been thinking about.

“I’m sorry. I had always resented you because you couldn’t live with us. I wondered why you had to go on a mission for so long.”

Sasuke was a little taken aback at the moment. Years of sacrifice had created a large mass of guilt inside him. However, Sakura always supported him, but he knew he owed an apology from Sarada for his absence. He wasn’t sure how. Words weren't his way, and he was too overwhelmed to say anything after what her daughter said.

Sarada smiled widely, and added, “Thank you for protecting us, Papa”.

“Aah.”

(Since chapter 55 was released in March, I assumed it to be around Sarada's birthday)

Part 3

[vespertine-legacy]

Weekend Ops Shenanigans I forgot to post about!

Prog group is back on the Alabama Murder Droids. We can consistently get to burn phase, but then something goes awry there, and we don’t all get the debuff to get magnetized to the deck, or something goes wrong and we lose either Vi or Frenzy, and unfortunately we don’t usually have a battle res at that point (which if we were able to save our res for that point, I have an instant cast res, so if we could actually make it to burn phase without anyone dying, that would be ideal...).

(I also got distracted on one pull because of my sister calling to tell me happy birthday, and then telling the raid group “yeah sorry it’s apparently my birthday so my family wants to talk to me or whatever” was fun

“what do you mean apparently your birthday?” bruh time isn’t real anymore

“does anyone else feel shocked and lied to that her birthday isn’t in November?”)

Then we moved on to 16m HM Dread Palace with Panty Raid, which for the most part went so good. Aside: after getting tips from Tom and fixing Eleison’s amplifiers, my dps is overall a lot better (though I still parse better on trash and ops dummies than on bosses, and I get why, it’s just frustrating that I can be top of the dps list on mobs and then bottom of the list on actual bosses).

We cleared Calphayus pretty handily. The Raptus fight did give us a little bit of trouble. I really think we could have cleared it on our first pull, but we were instructed to jump over the edges after we passed all the challenges but lost both tanks, half the healers, and a significant number of the dps, but Raptus was down to like 22% and since Princess and I were still up, either of us could have kept threat (especially with Tom and Frenzy both dead and able to just watch Raptus’s casts and tell us to taunt off each other), and it seemed like he was going down pretty quickly? But anyway, the second pull was fine. I fucking hate the troll move he does of porting a random person back over to the bridge though, like sir get back over here and let me kick your ass.

The Council fight was...something.

On our first pull, we were doing really well, had folks assigned to keep each boss busy and keep us apprised of their HP, healers assigned to keep alive the folks keeping the attention of the bosses, overall a very solid battle plan. And then Bestia got stuck in a crystal after she kicked Tom and reset the fight? The game started playing the “hooray! you won!” music, and it was very confusing. Another pull went much better, but some misplaced tactical markers made some people think they were Safe when Brontes did her Lightning FunTimes, and they were Very Much Not Safe, and then we managed to push Calphayus too far with DOTs and he got Power of the Masters off and wiped us (not sure if it was my fault or Frenzy’s fault, since Frenzy was holding Calphy and she had me helping to get his HP down before helping get the others pushed).

On our final pull, everything was going pretty much perfectly. Folks were hitting their marks, pulling the bosses exactly where they needed to be. We got Bestia down to 75% almost immediately on pull. Frenzy and I got Calphy to the right percentage in about the time it took the group to get Tyrans and Raptus where they needed to be. Styrak melted. No one died to Brontes. Bestia, Tyrans, Raptus, and Calphy came back for their final phase, the group started taking a lot of damage, but we had our plan and our order.

And then Frenzy gave us sonic rebounders and killed us all.

;-;

[markcampbells]

thirty questions

@the-blind-assassin-12 tagged me; thanks, Alyssa :) and tagging @malionnes because she’s one of the only ones who reads these all the way through.

Name/nickname: Tracy. I go by Trai because I always went by it in the Internet stranger-danger days (more adrogynous) and because I went through a period of being ~~unique~~ where I wanted to spell my name with an i instead. I dropped that, but Trai stuck with my middle and high school friends, though there’s only one of those left who calls me that regularly. I never insisted on it to my college friends so they all call me Tracy, though one of them and I call each other “twin” as a mutual endearment since our interests are extremely similar. If I’m introducing myself or referring to myself in an online context, like here on Tumblr, it’s pretty much always by Trai.

Gender: Female

Star sign: Capricorn. Which gets left out of astrology memes a lot, I feel like? Anyway.

Height: Uh, I always say 5′3″ and just assume that’s true, so... that. 

Time: 1:55 PM

Birthday: January 3rd. So my 30th is coming up in 2021, aka Plague Year Part II.

Favorite bands: The Killers and Florence + the Machine. I should listen to more Tegan and Sara and Of Monsters and Men because I like particular albums of theirs but haven’t gone into their wider discographies.

Favorite solo artists: I’m regrettably not current on all these, but present and past favorites include Michelle Branch, Vanessa Carlton, Ingrid Michaelson, KT Tunstall, Jason Mraz, Alanis Morissette, Nelly Furtado, and Anna Nalick. 

Song stuck in my head: Earlier I read a book title that had the word Yellow in it and ended up with “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” so that’s... not particularly helpful.

Last movie: The Prom. My movie watching has been extremely thin on the ground last year since my attention hasn’t been up for it. In recent months (going back to August) a handful of others I watched were Water Lilies, Kajillionaire, The Boys in the Band, and Howard.

Last show: Six Feet Under, which I’m watching for the first time. I’m almost at the end of Season 1 and I honestly love it. It isn’t really a surprise to me that I do--I like black comedy, I unfortunately had a lot of death in my family in my formative years so my mom and I have always had a sense of humor about that kind of thing (plus she grew up over a funeral home herself), and I was always interested in it knowing Michael C. Hall’s character and his partner were significant for gay representation on TV--but it is always a pleasant find to find a TV show you genuinely enjoy watching.

When did I create this blog: April 2nd, 2010. Back in my day we got the damn Tumbeasts error message AND WE HATED IT.

What do I post: Well, it used to be more consistent when I had more consistent interests, but now it’s kind of a mess. I used to love posting more about what I was reading, but haven’t done that much lately. Period drama/Jane Austen can be a strong presence, and in recent years my attachment to Star Trek has grown. Doom Patrol and Legends of Tomorrow during their seasons tend to be strong fixtures. Matt Bomer and Chris Pine show up when they’ve got projects going (David Tennant used to feature more in the old days but I’ve strayed from his fandom). Queer art and queer culture.

Last thing googled: “will ferrell owen wilson.” I went into the break room to wash my hands after the end of my shift and a movie was playing on MTV that I didn’t recognize from the off. I think it was Wedding Crashers, which I saw back when it came out and then never again, so I’m not sure. I tend to be curious about what movie is playing on TV if I don’t recognize it.

Other blogs: @pinesexualmckirk is where I’m attempting to put my more niche Star Trek posting (and is acting as a repository for the McKirk fanfics I want to read eventually). I have started literally two writing sideblogs that I convinced myself I was going to use someday (@ashes-and-silverware for original and @intellect-and-romance for fanfic) but never have because I keep being annoying on main, I guess? I don’t write fanfic anymore so the second one is probably a dead fish, but I always tell myself maybe someday I’ll get the original one going.

Do I get asks: Mostly from Cait, but I will always welcome more. Back in the old days I actually used to get an impressive amount of asks about Doctor Who and One Tree Hill.

Why I chose my url: Mark is my original character created in conjunction with Cait, and for a while we had our URLs paired as the couple. I kept mine because I like it sort of being a reference for just us, LOL. I used to be tutorgirlx3 and haley--james after Haley of One Tree Hill, but over time I felt as I drifted away from the show/fandom it wasn’t a great fit.

Following: 721. I try to cull occasionally, but haven’t in a while.

Followers: 1,927, and to be quite honest I do not deserve that many and I’m almost certain the vast majority of those are dead blogs. Those old days of Doctor Who and One Tree Hill built up my follower base in a way I never really deserved (I never posted all that much original content). A lot of people from those days aren’t around anymore, so that’s why I think a lot of the blogs are dead, but I appreciate the number regardless; thank you all.

Average hours of sleep: Probably around seven or eight. I really try to get that much when I can, partly because being a 4 AM shift worker means my sleep is weirder than everyone else’s and I feel like I need more of it.

Lucky number: 3

Instruments: I tried learning guitar for a while but to be honest I never had the discipline to practice it.

What am I wearing: Old Navy pajama shorts with cats playing with Christmas lights, and I’m trying to decide if I’m going to change my top. I have either a black Doom Patrol t-shirt or a purple tank top that says Reality Is For People Who Can’t Handle Victorian Feminist Literature that I wear around the house a lot.

Dream job: It used to be editor, but I no longer want to use my degree in that way because I’ve heard too many horror stories from people about working in publishing killing their desire to read for pleasure. At this point, with as many years in retail behind me as I have, literally anything with a desk would be fine with me.

Dream trip: England. I want to see all the literary houses and bookstores I didn’t get to see the first time around.

Favorite food: Sweet, brownies. Other than that, dill pickles, probably chicken tenders, and honestly I love steak and cheese chimichangas.

Nationality: American

Favorite song (at the moment): Some of the last few I’ve liked enough to buy have been “Someone You Loved” and “Before You Go” by Lewis Capaldi and “Diamonds” by Sam Smith. Eternally, it’s “The Chain” by Ingrid Michaelson.

Last book read: I reread Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, which is one of my favorites. My concentration has been really fucking suffering this year so me finishing anything is monumental, but currently I’m trying to get through (prepare yourselves): Who is Vera Kelly? by Rosalie Knecht, The Color Purple by Alice Walker, Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado, How to Write an Autobiographical Novel by Alexander Chee, and Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. (Yes, I’m a disaster pan and every book on that list is queer.)

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: .Um, Star Trek if I could just be in the fun part and not the dangerous part. Something lowkey and queer and with a bookstore like Alison Bechdel’s Dykes to Watch Out For. Night Vale if I didn’t have to be an intern at the radio station.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Silver Egoism

Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers, Idol AU

Pairing: Jimin x Reader ft. Jungkook

Warnings: Voyeurism, exhibitionism, dom!/top!Jimin, unprotected car sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses), choking, heartbreak, swearing/cussing, creampie, multiple rounds, male masturbation, phone sex (to some degree), overstimulation, (semi-)public sex (does car sex count as that?)

Summary: Within a band as close as a family there is no room for egoism, but one night the envy can no longer be suppressed as a rabbit in love unintentionally tries to outdo a silver fox.

Because when it comes to Love, the rules are different.

And Jealousy will do anything to gain the winning hand.

Masterlist

Friendships can unconsciously deepen by means of little gestures going beyond the realm of mere kindness and gifts to show a person holds more meaning to the other than initially thought. However, even then, the meaning can get lost in translation when the receiver does not reciprocate the emotions which are endeavoured to be shown.

As is the case with the obsidian leather jacket and Chanel necklace gifted to the girl met way back in high school sitting in the chair opposite Jungkook, happily chatting as an unrequited heart sits next to one that recently confessed his feelings for the woman doing the presents justice during a night of drinking white wine together. And despite being like brothers, hating the warm smiles and timidly roseate cheeks whenever Y/N comes over cannot be helped. Still, there is no merit in destroying a close bond on the grounds of unrequited love and henceforth a tongue toxically green with envy remains silent as it pretends to watch cat videos while actually observing the love of a lifetime through the lens of the camera.

Eventually, as the hour grows later and the morning brings the preparation for an interview, the chatter between friends regarded by a hushed third party dies down with the realization of having to make an early start and that going to bed would be the sensible course of action.

‘Alright, I should go.’ Y/N stretches like a feline, a habit likely picked up by hanging out with Yoongi, who is not any competition whatsoever for he acts more like a nagging older brother than a potential rival. And that is fortunate because regardless of having known him longer than yesterday, the musical genius remains a somewhat intimidating individual one should not mess with. ‘I’ll be watching the interview as soon as it comes out. Good luck, lads.’

‘If you want, I can drive you home.’ Jungkook rises simultaneously with the beautiful companion, pulling focused irises away from the screen towards reality. 

‘Thanks, but-’

‘I’ll drive her home.’ It comes out on a whim and more vicious than intended, redirecting all attention buzzing in the amicable living room still filled with the energy of the barbecue to celebrate the first good summer weather giving a clear navy and violet twilight sky adorned by sparkling stars. Unfortunately, the splendid circumstances had turned sour by the tropical monsoon that the wind whispered hints of while munching on shaved ice, pushing eight souls indoors. However, it also meant the gorgeous girl was, to much selfish relief, chased off the picnic bench just as Kook tried to sit her down on his lap in a supposedly casual fashion were it not for the clearly yet slowly hardening shape in tight denim jeans.

‘Jimin-ah, are you alright? Why are you upset?’ Taehyung’s brows furrow in sad confusion, always sensitive to the moods of anyone near the golden heart aware of the surroundings more than one might think. ‘Do you want to talk about it? I hate to see you angry.’

‘I’m fine, Tae Tae. Just tired.’ A gentle smile is fabricated with effort but has enough of an effect to make a sometimes too gullible mind believe it for the moment. Howbeit hesitantly so. ‘I’ll just take Y/N home and call it a night.’

‘Hyung, the last few performances have been hard on you so-’ The maknae speaks up again, undaunted by the sharp edge to unintended hostility, and proposes to kindly take on the role of the driver as intended.

But is repaid by the same too venomous irritated exhaustion. Withal, it is not physical tiredness but more so purely emotional. Sensitively sick, all emotions that have bottled up thanks to having to hide in order to save everything coming to a dangerous boiling point. ‘I said I’ll take her home, Kook.’

‘Chim, calm down. You’re clearly exhausted.’ The scent of tulips in spring has appeared between warring parties of which solely one is aware of the fight. The hand first covering a racing heart, the cause of the adrenaline easily mistakable for stress while it is truly the touch and her nearness, rising to swiftly comb through silver manes before coming to rest on the cheek. ‘I’ll be fine on my own and text once I’m home, alright?’

The sweet innocence of sparkling soothing eyes triggers perhaps the most idiotic and selfish decision ever, the storm of feelings no longer able to be contained. Not when being this close and every sense is overrun by the familiar scent of the never-changing perfume, the comforting touch whenever thinking all that is done or said or both will never be enough.

That I am not enough.

For her.

Notwithstanding, just tonight those lingering haunting doubts are put aside as lips unexpectedly crash into each other and a small palm grabs the behind that should have tried to sit on the lap it always does. There is no resistance nor pulling away, only the envelopment of the other cheek and a barely audible gasp dimmed by six-headed surprise filled by soft humoured baritone chuckles when not staring on in speechlessness.

And the broken heart of a long-time amazing now betrayed friend.

Alongside the cruel carelessness of not paying the pain any mind, focusing on making a lasting imprint on long-longed for lips that will ignite a hunger for more instead of on the world coming to a halt. 

An existence that slowly starts to turn again as mouths part, a soft murmur all that remains between them and possessive fingers entwining. ‘I’ll take you home. Let’s go.’

‘Um, yeah.’ The attempt of creating a lasting impression is clearly successful, Y/N rendered wordless and needing a second to gain composure before being dragged out the front door with an absent wave of goodbye. ‘Good luck, lads. Figh-’

And plopped down in the passenger seat of the shadowy onyx BMW 8 Series Convertible, proudly brought after completing the driving test and gaining a driver’s license. Swiftly, the belt is fastened and fashionable boots make way to the other side of the vehicle to do the same.

Soon, the engine roars to life, tires screeching over the driveway wrapped in the dusk and speeding towards the illuminated heart of the city. 

Towards the medium-sized luxury apartment given as a birthday present last year, simply due to being able to pay for it and wanting the beloved to live a good life. 

It has to be said, however, that the current home is a compromise because the original penthouse did not get accepted nor the option to share a roof because the gorgeous woman “did not want to keep me away from the guys and give me space”.

Yet, what was failed to be noticed was that the empty gap carved into an unrequited heart is solely filled by her presence. The reason for that is simple: it is not about money nor fame nor stage persona.

It is about an old friend. 

The dancer from Busan.

Chiminie.

‘Uhm, Jimin... about that kiss...’

‘I don’t regret it, especially not because it was in front of everyone.’ Palms tighten around the leather of the steering wheel, voice reduced to dangerous egotistical jealousy. Teeth grit at the memory of the barbecue, Kook trying to settle the wonderful girl at the window displaying a rapid blurry landscape on muscled thighs. 

Deform into a snarl when remembering the hardened shape in pants she would have sat against, feeling it. ‘In front of Jungkook.’

‘Jungkook? What does he have to do with this?’ Brows furrow in confusion, sincerely not making the infuriating connection between statements and acts. 

‘How can you not understand? After all the hints?’ With a loud noise as of nails scratching a blackboard a sharp turn towards the body of water flowing through the metropolitan is taken, stirring up gravel while descending to the river bank underneath the nearest metal monster of a bridge. 

Here, at the waterside reflecting the life of night owls, the engine is turned off before shifting to face the uncomprehending beautiful mistake with perhaps too sharp a tone. ‘I am in love with you! Fucking head over heels.’

‘Why? Why me?’

‘Because with you, I’m normal. With you, I’m okay.’ Frustrated shoulders relax as the volume of speech lowers to a normal conversational level instead of being barely shy of shouting. ‘With you, I’m just Park Jimin, a regular Busan boy.’

‘You’ve never been anyone else to me. Not a celebrity nor a distant person suddenly too good to hang out with normal people.’ A stern severity dims the well-meaning light in honest eyes caressing the cheek once more, the tenderness fading into flickering worry. ‘However, the guy I saw in the living room is somebody I don’t know. Who is he?’

‘He is the guy who cannot deal with seeing his best friend try his luck with the girl he actually loves. He’s the short-tempered unpredictable envious me.’

The me without you.

A persona who rises again by grabbing the wrist to place a wanting kiss on the inside, to take in the scent of young spring clad in leather. At war with the genuine ego forced to simmer beneath the surface and fighting a battle consisting of equal strength. ‘A guy I would never want you to date unless it’s me. No, even if it was me, you shouldn’t. Never let toxic people into your life because it is so short already.’

For a second, Y/N merely looks at double-edged melancholic lips resting on tulip skin. Were it possible, being frozen in this exact moment would likely be the best outcome of the story since this is all there shall ever be if the risked friendship continues to exist.

This is all we have.

All I have.

All that will ever be.

Although, the curiously withholding of something unspoken while continuing to solace a lonesome boy with love forms a hint towards a detail which might alter the seemingly hopeless train of thought. ‘Life’s indeed short, incredibly so. But, Jimin, because it is thus, it also makes every minute with a beloved more precious.’

‘What are you saying?’ Nothing in the attitude leaning forward gives away a straight explanation of the hidden meaning behind the wisdom likely picked up thanks to hanging out with Namjoon hyung. Again, it is fortunate the rapper is merely seen as an older brother instead of being real competition. 

‘We see each other very little, but each time we do I’m impossibly glad I have you back for a brief while. My best friend, my...’ The end of the sentence floats in the tense air, blushing cheeks refusing to speak the last part. 

‘Your what?’

But eventually do. 

‘My... crush.’

The two words spin around, warming up veins grown into arrogant ice and inflating pride to an indescribable extent. Gradually the meaning truly dawns, making both warring egos within mutually smile in relieved excited delight. 

The grabbed wrist is lead to regions below where the effects of the frustration still boil painfully though were able to be ignored until now, distracted by the suppressed jealous rage resulting in an outburst. The bottom lip is caught between teeth, not resisting another action of the selfish persona clearly elated by the confession and who has taken over demeanour entirely. Rather, it is perversely fascinated despite playing coy, more so when Y/N’s palm spreads out over hot denim like a blooming flower. ‘Chim, erm, heh, wh- what are you doing?’

I could ask you the same, pretending to be innocent and yet not hiding the need for me.

‘Get in the back, princess.’ Spurred on by the intimate contact essentially ignited by oppressed apparently futile rage, huskiness naturally creeps into the vocal manner of a chest slowly starting to struggle for breath. 

‘What?’ Keeping up the pretense or mayhaps sincerely confused by the rapid change in atmosphere, the gorgeous mistress manages to glance away from the point of fascination and take on the roll of the seeker of answers in dark irises regardless of knowing to find none.

‘Backseat. Now.’

Not until a somewhat clumsy way is made to the designated place after hearing the demanding growl and undoing the seatbelt, the hands of a best friend from a great harbour city coming to rest on hips at the end of an enchanting wake. 

Until those same hands creep up underneath the oversized shirt despicably lent from someone else before the chance to run up the stairs to retrieve something from the personal collection of clothing, the jacket discarded beforehand. Jungkook had the advantage by being situated on the ground floor of the dorm and literally sprinted to his room once a step into the kitchen was set.

Rip it to reveal the classy Victoria Secret bra underneath.

Another gift.

The meaning of which has only become clear now.

Stone-hued locks tilt to the side in amusement, loving the revelation that compliments the simple Chanel necklace perfectly. ‘Well, would you look at that. Wearing something I got you beneath the shirt of another.’ However, some of the delight dies into the snarling grave of fury at the thought of a charming bunny who outdid a silver fox. ‘Jungkook’s.’

‘He simply offered it so I wouldn’t catch a cold.’ An undignified huff reputes the selfish demeanour though the split second a pout forms tells of a pleasure in driving a boy with love to madness.

Into a persona. 

If that is how the game is going to be played, so be it. Anything to make Y/N happy, to create something of our own. Henceforth, husky lips hover over parted ones, teased and left wordless. ‘It sure looked like it, but we both know better. He wanted to see you wearing his shirt, would likely have slipped the scene to see you change into it.’

‘He isn’t like that.’

‘Fair enough, the latter doesn’t apply. Nevertheless, he wanted to confess to you tonight, make you his.’ A cruel smile unconsciously carves itself onto the mouth, thinking of the faltering young face in a disappointed vividly painted image. ‘What a surprise would it have been for him to discover my brand on you.’

‘You’re not so cruel as to actually mean that, are you?’ In spite of the contrasting message by palms slipping to the behind to bring heated bodies closer, big eyes shine with the plead for the current state of mind to not be truthful. Still, the squirming when beginning to move at a slow steady pace to fuel the heat below further while undoing the claps and tossing the bra aside hints at being entranced by the domination. Especially submissive to the tyranny when placing soft kisses from the chest up towards the ear. 

To whisper nothing but twilight sincerity. ‘Yes, tonight I am. I meant every word I said in the little periods of time we got to spend together and always will. Life’s too difficult already to complicate it further with lies.’

And show you anyone but myself.

Staying faithful to the thought, skinny jeans are contrastingly calmly tugged off before removing the pair of blushing consenting irises. They know the actual message behind the cryptic wisdom, acknowledging they are not the sole ones to be influenced by the wise leader of BTS. ‘I don’t want to lie to you.’

‘You don’t have, ah, to. Never h- had to.’ Affectionately, warm palms envelop the cheeks while the steady rhythm makes remaining in control of any sense of civilization much harder. And if not that, the barely chaste kisses surely are the cause alongside the bared skin revealed from discarded boxers achingly gliding over wet cotton. 

‘Can I ask you something?’ Enough self-control can be exerted to form an important question and register the significant meaning of the nod waiting for the inquiry. ‘Can I be selfish just a little while longer?’

‘Yes.’ The alluring warmth is revealed from beneath the underwear of which the hedonic scent sends the mind into a hazed frenzy and cuts patience short with its temptation. ‘Y- Yes, Jimin!’

Every inch adds to the scenic teary-eyed sight below on the backseat, nails digging into skin helping to colour the painting, guiding hips temporarily slowed down to adjust to the novel enrapturing heat. Exclusive to a harbour town boy with love, the guy beneath the flirty stage persona millions of voices encourage and fawn over.

But he solely does over one person.

The woman beautifully responding to every new strike as shades blend behind shut lashes and create fireworks with every meeting of mouths and stroke.

Something of our own.

This.

This perfect picture.

This is what we have.

Our ending.

And it wants to be shown to the one who almost shredded the canvas.

‘Wha- What are you d- doing? Jimin?’ Y/N looks sensually aghast laced with astonished disappointment at being left hanging somewhere along the way to euphoria despite the harmony of hues strengthened by muffled lewd sounds and physical guidance.

‘Just a minute, princess.’ A rapid mischievous kiss means to nullify the stun, which it does at the cost of creating a quizzical expression on a blushing face as the jeans thrown onto the ground are reached for. From the back pocket, fingers fish out the telephone and dial Jungkook’s number.

After going over thrice, the call is picked up. ‘Hyung? What’s up, why are you- oh.’

Oh, indeed, because neither of the two other parties fully realizes what is going on in the dazed mind under a sensational hypnosis of colourful touches until advances come freely again to resume a shared endeavour long longed for. Exploited at a more savage pace to compose compositions that could not exist with the former method, exacting bittersweet revenge on the steadily becoming breathless young rabbit hanging on the other side of the line.

Tethering.

Alone.

Whereas a Busan dancer and mistress are together on the verge of toppling over the edge.

The arrogant knowledge of this truth sounds through in the proudly jeering undertone of a clear voice leaving no room for mistake, wanting to create havoc to enjoy in schadenfreude. ‘Shit, Jungkook, she’s really tight. Takes cock so well. And her tits, so fucking nice and bouncy.’

And rejoice in the flushed cheeks of the woman the heart has been beating for since the first meeting during a student exchange in high school. Albeit with a degrading manner that expresses the frustration of not entirely coming first at the moment. ‘Do you like that, huh? Being such a slut that you’ve got a man masturbating to hearing me pound you hard and liking it? Spreading your legs just as soon as dick is offered to you?’

The response merely consists of desperate agreeing whines, the warm colours growing hotter as the unintelligible words tumble forth and also spur on the absent yet present boy in love turned sinful in audible fanciful solitude. ‘Fuck, hyung, keep talking like that to her. She sounds so pretty, so whiny.’

The original intent has been reached, egotistically claiming the girl who has been there since the rise of Bangtan while simultaneously feeling the backlash of the sting the chosen punishment for both men in need of chastisement. One for greed and one for attempting to prevent this canvas. ‘Shut up, she’s mine. This is all you’ll get of her, all you’ll hear of her. Just tonight. And I want you to know it’s me between her thighs, not you.’

However, the sneered rebuke is not cared about as the maknae is too lost to actually care, too enraptured by the painting that cannot be seen and close to catch up with the final strokes leading to elevated completion. Notwithstanding, as the sole consciousness same enough to be somewhat of a source of order in the corrupt chaos, the final ultimate state of bliss does not want to be reached before a warning is made very clear.

To hear the mutual claim on me from the panting wonderful enchantress lying on the ruined shirt of an equally as destroyed rival. Hence is why a palm wraps around the heated throat to close off any means of air, the last extreme move to exert dominance. ‘C’mon, tell him how much better I am. That you want me, not him. Say it.’

‘K- Kookie, he- he’s so good.’ The following dominantly rough stroke coaxes out a wonderful complacent high-pitched stream claiming the canvas and the initial painter despite the narrow access to air. ‘Better than you. Fuck! So, so much better. I want him, o- only him.’

After a few repeatings of the same scenario, irritating due to a third wheel yet marvellous thanks to the stunning union, both the defeated golden maknae and Y/N lose a grip on reality. 

However, since it happens simultaneously, the younger boy might use it to his advantage in daring yet intolerable later advances or to fancy a colourful storm together with her when not being there. Regardless of what the ulterior goal of the split second of breaking into blissful fragments might turn out to be, it forces the actually still selfishly desperate hand of a boy with love. ‘And yet you cream all over me just as Jungkook cums. Looks like my princess doesn’t know how to show respect and loyalty.’

But anything can be taught if using the appropriate manner, thus hardening the strokes until screaming alabaster flows freely and ever onward without stopping.

Action.

Reaction.

Result. 

‘My name, Y/N. Scream my name.’ The slightly slackened hold on the throat forcefully strengthens again, mirroring the reinvigorated power pinning an otherwise wild waist down. ‘Scream my fucking name. Over. And. Over.’

Every word of the last command is accentuated by a sharp advance establishing the desired effect, tuning out almost completely the agonized though satisfied moans of bunny nerves being driven into overdrive. Notwithstanding, instead of allowing them to invoke another euphoria shared with the woman belonging to another, the call is ended just to childishly leave Jungkook hanging dry. ‘Keep calling, babe. He won’t get to hear you again.’

One final stroke triggers the primal second floating in ignorant bliss together with the claimed fleeting soul basking in the dusk enlightened by night owls.

A moment of us. 

Slowly and carefully, arms shivering with the blast of shades which are slowly erased lower and meet a warm welcoming pair lovingly enveloping dishevelled grey locks. The soft cheek against which a palm having calmed down in demeanour, no longer suffocating, comes to rest leans into the touch, breathless but sighing in gladness.

‘Did... did you like it? I’m sorry I involved Kook into this, but I couldn’t think clearly. I didn’t want him to confess because I was afraid I’d lose you and that, well, resulted in the self-centred man you’ve been seeing this entire night.’ The confession bordering on a futile waterfall going around in circles manages to be stopped at a good point, preventing speech from crossing the line and falling into a spiral. Instead, the dewy hot throat scented by spring tulips is nuzzled while enjoying the perfume.

‘Had it been anyone else, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed it as much as I did. So, yes, I really liked it. Really, really liked it.’ A short moment filled with happy giggles lifts a grand part of the heaviness of heart caused by egoism, delighted to no extent upon hearing the sincere amused yet meaningful tone in Y/N’s voice. ‘And before you ask, no matter who the persona is you happen to be in the moment, I still like you.’

‘Even when I’m an arrogant selfish bastard ruining the hopes of his best friend?’

‘Don’t think of it that way, Chim. It’s the choice I made and I have chosen what is right for me. For what I have wanted for the longest time.’

‘I have as well. Wanted this, that is. Even when the company told me I couldn’t.’ A shake of the head dismisses the melancholic thought of the manager’s voice sternly renouncing dating as breathing becomes a tad shallow with grief. ‘This is what’s been hurting me, not being with you. The person who makes me love myself.’

‘Is it selfish then?’

‘No?’ Despite the underlying suggestion, the response is doubtful because the ego overrun by the sensual drive to claim wanted the same but exerted its will in an egotistical manner at the cost of another.

‘No. No, it isn’t. We finally have what we have wanted all along. I don’t want Jungkook and you don’t want somebody else. We’re happy and happiness is never selfish.’ The kiss on the forehead is soothing, assuring of the determined righteousness of the statement and solacing in the request that follows in its wake. ‘Stay over tonight. It’s been too long.’

‘Indeed, too long.’

Too long for true self-love to return.

To have kept it waiting at the door of the familiar apartment.

In empty arms finally embracing the one they should.

Just like the stars in the navy sky transforming into dusky black.

Waiting.

For us. 

[markswoman]

competition | hrj

there were three things that needed to change. first, huang renjun needed shitty vision again. two, he needed to go back to being shorter than you. three, he needed to stop trying so hard to compete.

pairing | slytherin!renjun x ravenclaw!reader | enemies to lovers!au | 5.1k

warning: profanity, sex jokes, mild violence

an: happy birthday @renjunite i hope all your wishes come true!! i love you so much and would give you the world ♡

At the age of fourteen, you met Huang Renjun as the boy tripped and fell in the aisle of the train as he accidentally got hit with the trolley. Not that it was your problem, however. You weren’t the one that had been run flat, so you minded your own business and went to show off the new magical watch your father had gotten you over the summer. The last thing on his mind was some petty boy who couldn’t see what was in front of him. An imbecile, he was, and that’s how you saw him. To your surprise, however, you found that Renjun was a transfer from another school for magical beings located in Scotland. Then, after he placed in Slytherin, he left you to wonder if the hat had caught mad cow disease or anything of the sort that might’ve caused its judgment to go awry. But then you shrugged. It wasn’t any of your business at all to even pay attention to an insignificant boy, who he later found out was a halfblood, son of two well-known professors in the magical arts. That must have also been a mistake, too. The kid didn’t seem like the type to be born into an intellectual family—according to you. – Things changed gradually over the years to a point where you were tossing and turning late at night because of him. Who the hell gave Huang Renjun permission to get praised? It was always you who were praised for your work, but now the latter was stealing it like he was stealing the eyes of everyone around them! You would sometimes mutter to yourself, cursing the bastard who fixed Renjun’s vision, ridding the boy of his thick black rimmed glasses. And then you’d curse the witch who was responsible for his polishing looks, because now, Huang Renjun looked like some super model out of a muggle mag.

Being in Ravenclaw, you took pride in being smart, top wizard in all your classes, but by the time seventh year came, your throne of glory was being threatened by the very kid who was once almost crushed by a trolley. – “You all should’ve studied harder, because it seems like Renjun was the only one who spent time doing so.” It was so tempting for you to flick your wand and have your fat eighty-nine marks gone from your sight. Almost willingly, you wished that Renjun would turn around and look back at you. For what reason? You didn't know. You just wanted a reason to hate the guy even more than you already did because that’s how the nature of things were. After class ended, you put all your things in your bag and stood behind the crowd with your arms crossed, waiting for everyone to get out. Not much to your surprise, Renjun was right behind you. “So, what’d you get?” “None of your business,” you dismissed quickly, chin raised in the air. Noticing how a few kids turned their heads towards them, you scowled, frightening them and their attention away. “I did ask if you wanted help studying,” Renjun said, shrugging off the cold attitude he was being given. “You told me no. If I remember correctly, you said, ‘Go to hell, like I’d ever want your help!’ and I don’t forget things very easily.” “Amazing! Then you’ll remember this!” You exclaimed as you finally reached the exit. Then you spun around flipping your middle finger in front of Renjun’s face before quickly merging in the busy hall. “Bye.” Admiring eyes were on you as you walked past several students. Grinning, you flipped your hair casually, running your slim fingers through it for effect. As much as you liked being above everyone in intellect, you also lathered yourself in their admiration. In fact, it was so— Then he heard the Slytherin’s name. Stopping in his track, you flipped his head around and saw the Slytherin shyly wave at the girls that were just admiring him. Oh, those wenches were never loyal anyway. Huffing, you took a left, heading to the library. – There were three things that needed to change. First, Huang Renjun needed shitty vision again. Two, he needed to go back to being shorter than you. Three, he needed to stop trying so hard to compete. At first, you didn’t think too much about it. So what if the Slytherin got a few higher marks than you? It was just luck anyways. Not everyone in Slytherin was that smart; this you knew from your experience of beating them time and time again on exams. Renjun shouldn’t have been an exception. But he was. And the minute he started appearing on your radar, it was clear to the Ravenclaw that the latter had an ulterior motive, and that was to dethrone you of your reputation. – “Baneberry Potion. Consists of ten Baneberry berries…fifteen drops of snake venom…a drop of…Fuck.” Resting your head on your book, you groaned. What time was it? It seemed like it was past midnight already, but you knew that wasn’t possible unless the librarian closed the establishment with you still inside. If that were ever the case, you could just file a claim against the woman and have the ministry fire her. Easy. Simple. Nothing like studying. Lazily lifting your head again, you flipped the page and closed your eyes, trying to recall the formulas and the history behind it all. You were almost sure you were muttering sluggishly through it. However, it was even difficult for you to hear yourself. “Drought of Living Death… Worm wood…a root of a…as…aspho—” “Asphodel.” Would you feel anything if you just inflicted the Avada Kedavra curse on yourself? Curiosity did kill the cat, but you weren’t about to die just yet. That would’ve meant letting Renjun win the silent war. Inhaling sharply to yourself, you mustered the strength to smile very coldly at the Slytherin who was leaning against the shelf with his arms crossed and head cocked at you. Having him stand in that position made you slightly irritated. What gave him the right to look like that? Or to look at you like that? It almost looked like he was staring at you with some type of admiration sparkling in his eyes… Disgusting. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, Huang?” “Maybe. Isn’t it past yours?” “Yes, but let’s just say, like my house’s mascot, I’m slightly nocturnal.” Ruffling your hair, you asked, “What’re you doing here?” “Studying. Jaemin and Jisung wouldn’t keep quiet in the common room, so I had to come here.” "Then how unfortunate of you to randomly stumble in my corner. Now, do you mind?” Frowning, Renjun made no move to take the hint and leave. Instead, he stayed as he was. “If you’re studying for the Potions exam next Friday, I can help.” “I’m fine, Slytherin. You can disappear like your snaggletooth.” Unamused, Renjun walked over and closed the book in front of the Ravenclaw, taking it into his possession and placing it aside. “I can almost feel the love from here,” he said, smiling almost sarcastically as he leaned in, bursting your comfort bubble. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “You don’t even have that snaggletooth. Since you fixed it with those things called…called, you know. Braces, or something. Now your mouth looks fine.” “Doesn’t it? I could’ve gotten it fixed through magic, but mother insisted I do it the muggle way so our neighbors wouldn’t be so suspicious. And for your information, braces fix teeth not mouths” For the love of all things good, why were they talking about teeth? Specifically Renjun’s? Disregarding the fact that they were perfect—as stated—and they did make him more attractive than you would’ve liked… “You’re annoying me, Huang,” you said, rising from your head and surprising the Slytherin. “I guess I’ll go study back in the Ravenclaw common room.” “Why don’t you ever accept my help?” The Slytherin said, both hands on the table.

“Simple.” Shrugging, you picked up your book. “I see you as competition, not as a friend. Why would I accept help from an enemy.” “But I’m not your enemy.” Rubbing his forehead, Renjun groaned. “Is this because I get higher marks than you?” “Did it really just hit you right now?” “Okay, I admit it that I do like beating you—” Ha! So you weren’t crazy and overly paranoid! You were internally celebrating the fact that you were right when all your friends told you that you were just an overly obsessive— “It’s really not hard to score higher than you either.” Okay. The victory celebration died a little bit. What? “And sometimes, I purposely do bad because you make that face when you think you do good and you look so cu—” Scratch everything. You were about to thrust your book out the castle, shattering historic windows while at it. You wanted to know when those times were—the times when Renjun let you score higher. Then you wanted to strangle the Slytherin for pitying so much that he’d ever do such a thing! But was it pity? Of course it was pity! What the hell were you? A charity case? For heaven's sake, someone might accuse you of cheating, and like hell you’d let that happen. You exploded, but because they were in the library, you only exploded a little bit, which meant you settled to gripping your book and smacking the Slytherin on the head. “No,” you said sternly. “The next time you let me score higher than you on purpose and I find out about it, I’ll kill you. I mean it.” “That hurt.” Touching his head, Renjun winced. “Christ, you hit hard.” “You’re lucky that wasn’t my fist.” “Oh, no. Your tiny fists. Ahhh….” Snorting, Renjun broke out into a chuckle. “Honestly, you’re very funny and cute even when you don’t try.” The only time when you wanted to burst into flames was when someone you liked when you were twelve rejected you in front of your friends. But here was Renjun saying weird things, and oddly enough, you wanted to be engulfed in flames again. “If this is some ploy to get me off track for my exams, you’re wasting your time,” you said confidently, tucking your book under your arm again, still warm with the heat of Renjun’s head. “I’m leaving. Go entertain Jaemin or something.”

You walked down the aisle, heading to the main exit, but was positive the latter was following after. “Hey.” Don’t answer him. It’s not worth it— “Go out with me.” Turning around wasn’t the best idea you ever had. Renjun with his hands in his front pockets was a sight that a lot of students fell for, and it was to no surprise why. “Nice joke. Why don’t you go share it with that elf friend of yours and his stubby dwarf.” “First of all, that’s not nice,” Renjun replied, brows raised. “Sicheng and his girlfriend are a lovely pair. Second, it wasn’t a joke.” “Third, I think you must’ve been mistaken. See here, I don’t like you,” you said slowly, enunciating each word. “You’re a cocky, pity giving, insulting transfer who seems to enjoy making me mad every step of the way.” Groaning, Renjun threw his head back. “I transferred here three years ago, and ever since then, you’ve been more of a villain than what you’re trying to make me sound like. And while we’re on the subject, I wanted to ask you—” Putting a hand up in the air, you signaled him to stop. “Goodnight, Huang.” “I mean it. Will you—” “No, I will not.” However, before you could turn around, Renjun stepped quickly towards you, rendering you dazed with a kiss on the lips. Shocked, you stumbled back, almost dropping your book, but the latter followed. “I did not give you permission to do that!” God, were you stuttering? You couldn’t tell and that was a freakishly bad sign. Did you even sound like yourself? “Why do you hate me?” Focus. What’d he just say? Fuck, your head was still scrambling. “I hate you because you’re you,” you sputtered without a second thought. “You steal the spotlight from me, like what the hell! I used to be every teacher’s favorite, and you just come from…from wherever and—” “Scotland.” “Yeah, okay, Scotland and ever since then it hasn’t been the same. Then you just flaunt your scores in front of me like oh-ha-ha and all I want to do is hit you, but I can’t because I’ve already gotten like ten detentions this year and I’m tired of spending my weekends with crusty professors instead of going to Hogsmeade!” Sighing, Renjun put his hands on his hips, displacing his robes. “Well, you know what I’m tired of? I’m kind of tired of spending hours and hours just studying so I can do better than you when all I’ve been wanting lately is just you in particular, you know that?” “No, and I’d rather not, thanks.” “But it gets you to notice me.” Oh, there were a lot of other things that made you notice him, but you weren’t about to admit anything. “Let’s make a bet.” Interested, you smiled. If there was anything your father taught you, it was to how to gamble, and you were very confident in your betting skills. “I’m listening.” “Score higher than me on two out of three exams. Potions, Herbology, Alchemy. If I mark higher on two, maybe even all three, you have to take me seriously and think about dating me. If you get higher marks, then I’ll leave you alone and we can pretend I never said anything. ” “That’s not fair. You’re number one in Potions.” “But you’re pretty good at Alchemy.” Drawing your lips together, you frowned. “Change Herbology to Arithmancy. It’s unpredictable in that class between you and I. The test is two weeks from now.” “You want me to wait two weeks for you?” “You waited three years, Slytherin. You can wait for two more weeks.” Realizing what you just said, you became flustered. “Not to say that once you’re done waiting, you’ll have me! I’m just saying, you have to wait and see, but fat chance you’ll ever see at all since–” “I understood you the first time, baby.” Who the hell was he calling baby? And why the fuck did you suddenly feel hot in the face. “Okay, well, I’m done talking to you. Bye.” As you walked away, you heard Renjun call out, “No cheating.” “Like I’d ever.” –

You lied but was that really surprising? Ravenclaws were clever, but not always in the most honest way. Shrugging, you walked up the spiraling stairs and stood in front of Slytherin’s door, turning the knob, only to be surprised by a deep, rumbling voice asking you a riddle. “What lies between two planes of existence?” Blinking, you frowned at the knob. Airplanes? Geometric planes? What the fuck was the door talking about? Stepping back, you crossed your arms, looking around to see if anyone was creeping up behind you. Two planes��Two planes… Rubbing your eyes, you groaned. You had no time to think too hard or much about it. Any minute, some Slytherin could make an appearance despite the fact that it was time for their afternoon meal. Thinking hard, you bit your lip as you went through all the possible answers, then suddenly, you remembered Montague, long gone and graduated, but hadn’t he been the poor fellow shoved inside the Vanishing Cabinet and was sent to— “Nothing… There’s nothing there, but limbo. A plane between two planes is where nothing exists, so nothing lies there…At all.” To your ego and pride, you were ecstatic to see that the door opened. Grinning, you quickly let yourself in and was surprised at how airy the common room was. And, of course, there was a bookshelf. There had to be books in a wizardry school. Snorting, you decided to take a fifty-fifty chance and turn to the right, heading to what you hoped was the boys’ dormitory. – Finding Renjun’s bed seemed more of a trouble than you thought it’d be considering everyone’s space seemed to look the same with all the notes and books lying around. Quickly, you flipped through a few books on each bed, checking the names. Eventually, you found the Slytherin’s little corner after finding his books neatly stacked near a perfectly made bed. Carefully placing one book after another off to the side, you stopped when you found the Potions textbook you were looking for. Quickly turning to a bookmarked page, you were pleasantly surprised to find all the notes jotted down on the side, some even on key details you haven’t  even thought of. For a moment, you felt jealous, but then decided to take advantage of the opportunity. Hastily, you scanned the page, reading over the notes a few times until you were satisfied with your memory. Then, taking a step back, you pointed your wand at the book and unmercilessly said, “Incendio.” – Renjun's notes were far more useful than you primarily thought. The Potions test was something you could've done with a hand tied behind your back. Really. And when you looked up, you smirked at the struggling Slytherin who became so frustrated that he pulled his tie to become more loose. There were people distracted by the sight, but you who didn’t look at him with attraction like the others did. You had a bet to win, despite your unfair start, but that didn’t matter. Your head needed to be in the game and eyes off the Slytherin’s collarbones. Off. When time was up and the only people who actually finished successfully were you and a few others (though you liked to think that you executed the concoction more perfectly than they), other students stared at them in awe and jealousy and you drank in all their attention, smirking at everyone, intensifying your stare when your eyes met with Renjun’s.

Not to go on without any consequences, you walked a little slower, expecting to be drawn to the side and you were right. Hand on your arm, you were pulled from behind and, without resistance, you scoffed as Renjun walked them to an isolated corner and pressed you against the harsh wall. “What happened to my textbook?” “Hell if I know whatever happened to your stupid book,” you responded, batting your eyelashes. “Maybe you lost it?” “I never lose anything.” “Never say never.” Grinning, you patted the latter on your right cheek. “Because you might just have to get used to it.” Laughing, Renjun rolled his eyes before returning the gesture all the same, patting you on the cheek as well as it being accompanied by a smirk. “We’ll see. What’s next?” Turning your head, you rejected the touch five seconds in. Renjun’s hand was warm. Ew. “Alchemy.” “Then study up.” “No, you.” It was a childish thing to say, but you couldn’t think of anything better to say. “God damn it. I’m leaving.” Pushing against Renjun (it was quite the experience touching him), you smiled before immediately dropping your lips the minute you turned around. The only thing that should be on your mind are numbers and signs, and lots of it. At least, enough to maybe, somehow, predict something in the future. But you felt a little cocky since you ultimately had a feeling on what the future was already. – You cheated the first time, felt some satisfaction, but was confident enough to take the Alchemy exam without sabotaging Renjun’s belongings. However, you soon came to the realization, that, perhaps, you should’ve burned the Slytherin’s alchemy books and other belongings as well. For the second time in two weeks, you felt your face burning with your back against yet another wall in an isolated hall. “Thanks for not burning my textbooks this time.” Renjun grinned, cocking his head. “I really appreciate that you didn’t cheat on this exam.” Letting out a shrill laugh, you put a hand on your waist. “I didn’t burn your stupid book, Huang.” “Mhm.” Wiggling his finger in front of the Ravenclaw’s face, Renjun showed him that perfect row of teeth, making you kind of angry at the fact that he didn’t need those stupid braces anymore. “One and one. Last one’s the tie breaker. Study your numbers, love. Arithmancy is mine and then, you.” Smiling platonically, you raised your brows. “I think you’re confusing your pathetic dreams with reality.” Snorting, Renjun put a hand on the wall, closing in on the unfrightened (just a little bit) Ravenclaw. “Really? We’ll see.” “Huang Renjun, your face is uncomfortable to be in front of.” “Then just close your eyes.” Unamused, you ducked under the Slytherin’s arm and sidestepped him. “I’d rather not let myself be left unguarded for any lip attack, thanks. Bye.” Then you were off, thinking about things other than lips. – There was too much riding on the Arithmancy test to leave it all up to chance and fate. Going back to the Slytherin dormitory, you answered the same riddle and strode systematically with a purpose as you entered the boys’ dormitory. It seemed, however, that Renjun had learned his lesson the first time and hid his textbooks and notes. Even when you pulled out your wand and repeatedly said, “Accio Arithmancy book” or “Accio Huang Renjun’s notes”, nothing came about and it almost made you want to snap your wand in two. Just as you gave up, you spun around on your heel only to see Renjun leaning against the dorm’s door frame. “I don’t think you’re allowed in here, baby.” “Whatever.” You weren’t in the mood. It didn’t even bother you anymore that you were caught since you didn’t have the chance to find and destroy your objectives which were the books and notes taken. Walking over, you pushed Renjun aside and started to make your way out the Slytherin house. “Nice charm. What’d you use…” From behind you, Renjun answered, “I’m surprised you don’t know. Aren't you supposed to be smart?" "I am. So I guess I'll have to beat you the old fashion way." "Hold on, angel. Stop walking." Shockingly, you did stop, surprised at the way your knees buckled. "What?" You said, turning your head. "Since you cheated the first time, don't you think we shouldn't count that particular exam?" There he went. Trying to pry yet another win from your hands, but you weren’t about to uncoil just yet. “Let’s not play stupid, Renjun. You studied off one of your friends, right?” Renjun said nothing. “So regardless, you let me have it the first time, and it still would’ve been the same result regardless of whether or not I came in here to burn a book or two.” Hands on waist, Renjun let out a sigh. “Fine. Okay, I gave you the advantage but only because I knew you’d do well in Alchemy without batting an eye, so I spent most of my time studying that. But for Arithmancy, you and I have to do this exam fair and square.” “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you replied, grinning. “What’s sweeter than a fair victory?” “Us being together, obviously,” Renjun said without missing a beat. Before you could stutter out anything incoherent, the Slytherin stepped up and put his hand on your back, guiding you to the entrance door. “You have four days. Use them wisely.”

– “Jaemin!” Jumping, the Slytherin looked up and saw the menacing grin on your face. “Yes?” “You have access to Professor Kim’s potions supply closet, right?” Nodding, Jaemin confirmed. “I do. Why?” “I’m going to need you to get me some things.” “Why do you need these things?” As the two pressed around multiple bottles and jars, you shrugged. “I’m trying to save my ass in the most literal sense.” – There were so many books upon books that it looked like a book orgy, but you had no time to think about orgies or sex or anything in particular that had to do with the naughty things in life. You needed to focus, and you were about to go crazy after turning down an invite to roam the castle and cause some trouble with your friends. “I think you were sorted in the wrong house.” “Maybe, deep inside, you’re a Slytherin with all that ambition to beat Renjun.” They were all wrong and it made you mad as you scrawled your notes heavily in your books. If you didn’t study, then you’d have a Slytherin in you, and purely by consent because what moron wouldn’t open up their chamber of secrets if Renjun wanted to slide his Basilisk in there somewhere? Fuck.

You just scribbled nonsense about Basilisks in a book about numerology. Groaning, you flicked your wand, undoing the mistake. Then you grabbed your quill and continued jotting down notes on the theory of numerology before looking over past homework parchments. After studying for an hour, you gave yourself a break, taking the ingredients you stole from Professor Kim’s supply closet and made your way up the prefects’ bathroom, rarely used and often barren. Then, in a stall, you began mixing and stirring your backup plan to ensure that you’d win; the Befuddlement Draught. – Game day, game face. You put a defector charm on yourself so the Befuddlement Draught wouldn’t affect you. The potion made whoever took it confused and reckless, and that was exactly what you wanted to do to Huang Renjun just minutes before the test. Of course, you couldn’t offer him a tainted drink. That’d seem suspicious, but from experience, you did know that the Slytherin wasn’t so opposed to kissing, so you decided to take one for the team, which basically consisted of yourself, so you were essentially doing it for yourself. Taking a sip of the potion, you made sure to hold just enough of it on your tongue to last while you made your way over to Renjun’s desk. Looking up at you, the Slytherin raised his brow. “This is a surprise.” You held the urge to roll your eyes as you leaned down and kissed the boy on the lips. The second phase of the mission was to get the latter to open his mouth, but Renjun had done so willingly. In fact, his tongue entered the your mouth without you having to do anything. It wasn’t going as you had planned, but it wasn’t bad either. Unconsciously, however, in the midst of taking one for the “team”, you started to kiss back until you realized you were in a classroom and kids were beginning to pour in and the teacher was about to come through her office door and– Separating, you took a step back, flustered and red. Renjun, however, cocked his head, showcasing a wide and proud grin. “Anything else you got for me?” A kick in the balls? A slap on the face? You didn’t know what to do because you were so stalled that you just turned around, consoling yourself that it’d all be worth it when the potion kicked in. –

But it never did. At least, it didn’t look like it twenty minutes into the test, which made you worried that you probably kissed Renjun (and liked it) for no purpose at all. Regardless, you focused on the text in front of you. If it didn’t work, then fine. You’d have to rely on your own skill even if your lips were still tingling, which was annoying. Really annoying. God damn it. – The time of judgement came the next day when their grades were posted on the classroom wall for all to see, and you had to push your way to the front. “Are you kidding me!?” Stomping from the rest of the students, you made a beeline to Renjun, who hadn’t bothered to look at the paper because all he needed to do was look at your face and just know that he scored higher. “Okay, you cheated!” It was a fair accusation. Kind of hypocritical, but you didn’t care. “How did I cheat, baby?” Renjun challenged. You cheated when you didn’t react to the potion I gave you? Could you say that? Technically, not falling into one’s scheme of cheating doesn’t make the almost -victim a cheater… “I don’t know, but you did somehow.” “Says the person who tried giving me Befuddlement Draught through a kiss?” Laughing, Renjun stood up. “Not to say I didn’t enjoy that one.” “You’re unbelievable!” How the hell did he know that? You frowned. “Stop accusing me of things, Slytherin.” “So, what? You kissed me just to kiss me? Cause I’ll take that excuse any day.” Fuck. You crossed your arms. “It doesn’t matter. None of these exams were fair so the bet’s off.” “You can’t just call something off because it didn’t go your way, love.” Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “Whatever. I lost. There, boohoo for me. Yay for you. Haha.” “Actually, no.” Gently, Renjun turned your face up towards him. “See, if you look at it this way, you already won me from the start.” “I don’t want you.” The frown on your face started wobbling and all you could wonder about was what the hell was wrong with your body functions. “Are you sure about that?” Renjun’s face was getting closer and gravity seemed to think it was opposite day because you felt compelled to move up instead of down to dodge him. “I’m pretty sure, Huang, now can you just–” “Absolutely positive?” Was your mouth getting super chapped? You licked your lips, but they were dry again. What the fuck. “Yes, yes, I’m positive! I swear to god, I–” How many times have they kissed before? You didn’t know. You lost count, which was ironic because they were kissing in a room that was all about numbers and had ten pairs of eyes watching them. It wasn’t as though Renjun had you gripped so you couldn’t move away, too. For one reason or another, you couldn’t move anything but your mouth, and for once, that was a good thing. – “Alright. How’d you know about the Draught.” “I saw Jaemin with you one night. Got a little jealous so I cornered him nicely somewhere and asked some questions.” “Well, for all you know, we really could’ve been doing something that night. A little action in a closet never hurt anyone.” “I’d like to test that out for myself.” “Test it? Fine. Whatever. When and where.” “Now.” And then they ditched a fifty-five minute lecture on numerology because, after discussing it over several kisses in the library, you both agreed you didn’t give a rat’s ass about numbers except that one plus one equals two, and two was a perfectly fair and even number.

[julianpistris-archive]

&&who: Julian Pistris, Michael Pistris &&where: pistris ports | warehouse #3 &&what: The day Michael Died...

One hour until..

The air was freezing cold for a March evening, tendrils of frost painting each window in the warehouse where Julian sat. A cigarette dangled out of the corner of his mouth, anxious fingers typing away on his phone. Within the hour, you know what to do. No kill shots. Footsteps immediately drew his attention, the ever so familiar silhouette of his older brother coming into view. Michael, the golden boy. The person who stood like an immovable fortress between Julian and the Pistris crown. The person who had an unsuspecting target painted on his back by his own brother. “Jules- put a jacket on you're going to die from hypothermia.” A laugh left his lips before he took a seat across from his younger sibling. They’d always been so different: blond hair and blue eyes shone like summer sun and sky in the eldest, just like their father while Julian had inherited his mother’s dark features. “Eh, if it comes to that at least I’ll look good in my casket. I like the cold.” One had a promising future: head of the family who masqueraded as a philanthropist by day and skilled tactician by night. The kingdom keys had been placed in Michael’s palm, and god damn had he rose to the occasion. Behind that bright light was Julian, enveloped in addiction and chaos like death himself. How could anyone ever trust a man like that to lead? His father certainly didn’t.

“I love you but you really come off as a crazy person sometimes..” It was a rare thing that both brothers were on watch at the same time. Usually, Julian had been given some low level task, shitty hours included, where responsibility wasn’t required. The kind of work that made any sane person want to blow their brains out…which meant it was perfect for the ‘psychopathic Pistris’. This time around, however, he’d made some powerful friends in the Vittori that pulled the strings. Warehouse three quickly became the stage, with a succession of power serving as the show. All that was needed was a sacrifice. “Crazy? I prefer… creative.” Julian smirked as he looked Michael over. “Well would you look at us, we get to bond tonight.” It was a sight for sore eyes. There weren’t many people that Julian considered himself close to. He could name a list of maybe three people: Nic, Adem, and curiously enough, Michael. Julian had always wanted to hate him, hate everything he was and stood for… but couldn’t bring himself to do it. How many countless times had he’d stood up for him? Pulled him out of a drugged out haze or kept a bullet from ripping through his skin? “God have mercy on us all.” The complications came in when Francisco Pistris joined the conversation. Fucking bastard. Parental relationships were described as critical to creating a person, the formative years yearning for love and acceptance… though Julian had gotten little more than ash. It wasn’t Michael’s fault at all, but as Julian saw it, he was apart of the problem. All of their cards had been thrown behind him, while the other was left to drown in the St. Lawrence. And when hatred towards his father ran that deep, what better way was there to cause the old man pain than take away his favorite thing in the world? Michael was unfortunate collateral in the whole situation. His blood would fall on the neglect Julian had grown to know...

Twenty minutes until…

“I’ll never forget it, you just froze,I had to pick you up and run off. Mrs. Kosi was fuming- but I didn’t think she was ever going to say anything to dad.” There weren’t many happy memories that floated around in Julian’s childhood, the few that did were blurred by a haze of powder or lost until recounted. “You kept on saying that we were going to get in trouble until I told you to shut up and enjoy the day off of school…” But this one, this one Julian kept close to his cold heart. He’d been in sixth grade, while Michael was a sophomore. It was the day after the Pistris household had celebrated his birthday, which consisted of a nod from his father and a poor attempt at a dinner from his mother.  Food sitting on their table, Julian’s father abruptly stood up and said he had more important business to deal with than a child’s birthday. Waste of time. The words floated around in Julian’s mind, and the next day at school he’d expected nothing exciting to happen. Except it wasn’t the case. There was Michael, standing in his middle school’s hallway, we’re breaking you out of here leaving his lips before the two brothers bolted for the door. A day of hooky, the family Mercedes serving as a getaway car for a whatever havoc ensued after. Scaling Mont-Royal, shooting off fireworks and then running away from the park guards. It all culminated in the two finding themselves at the family ports, the very same warehouse they sat in now. Except there was a cake with the words Happy Birthday Julian inscribed on it, and a gift waiting to be unwrapped. The best birthday he could’ve ever hoped for, given to him by his older brother. “Almost burned your eyebrows off at the park-” Laughs echoed throughout the empty space, Julian grinning before his eyes fell to the lit up phone screen. Expect us soon.

Now…

Bullets ripped through the warehouse, Julian catching the sight of the assailants as he ducked behind a box. His assailants gathered together for one cause: rebirth and revenge. “Jules-” Just as he heard his name leave his brother's lips, dark eyes watched as the man crumpled to the floor in agony. With the thud of his body against the concrete, the gunshots stopped. An eerie quiet fell throughout the room, was this the sound that titans died to? No screams, no war cries, just silence.  Instinctively he made his way to his brother’s side, hands wrapping around him while lifting his head up. “Jules…” A dark red stain was forming on Michael’s shirt, the wound deep but survivable if given the right care. “Hey it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re going to be okay.” The words left his lips as Julian looked around throughout the warehouse. It was empty, just like the Vittori had promised. Now, at his end, was a single bullet, the gun burning against his hand. “I called for help on the radio, you’re going to be okay.” Brothers. Given any other circumstance, given any other family, the bond would be inseparable. And it was… but enough for Julian to let it throw him in the shadows? Enough to let his father live with the punishment he’d experienced for years? Julian’s eyes looked at Michael’s, blue against black as he spoke. “We’re going to be home soon, everything is going to be fine.” He smiled, fingers gently curving around the base of his gun. “I’m sorry- I didn’t see it coming. Are you okay?” Concern colored Michael’s voice before Julian let out a breath. “Never been better.” The gun went off.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Emotional abuse in platonic relationships (long)

My tumblr is usually my escapism fun zone, but it’s time for a quick serious talk.

I've been in a few emotionally abusive platonic relationships and was always frustrated that nearly every help article I read online was written primarily for cis women in a hetero, romantic relationship. Most guides talked about physical violence, sex, and a whole slew of other circumstances I did not experience.

Unfortunately, emotional abusive is not limited just to romantic relationships. Platonic relationships, especially long-term or otherwise intense ones (for example, those that spawn in fandom and minority spaces), can be just as difficult to recognize, confront, and escape.

I thought it might be helpful to outline patterns of abuse I have experienced in a platonic relationship with someone of the same gender. These abuse tactics are forms of control and most are intended to isolate and break down the victim. While it’s easy to write off behaviors individually, together, they form destructive and very deliberate patterns.

More below the cut. I’ve sat on this article for about 3 years to help distance myself from these bad friendships and make sure it wasn’t just me lashing out in the moment. Some of this content may be triggering for emotional and sexual abuse and transphobia.

Note: I'm writing this from the perspective of a trans man. These examples and quotes (some paraphrased) are real things told to me by various abusers. While the examples are very specific to me in some cases, the overall behavior is not.

1. Abusers carefully monitor and audit their victim's activity. Abusers constantly inject themselves into their victim's life and interrogate their victim when they're not included in something. 

Examples:

·         "I saw you check-in at the movies last night, why didn't you invite me?"

·         "I can't believe you took your mom to the new restaurant I've been wanting to go to."

·         "You never invite me to events with your grade school friends when they are in town."

2.  Abusers follow their victims into places they'd otherwise not have an interest, in order to stalk and exert control. Example:

·         Be wary of abusers who only start using social media when you do, especially if they only follow you and primarily vague-blog criticism and threats

3.  Abusers criticize their victim for not being supportive enough, even when the victim is actively supporting them. Example:

·         ::while hanging out together:: "You never hang out with me."

4.  Abusers constantly keep score... but only when it's in their favor. Example:

·         When I was unemployed and he was taking home more in a week than I could scrape together in a few months: “You should buy me this more expensive birthday present because you owe for me gas to the movies from a few months ago."

5.  Abusers use personal information to engage in social currency pissing matches and even blackmail. Examples:

·         "Oh, you're X's friend, too? [Let me tell you some in-jokes that embarrass my victim friend or establish I’m the superior friend due to having a long history.]”

·         "You wouldn't be where you are today if I wasn't the first person you came out to."

·         “You wouldn’t be so successful if I hadn’t introduced you to Y.”

6.  Abusers isolate their victims from work, friends, and family. Abusers consistently criticize their victim's family and friends. They focus on demonizing people/entities, rather than behaviors. Examples:

·         "I hate your job." vs "I hate when your work schedule interferes with our plans."

·         "I hate your friends." vs "I hate when your friends are pessimistic about this game."

7. Abusers are quick to demonize former relationships as a way of confirming their friendship is the superior one. Examples:

·         "Your ex was such a stupid bitch."

·         "I'm glad you don't hang out with those moochers anymore."   

8. When abusers can't isolate their victim from their friends/family, they use friends/family as leverage. Examples:

·         “Are you sure you can’t go to this event with me? Let me ask your partner.”

·         “Don’t tell me I can’t afford this, your mom can just loan me some money.”

9.  Abusers consider everything an immutable promise to set you up for failure. Examples

·         "You promised we'd see a movie at 7pm, I don't care that there's an emergency at your office, you’re a terrible friend for not hanging out with me."

10.   Abusers are hypocrites, especially when it comes to standards of friendship. Example:

·         "Respect is the most important thing to me..." :: consistently uses sexist language when asked not to::

11.   Abusers reduce every conflict to being about them and put their needs first. Example:

·         "I can't believe you'd spring on me that your partner is bigender."

12. Abusers treat your ability to care about something/one as a finite resource to be competed over. Example:

"You care more about [online trans friend who has been feeling suicidal] than you care about me."

12.   Abusers claim their victim's passions for their own as another stalking/control tactic and way to ignore seeing their victim as an actualized person with diverse interests/needs. Examples:

·         "That's really great fan art you drew, is it for me?

·         "Your cosplay is awesome, where's my costume?"

·         I've had a few abusers write really awkward self-insert fanfics that played out like fandom bingo in an attempt to garner my favor.

13.   Abusers will often try to mimic their victim's successes, but only in a superficial way and will blame the victim for their failures. Examples:

·         "I started a blog, but no one is following me because you're not promoting my posts enough."

·         "You told me to keep drawing, but still no one likes my art. It's all your fault."

14.   Abusers turn their victim's passions against them. Abusers ridicule their victim's interests, beliefs, etc. Examples:

·         "It isn't fair you're so talented. I'm totally worthless compared to you."

·         "I've lost you and everything I cared about to a mediocre movie (that you love so much)."

·         "SJWs and trans-trenders stole you away from me."

·         "You're always so angry about trans stuff, I want the old (depressed, submissive) you back."

15.   Abusers interfere with their victim’s work/school/sleep to keep them off-guard. Examples:

·         :: numerous texts demanding an immediate reply during a busy work day or on a commute::

·         :: threats at 3am ::

16.   Abusers forcefully involve victims in their plans and control their schedule without warning. Examples:

·         There was a period of time in which I didn't drive much do to being poor, and an abuser took advantage of that to force me into going to places to watch him buy things for an hour or more before dropping me off at home.

·         Another abuser would just start following me at conventions, into panels, vendor rooms, sit down at lunch, etc.

17.   Abusers pressure victims to make decisions that are financially and/or otherwise harmful to their victim. Example:

·         “Buy this $300 wargaming army so we can finally do fun stuff together.”

(I was spending hundreds of dollars a month I couldn't afford trying to keep up with my abuser's frequently changing interests, all of which were framed as critical to maintaining our friendship.)

18.   Abusers minimize or ridicule their victim’s problems, especially when compared to their own.

Examples:

·         "Moving my birthday party to tomorrow is just as bad as when someone misgenders you."

·         “I can’t believe you’re skipping out on hanging with me this weekend.”

(Said when I was finally confronting my hoarding problem and had been up for 24+ hours doing an aggressive cleanout.)

19.   Abusers make their victims doubt their self-worth. Example:

·         "Your blog is just whoring for attention. You're such a narcissist." (said while I was finally starting to like my body as a trans person)

20.   Abusers gaslight and misrepresent events in order to cast doubt on your memory & concerns. Example:

·         "That never happened that way. Once again, I'm always right."

21.   Abusers are unpredictable with their praise and criticism, which makes the victim further question themselves.

22.   Abusers constantly demand positive reinforcement, often publicly. Example:

·         "Tell me why you're still friends with me."

·         "Name one good thing about me."

·         “You didn’t credit that I took that photo you posted on Tumblr, don’t you care about me? Go edit your post now.”

23.   Abusers make their victim feel they are responsible for the abuser's well-being. Abusers turn their victim into a commodity. Examples:

·         "My life would fall apart without you." ·        ”I need my BFF time!”

·         "You don’t care about me. I'm going to kill myself."

(Note: I take suicide threats seriously and it’s outside the scope of this article to discuss self-harm threats as abuse tactics vs mental illness.)

24.   Abusers publicly (and often threateningly) communicate in a way that is obscure to everyone... but sends a very clear message to you. Examples:

·         "I hate birds. Especially crows." (My partner's goes by the name Crow.)

·        ::flood of memes on Facebook about “real friends” after a fight::

25.   Abusers only apologize to make themselves feel better. Example:

·         "If I apologize, will you stop being mad at me?" vs "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

26.   Abusers rationalize specific instances of abuse to deflect from overall abusive patterns. Examples:

·         "I'm just really stressed right now, you know that work is killing me."

·         :: various co-opting the language of social justice & concern-trolling ::

27.   Abusers blame their victims for their abuse. Examples:

·         "I wouldn't have screamed at you in public if you hadn't made me so angry!"

·         "I was just joking, you're too sensitive."

28.   Abusers place their relationship above all others. Examples:

·         "I can't believe you extended your (first) date instead of hanging out with me."

·         “Why did you go out to dinner with your mom instead of hanging out with me?”

29.   Abusers set unrealistic expectations of how much you should interact. Example:

·         One of mine would get demanding if we didn't text every few hours, hang out virtually several hours each evening, and in-person every weekend.

30.   Abusers state they'll do anything for their victim, but never deliver on this promise, often berating their victim for even asking for help. Example:

·         "I'd do anything for you...", followed by, "... I can't believe you asked me to help you move"

31.   Abusers often make an effort to be charming and even caring in public. This makes the victim feel like they're the only ones suffering abuse, and thus, it must be their fault.

32.   Abusers pretend to reform, but it's mainly a tactic to shut down further criticism. Example:

·         "You're right, I'm a terrible person. I promise I'll change. Can we talk about something else now?"

33.   Abusers demand their victims be complicit in their abuse by redefining the nature of friendship and pressuring their victim to not question the abuse. Examples:

·         "A real friend would never criticize me." ·         "A real friend would agree with everything I do.”

34.   Abusers spend more and more of their time with their victim discussing their failings as a friend. Example:

·         “I told [mutual friend] about what you’ve been doing and she agrees with me that you’re a horrible friend.”

35. Abusers want you to swear allegiance to them, especially very early in a relationship. Example: ·         “Let’s get matching BFF tattoos.”

36. Abusers frame conversations they haven’t been invited to as talking/plotting behind their backs. Example:

·         In response to a side chat in which my grade school friends & I talked about family updates, etc: “I can’t believe you set up your own private chat without me. Traitor.”

37. Abusers constantly define and redefine their victim’s identity. Examples: ·        ”Trans men who want [x] shouldn’t consider themselves men.” ·       ”You are the ‘best of both worlds’” (A gross allusion to my transness and a prelude to later telling me he wanted to fuck me.)

38. Abusers police their victim’s appearance, even if it is harmful. Example: ·      “I don’t want you starting hormones. I want you to stay the way you are.”

39.  Abusers use call-outs as excuses for even more abuse and blame victims for feeling victimized. Examples:

·         “When you talk about this with other people, it makes me feel bad, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

·         Abusers I’ve left instantly reacted with rage that made me feel unsafe.

40. Abusers feign concern as segues into making demands. Example: ·      “Are you OK after the hurricane? Btw, I saw your latest cosplay photos, how about we coordinate a new cosplay for me?”

Not all abusers use all of these tactics, and a behavior in and of itself does not necessarily mean someone is an abuser. It’s especially difficult to identify abuse if you and/or your abuser is disadvantaged, have a mental illness, etc. The key is to recognize a consistent pattern of abuse.

Platonic abuse has serious consequences: Stress, depression, anxiety… it can cause physical health problems, financial disaster, and destroy healthy relationships.

Even when you escape, you may spend years recovering and unlearning coping behaviors originally developed to minimize/deflect abuse. In my case, I got into the habit of lying about my plans because I didn't want to be read the riot act that I hadn't invited my abuser to something intimate, like a mother's day dinner or a date. So now, my current gut reaction when asked where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing, what I’ve bought is to *lie* or shut down, and I HATE IT.

But, I'm happy that I've been learning how to identify and distance myself from toxic people. Unpacking my personal abuse is a slow, often painful process, but I hope it helps folks who have found themselves in similar relationships.

Platonic abuse is real and we shouldn’t be afraid to talk about it.

[torchholder247-blog]

The following are 're-posts' by Andrist and his professional peers about him revealing his lack of ethics, his hidden agenda of revenge against all doctors, his outright attack of the intellectually disabled and lies.

11/2012: Andrist post, in 3/2012, with the death of his sister Cali, he was 'forced' to look for work (https://bluefoggyday.tumblr.com/post/36164603548/my-2-week-job-at-costco)

Andrist:'During college, I worked 4 years at Fedco Membership Department Store in San Bernardino; 2 years as a cashier and 2 years in the cash/accounting office. I then spent the next 20+ years working in theatrical production. In 2003, I gave it all up to care full-time for my disabled sister. Unfortunately, she passed away in March 2012, and I was forced to look for work for the first time in a decade.'

Contradictions:

1. Andrist's words of being 'forced' portrays a much different picture of how/why he became a patient advocate and notary than he later claims with great vigor portraying himself as Cali's savior. Given his next life move is to sue the doctors and hospital he blamed for Cali's death (d.3/12/2012) while at the same time initiating a fight to remove the MICRA cap, reveals a common thread of a monetary incentive. Tax payers (MDCR/MediCal..noting Andrist claims Cali never worked) likely paid Cali's medical/death debts if not written off by the institutions first, so only Andrist benefited from the award.

2. Andrist claims that in 2003 he gave up 20+ years working in theatrical production to become a full-time caregiver to Cali. A quick online search finds the theatrical production company Andrist co-founded voted Andrist out, accepting his resignation in 1999 in a 5 to 0 vote (https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1999-sep-05-ca-6949-story.html).

3. Andrist's linkedin resume finds him 'unemployed' between 1999 until becoming a caregiver to his sister in 2003. No gainful employment, no volunteer work, nothing suggesting his life partner was perhaps financially supporting him, so Andrist didn't actually 'give up' anything to take care of Cali. Andrist actually personally profited. https://www.linkedin.com/in/eric-andrist-97478821/

On other sites Andrist claims he gave up his "show business career to care full time for 'both' his elderly mother and mentally retarded sister". (Andrist maintains calling Cali 'retarded' is just what she is: "Cali, born mentally retarded. Yes, I come from the generation that didn’t feel the need for politically correct terms like “mentally challenged,” she was always just mentally retarded. She actually didn’t let much of anything “challenge” her, so that term never seemed appropriate. https://calisplea.tumblr.com/) https://www.facebook.com/repmikequigley/posts/hellomy-name-is-eric-andrist-and-i-live-in-valley-village-ca-i-just-read-a-lette/10150969620415689/

4. Andrist claims he 'took in his elderly mother and disabled sister in 2003' (https://www.linkedin.com/in/eric-andrist-97478821/ & https://bluefoggyday.tumblr.com/post/109493866919/dog-god) A review of online records projects a different story. It appears Andrist's mom, Evelyn, sold her home 9/23/2002 and then bought into a home previously solely owned by Andrist's boyfriend/partner, adding both her name and her son Eric's within that same deed transaction on 9/25/2002 two days later. So in truth, Evelyn was a co-owner of the home, to be clear she was not a freeloader or charity case as implied. The timing of Andrist being added to the home title by deed suggests that Eveyln gave Andrist an early inheritance and retained a share (her name on the deed) to ensure the care of Cali in the future, with Cali likely inheriting a percentage of ownership in the home at the time of Evelyn's death. Evelyn died unexpectedly during elective surgery months later. If correct, Andrist was 'forced' to provide care for Cali or else buy Cali out and forfeit any State Financial Aid Cali most likely had been receiving. Instead Andrist opted for a quid pro quo agreement where he likely received State funds to care for Cali. Cali's death put an end to that income 'forcing' Andrist, as he stated, to hunt a job after 9 years of being her caregiver. No doubt Cali was satisfied with the arrangement, but there were strings attached, no charity or anything noble as Andrist suggests. Does Andrist's truth depend upon his audience and motive? That clearly appears to be the case when Andrist refuses to remove the innocent doctors from his many negative blogs related to his 'Bad Doctors' websites despite his receiving documents of proof of dismissal of all allegations/charges and removal of the online articles by the original reporters he had re-posted. It appears Andrist is motivated by power over the innocent doctors.

Seems this is where Andrist next landed, becoming a notary:

2013 Andrist's Peer Review of him as a notary/owner of Eric's Pro Services (his notary service in the Greater Los Angeles area):

(entire online exchange at https://www.notaryrotary.com/archive/forum/2013/January/Can_I_notarize_a_document_I_fill_out_.html )

Eric, I've been just an innocent bystander in this thread (in which I've learned a lot) but I gotta say at this point in response to your last post, your are such a whiner, crybaby, complainer, idiot, I can barely believe it. You got a boatload of valuable information from notaries across the country, none of whom needed to take the time, esp at EOM, to answer your ill-framed original question. Many either pointed you in the right direction, opened the topic to more discussion and in the case of Marian, cited you chapter and verse. What more do you need to know? A simple thank you for all their input and insight might have been in order. Nowhere else could you have gotten such informative and helpful responses.

But you want "joy." And to be "safe." Go to a spa. In fact, your hostility and foot-stomping tantrum, makes me think you can't possibly be a real notary but a trouble-making plant. Right?

Reply by Lisa X on 1/25/13 2:44pm

Msg #452202

He is a real notary. I looked him up to make sure he was.

Reply by Eric Andrist on 1/25/13 12:42pm

Msg #452183

While it's true that some of you posted some good info and were perfectly nice, some were not. I just don't understand a person's need to belittle another person in ANY way. I always assume a person asking a question literally knows nothing and try to give the best answer I can without making them feel like an idiot.

The, "am I the only person here who...." and "But you want "joy." And to be "safe." Go to a spa," is not hospitable or kind in my book.

I'd hate to think how they treat their customers.

Reply by GOLDGIRL/CA on 1/25/13 12:48pm

Msg #452185

Don't worry about it, Eric, because none of my "customers" are remotely like you. You are in a class by yourself.

And why is it when somebody's appalling behavior is called out to them, they always respond how sorry they feel for others? Just an observation.

(The Irony here is that Andrist consistently on his facebook site 'Bad Medicine Database' demeans and berates people that challenge his post, often name calling and censoring their post to promote his agenda of bullying the innocent.)

3/28/13: Andrist is being accused of Agent Misconduct for 'notarizing a document(s) he backdated'. Andrist's defense on the blog was that he was asked to, then goes into a tirade against the accusatory website.

http://www.notaryrotary.com/archive/forum/2013/March/badnotary_com_A_new_website_badmouthing_notaries_.html

2014-2015 Andrist posted about his efforts to obtain a financial award due to his sister, Cali's, unfortunate death he claims was due to medical negligence https://bluefoggyday.tumblr.com/post/109493866919/dog-god:

Andrist: Because my sister was disabled, with no spouse or children, California's MICRA law nearly prevented me from any legal action whatsoever. It took me over 8 months to find a lawyer who would take my case. On 3/9/2015 Andrist posted that 'I recently agreed to a confidential "settlement" against both the hospital and the doctor, even though I would have loved to have heard a jury find them both guilty'

(Being indigent, per Andrist, his sister, Cali's, medical/death expenses would have likely been either written off or paid by tax payers through her MDCR or Medical. The settlement award went directly to Andrist to use at his sole discretion. For what? He'd already been receiving monthly State checks for her care)

By 4/26/2015: Andrist tries his hand at writing children's books. Lending insight is the one book titled 'Lunch Money' which Andrist claims is based upon his early life experience of being bullied in school. (https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/538542)

(The significance of this finding is that Andrist well knows the victimization he imposes upon the innocent doctors and intellectually disabled persons)

11/9/2015 Eric Andrist on God and the deaths of his sister and mom (his public fb):

Ironically Andrist in another online blog of 1/29/2015 (https://bluefoggyday.tumblr.com/post/109493866919/dog-god) Andrist: He claims he 'stopped believing in God' as soon as he got 'old enough to think for himself. He goes on to explain how the church he loved disapproved that he'd skipped church to go to Disney for his birthday..and it was then that he decided church/religion was all hypocrisy. (A much different story than Andrist creates ten months later on 11/9/2015 when ramping up his patient advocacy position. Which is the truth?... the earlier story written pre-receiving Cali's death settlement abt. 3/19/2015 or the later written post-receiving Cali's death settlement when fighting MICRA to remove the survivor benefits cap, self-promoting for attention)

On Andrist's public fb:

Barbara X: Eric they are healed, just not in the way you asked. They are out of pain and walk with God. It's not easy to to forgive God, I have been there. You asked for healing for your Family and he answered you in the the way that was best.

Eric Andrist: No, they're not healed, Barbara, they're dead.

You're overlooking a very important bible verse that's mentioned at least 7 times, "Ask and ye SHALL receive." It doesn't say "Ask and I'll think about it."

I have no need to forgive God, he needs to be held responsible for his absence. He has allowed far too many horrible things to occur on this planet...he doesn't deserve forgiveness. Think about it: the Holocaust, 911, floods, ongoing famine, AIDS, and I could go on and on. That doesn't even touch on people's tragedies in their personal lives. I've had three tragic deaths in my immediate family and God was nowhere in sight.

I asked for healing and no suffering. All three of my family members suffered greatly before they died. He could have just as easily taken them in their sleep, but he didn't. You can justify it in your own head that they are "healed," but that's just a justification for you to continue believing that he exists. The bible clearly states that when people die, they are dead until God comes back at the end of time. They are NOT healed. And there's no guarantee that if he comes back, any of us are going to heaven anyway because he allowed us to all be sinners! He set up a catch-22 plan! Create people, introduce sin, and then punish people for being sinners. Jesus DIED and was raised from the dead...why would people be anything but dead if Jesus died?

Yes, my mother would be proud that I'm angry about this. She didn't work so hard her whole life to have it end in needless tragedy.

It makes me angry that people have fallen for this scam called "God," and refuse to look at the evidence that clearly proves he isn't there for us.

(Another revealing rant by Andrist, that he maintains a position that he will decide if he should forgive God, and that God must be held accountable)

May 10, 2019: The Medical Board of California suggested that Andrist was 'out for revenge' against physicians.(p 3)

https://www.mbc.ca.gov/About_Us/Meetings/Materials/1950/brd-AgendaItem4-20190808.pdf

(This claim is cross-verified by Andrist's bullying of doctors later found innocent being left up forever on his Bad Doctor websites creating perceived guilt by association with those doctors that actually were convicted of crimes. Andrist admits that he does little if any fact checking or follow-up on the doctors he posts. Additionally Andrist admits in an online exchange with BadDoctorDatabase-Errors, a website created to help salvage the careers/reputations of the many falsely accused doctors on Andrists' sites, that he can do whatever he wants on his sites (regardless of who it harms or of legal rulings) and that he does not believe in 'Innocent Until Proven Guilty')

May 20, 2019: Andrist failed to get elected to his neighborhood council...then whined about it online citing the election was not ADA compliant, demanding a new election and threatening to file a complaint with the City.

https://www.citywatchla.com/index.php/2016-01-01-13-17-00/los-angeles/17700-valley-village-nc-election-challenged

(Ironically, Andrist repeatedly over the past 9 years, as recently as 6/7/2019 (https://calisplea.tumblr.com/), openly discounts any need to be politically correct when calling his intellectually disabled sister Cali 'mentally retarded' (note: Rosa’s Law, signed by President Barack Obama in October 2010).

https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2017/07/11/2017-14343/rosas-law

Andrist appears hypocritical in his posturing of alleged sensitivity to accommodating the disabled in an election within which he ran given his own admitted refusal to cease offending, demeaning and dehumanizing the intellectually disabled population in his many derogatory references online to his sister, in one article even comparing her to his dog Bandit.(https://bluefoggyday.tumblr.com/post/109493866919/dog-god)

9/7/2019: Andrist obviously ignores the recent outrage to Democratic presidential candidate Sen. Kamala Harris and her response to a rally goer calling President Donald Trump's actions "mentally retarded" at a campaign event.

https://www.politico.com/story/2019/09/07/kamala-harris-mental-health-slur-trump-1484463

[pinkamour1588]

Holy shit this is a lot of questions

Tagged by the lovely @outside-the-government. Thank you, love!

Tagging: @t-hy-lla, @goingknowherewastaken, @engineeringtrashcan, @lucyclairedelune, @captainsbabysitter-blog, @darlinleonard, and anyone else who wants to do this because I have a short attention span and am trying not to tag people who’ve already been tagged or who have already done this.

Also putting this under read more, because seriously, this is a lot of questions.

1. Drink? A lot of lemonade. That’s my go to drink. Alcohol wise, I like hard ciders, moscato, and vodka.

2. Phone Call? I avoid them at all costs. Only make them when I absolutely have to.

3. Texting? My go to method of contact.

4. Last song you listened to? Uhhh, “Ground Control (feat. Teagan and Sara)” by All Time Low

5. Last time you cried? I can’t remember. Maybe two weeks ago?

6. Dated someone twice? I’ve never dated someone even once.

7. Kissed someone and regretted it? No. I’ve never kissed anyone. Unless you count me forcing one of the neighbor boys to kiss me when I was like 8.

8. Been cheated on? Nope.

9. Lost someone special? Yes. My grandpa my senior year of high school.

10. Been depressed? Many times.

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up? Thankfully no. I’ve never gotten that drunk.

Favorite Colors

12. Dark purple

13. Watermelon pink (like a reddish pink)

14. Orchid

In the last year have you…

15. Made new friends? Yeah. You all.

16. Fallen out of love? Nope.

17. Laughed until you cried? I don’t think I've ever actually cried laughing. Laughed so hard I can’t stop laughing, yes. But I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard I cried.

18. Found out someone was talking about you? Don’t think so. If I did, I blocked it out.

19. Met someone who changed you? Yeah, again, you all.

20. Found out who your friends are? Maybe. I had a friend stop talking to me out of the blue with no explanation, but other than that, no.

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list? See #7

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know irl? All of them? I mean, I only friended people who I knew. I don’t really know a lot of them well anymore. Plus, I never really use Facebook.

23. Do you have any pets? A cat named Maui.

24. Do you want to change your name? No.

25. What did you do for your last birthday? Ok, this sounds a little like bragging which I hate doing. I was actually in Hawaii for my 21st birthday. My grandma wanted to take my family there so we planned the trip so we’d be there for my birthday. At midnight, my sister, brother, and at the time soon to be brother in law took me to a bar and I got a cocktail. The next day, my mom woke me up staying she was making French toast. Ten minutes later, my sister came in and said “We’re making mimosas. Get up if you want booze.” (Not even exaggerating about that).

That afternoon, I got to go on a helicopter tour of part of the island we were staying on. Then later we (my grandma, parents, siblings, siblings SOs, aunt, and uncle) went to a bar and got drinks and a whole lot of appetizers that ended up just being our dinner. And then we had cake and I opened presents back at the condo we were staying in.

I would like to be clear that most of the time my birthday consists of hanging around the house, going out to dinner, birthday cake, and then opening gifts. It’s a hell of a lot more mundane.

26. What time did you wake up? This morning? Technically, I woke up twice. Once at like 6am and then managed to fall back asleep around 7am, then woke up again at 11am.

27. What were you doing at midnight last night? Watching @auduna-druitt write.

28. Name something you can’t wait for: My birthday.

29. When was the last time you saw your mom? Like 2 seconds ago. She’s sitting across the room from me.

What happened to 30?

31. What are you listening to right now? @auduna-druitt typing? And a desk fan.

32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom? Probably. Can’t think of any off the top of my head though.

33. Something that is getting on your nerves? The hot weather. And earlier I was commenting/complaining about people saying they’re antisocial when they mean they’re asocial.

34. Most visited website? Probably Tumblr and AO3. Oh, and Pinterest.

35. Hair color. Auburn. And I have a natural blonde streak on the underside of my hair at the very nape of my neck.

36. Long or short hair? Long hair. It goes down to around the band of my bra.

37. Do you have a crush on someone? Fictional characters, yeah. People in real life, no.

38. What do you like about yourself? My eyes. And my empathy.

39. Piercings? I have both my ears double pierced, so two piercings in each earlobe.

40. Blood type? I think O+...I’d ask my mom but she knows I’m doing a question post so that might be weird.

41. Nickname? Don’t really have one. I believe that Audie has nicknamed me kit-kat. But, yeah, I don’t really do nicknames.

42. Relationship status? So ridiculously single.

43. Zodiac? Leo.

44: Pronouns: She/Her.

45. Favorite TV Show: Is it weird if I actually say Star Trek TOS? I don’t know. I watch a lot of things. I’m trying to get into TNG or any of the other series, but I’m having a hard time getting into them. I’m kinda going through a phase where I’m not super into any tv shows. I like SVU.

46. Tattoos? Nope.

47. Right or left handed? Right handed.

48. Surgery? Uh, I’ve had to get teeth pulled when I was like 11 (they were all baby teeth)

49. Piercing? See #39

50. Sports? I like watching hockey. That’s pretty much it.

51. Vacation? I want to travel to a lot of places, but I don’t have any planned.

52. Pair of trainers? I need to buy a pair of converse since that’s pretty much all I wear.

53. Eating? I just ate a quesadilla with ground beef taco meat.

54. Drinking? Water currently.

55. I’m about to? Uh, don’t know.

56. Waiting for? My birthday and the contacts I bought because I’m almost out and the order I made from Ulta.

57. Want? A boyfriend. More friends. A job. To know how to talk to people. I want a hell of a lot of things.

58. Get married? Yes. It’s always been something I wanted.

59. Career? Don’t know what I want to do as a career yet, but I do want one.

60. Hugs or kisses? I’ve never been kissed, so I’m gonna go with hugs until find the right person to kiss.

70. Turned someone down? No. Never had the opportunity to.

71. Sex on the first date? Absolutely not.

72. Broken someones heart? No.

73. Had your heart broken? No. At least not romantically. I’ve had friends hurt me.

74. Been arrested? Nope.

75. Cried when someone died? Absolutely. Like instantly after my dad told me my grandpa had passed away I was sobbing.

76.. Fallen for a friend? No.

do you believe in…

77. yourself? Sometimes.

78. Miracles? Maybe. I’m not really sure.

79. Love at first sight? No. I believe in attraction and/or infatuation at first sight, but not love. Not the kind of love that lasts.

80. Santa Claus? My parents didn’t do the whole Santa Claus thing when I was growing up. So no, I don’t and never have.

81. Kiss on the first date? Like would I do it? Probably not. It would depend on the person and how well I knew them before.

82. Angels? Maybe.

83. Current best friends name? Rachel. And she’s fucking fantastic and my resident chemistry nerd and doesn’t have a tumblr unfortunately.

84. Eye color? I have total heterochromia so I have two different colored eyes. My right eye is blue. My left eye is green.

85. Favorite movie? I’m down to watch Star Trek anytime. I also watch Harry Potter at least once a year. And I loved Wonder Woman.

[twelvesignsrp]

congratulations iggy, gemini is now solo joyce with the faceclaim lakeith stanfield

IC INFO

Character name: Solo Joyce Birthday: June 12th, 1997 Sexuality: Bisexual Gender: Male Moon Sign: Virgo Faceclaim: Lakeith Stanfield Power: Solo will have the power of telempathy, which is the power to read minds and communicate with others with emotions. Solo will be able to feel others emotions and transfer his own to others, but it can only be done through touch. Through feeling the emotions, he can read the thoughts/images related to those emotions. My reasoning for this is that Geminis, as the sign of duality, are never just one thing. Geminis are on a constant search for something to complete themselves. Telempathy allows the user to enter multiple personalities via empathy. I could see Solo using this power to better explain the complexities of his emotion by literally showing them to others. He can also read others better. What do they study?: Anthropology

BIOGRAPHY

I know what you’re thinking. Funny, how a gemini—the sign of the twins—could be named Solo. The name is one of the many peculiar things about him, but it’s fitting considering his backstory.

Solo Joyce was a child of unfortunate circumstances: born prematurely to parents who were already addicted to opioids while he was still in the womb, and brought up in a toxic household. It’s a wonder he made it to age five. Solo doesn’t know why he was given his peculiar name, or if it means anything, because he never had the chance to ask his parents about it before he was taken away by Child Services, who classified his home life “unlivable.” The young boy, extremely malnourished and neglected, became a child of the system from that point on, never to see his biological parents again.

Solo Joyce was bounced around between foster homes for the rest of his childhood and early adolescence. While he is an adaptable person by nature (he never had much of a choice) Solo began to possess a few developmental issues; specifically, shutting himself away from almost everyone he met. But why would you want to be vulnerable in homes that are often cold, unloving, and frequently scary? Because of the fact that he was unresponsive in many ways, he never stayed in one house for very long.

Suffice it to say, Solo’s home and personal troubles carried over to his academic life,  where he experienced difficulties figuring out how and where to fit in. For years he floated through grade school, practically unnoticed as he focused on his studies, which were surprisingly unaffected during this time. That was because Solo used his studies as a form of escapism from the cramped houses and indifferent foster parents he was forced to go home to every night. Burying his nose in his books allowed him to disappear for hours at a time. Knowledge was his safe space. As Solo moved closer and closer towards adolescence, it became harder to float through the daily motions of school days without being noticed, and he was.

A group of young men who would not be considered good citizens took an interest in Solo because of his laid-back and unassuming personality. This group was known for supplying all kinds of unsavory things to people in the area—namely, narcotics. Solo never had much of an interest in drugs of any type because of how his history was affected by them, but it would be remiss to say he didn’t enjoy the feeling of having friends. They were friendly with him, and he felt more like a part of a family than he had ever felt before. The only issue came from his studies. Solo hid his good grades and proclivity for learning from his new friends for fear of judgment.

For a while things were okay, but eventually Solo began to find himself in problematic situations. One night, when he and his group showed up to a party to deliver some drugs, they found the cops were already inside waiting for them to arrive. Solo was arrested and taken to the local detainment center for processing. He sat there for hours waiting for his release, until an officer came and said he could be released. It turned out that one of his female teachers was the wife of a police officer, and convinced them to let him go with a warning.

She’d been keeping an eye on Solo for some time now, and knew that he had great potential. She was the first person that had ever shown that type of support for Solo. Together they made a deal: if he kept up with his studies and kept away from bad influences, like the ones that almost got him locked away, she would do everything she could to help him get into a good college. Solo positively buzzed with the excitement of the opportunity and kept up with his end of the deal.

Solo being accepted into Durham University was the type of fresh start that he was missing in life. Suddenly, it felt as if the pieces of his life were coming together. For the first time in his life, Solo didn’t feel like he was stuck. He was free. Soon he began to make friends… good friends. He didn’t have to hide anymore. Solo is still working to find himself and has his moments of despair, but for once, at Durham, he is happy.

Five interesting facts about your character:

1. Despite always wanting one, Solo has never had a pet. Now that he lives on his own (kinda… dorms count) he would like to get one, but the stress of not knowing what to get keeps him from having a pet to call his own. 2. Solo enjoys Star Wars as much as the next person, but he loathes when people relate his name to the popular Star Wars character as if it’s some type of joke. It’s not a joke. 3. He is partially deaf in his left ear. 4. He loves to paint, and is actually quite good at it. Basquiat is a personal favorite of his. 5. Solo has no middle name.

Character Quote: (Any quote, lyric or poem that you think really describes your character)

❝ If I fall, if I die, know I lived and missed some bullets. ❞

If your character had a patronus what would it be? and why?

So I was having trouble coming up with a patronus on my own, so i took a few quizzes to see what they had to say:

Solo’s patronus takes the form of a Rabbit. A rabbit is known for being somewhat shy. Similarly, he tends to be quiet around others, especially new people. However,he is very bright and alert. Solo is good at reading people and knows who to trust. He is also nurturing and kind, but his mind races in the heat of conflict.

WRITING SAMPLE

The most difficult part of being a quiet person was that you’re hardly ever really quiet at all. Maybe externally, but certainly not internally. Solo hated the way his mind constantly raced about everything. Even the girl that sat adjacent to him in his 11 AM Anthropology lecture.

This wasn’t their first class together. Solo supposed she was a fellow Anthropology major due to the fact that their schedules were almost identical last semester. Her choice in seating was consistent. Solo was thankful she sat in a spot where he could sneak glances at her without rising suspicion. He liked the way her dark hair draped over her shoulder like a curtain when she wore it down, and hid her face from his perspective, save for a sliver of her cheek and her thick eyelashes.

If only there were some way to get near her, he thought. Solo felt as if the simple move of focusing his attention and closing his eyes would will her closer. As a child he always believed there was something magical about him. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. If you were magic then you could change your world… make it better. Solo liked to think that a girl like her could make his life better.

Her hand came up to move the curtain of dark hair away from her face to tuck it behind her ear. With the length of her neck exposed, Solo felt his world go still. Nothing else mattered—certainly not anthropology.

The shuffling of papers and backpacks brought him back down to earth as the lecture was dismissed. Solo looked away for only a moment, but when he returned his attention, she was gone. Next time, he thought. Next time he would work up the courage to talk to her.

He was used to the sinking feeling that always set in around this time.

That’s the issue with being a person who’s loud on the inside. You fall in love with anyone who can come along and silence you for a second.

[filiusinanis-blog]

Kingdom Hearts: The Next Generation

Chapter 1 - I burn a man alive

Okay, I know the title sounds bad but I can explain.

My name is Skylar Cameron Akari. I’m fourteen years old, and I live on the Destiny Islands. It’s a small world, made up of a large mainland with a single town, and a smaller island just off the coast, where the younger kids usually play. Myself included.

I’m nothing very special, just a short kid with dyed blue and pink pixie cut hair, with several ear piercings and a plan to get myself my own tattoo when I’m old enough for my dad to allow me. My closet consists of mainly black, blue, and the odd pink clothing. Mostly just jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies. A beanie hat here and there. Nothing special, just a normal teen. Tween. Whatever fourteen is considered. The only thing that could be considered ‘special’ about me, is my intelligence and my affinity for magic.

Oh yeah, did I mention that magic is a thing that exists?

While the particular world I live on isn’t exactly magic central( Our local school isn’t Hogwarts, unfortunately ) my family’s more than adept in the art. As well as other things, but we’ll get into that later. That being said, my dad and uncle have taught me plenty. As soon as I voiced interest in it, they were teaching me all kinds of little spells. And as my interest grew, my training was turned over to my Aunt, who excelled in the craft. I couldn’t tell you how much I loved learning to use it. Although, I couldn’t help but feel like I never had a real reason to use it...

Until my fourteenth birthday, that is.

It started like all my birthday’s do. With my dad and sibling making me this huge breakfast, consisting of chocolate chip and blueberry waffles, an assortment of toppings( Including Candy Corn, my personal favorite. Sue me. ), home made vanilla milk( The only acceptable type of milk. ), and a chocolate cupcake with peanut butter icing. Because Darrien, my sibling, is highly allergic to peanuts, we can’t have a full big cake with such icing. However, since it’s my favorite they insisted on at least making me a cupcake.

Anyway I made my way out of my room and downstairs into the kitchen. Typically I stay up all night talking and writing with friends on the internet, so naturally I was dead tired. Excited, but dead tired. I rubbed my eyes as I moved into the kitchen, groggily mumbling a small, “G’morning...”

“Hey! There he is! Mornin’ kiddo.” My dad gave me his signature grin, turning his attention away from the waffles to greet me. My dad’s name is Sora. Sora Akari. He used to travel to all kinds of worlds. He even saved them a couple times. He’s got brown hair and blue eyes, and typically wear jeans, converse, a long sleeve shirt and a plaid un-buttoned button-down over-shirt( try saying all that five times fast ). He’s incredibly too kind for his own good. Although, that doesn’t mean he’s easily messed with. He’s a keyblade master. He’s got so much combat experience, and it shows. He’s strong, wise, and you should see him fight. I’ve only ever seen it once, but he has special forms he can go into in case he needs a bit of a power boost. Apparently the one I saw was his strongest-- Final Form. ‘Course, fighting a war for three to four years took a negative toll on him too. He’s jumpy, especially with loud noises( fire works don’t sit well with him ), and I know for a fact that he still as nightmares at night.

“Ha! Looks like someone stayed up all night on tumblr again.” Darrien grinned, giving a small wave of her wrist to show off her pink bracelet. My sister is genderfluid, and recently came out just two years ago, so that year for her birthday I gave her a special bracelet that changes color according to what gender she’d feeling every day. She’s able to change it by just saying “Today I am ____”. I hate stereotyping colors with genders, but we both agreed that it’d be easiest if we just went with pink blue and grey.

Anyway, my sister Darrien is four years older than me( Already in senior year. Lucky buggar. ), has red hair like our mom, and looks uncannily like dad. She usually wears a white t-shirt with red and orange paint splattered on it( or any of her other splatter painted shirts ), her favorite red and orange striped vest, a pair of either white or light blue jeans( usually with some sort of paint splotch on them ), and a pair of red sneakers. She’s reckless, emotional, overprotective, and always has some kind of bandage on her person. She’s got a little scar on the right side of her lips from a stunt she pulled with some of her friends. She loves to paint and craft, even if she’s not very good at drawing. Most of our time together consists of our projects. She’s also a seriously good hair stylist. She’s the only one I trust to do my hair.

“You’re one to talk... You’re the one i was up writing with.” I yawned stretching my arms over my head, “Just ‘cause your a fountain of energy...”

She laughed, ruffling my hair a little, “Alright alright. C’mon, let’s eat breakfast so we’re not late for school.”

All three of us moved out of the kitchen, seating ourselves at our little round table to eat our breakfast. As per tradition, my dad and sister sang to me and let me eat my cupcake before my waffles. We laughed, joked, teased at one another, and all around just had a merry morning as usual.

By now you may have noticed something missing in my little family. I haven’t mentioned my mother at all. Reason being that she apparently went missing when I was only two years old. I was too young to remember her, but I’ve seen pictures and dad told me a lot about her. She had red hair and deep blue eyes, and she was kind beyond belief. She was always doing anything she could to help someone in need. And from what I hear from dad, she’s a fighter too. She takes no sherbet( Darrien and I have resolved to replacing cuss words with food names ), and fights even fiercer than my father. I wish I could’ve met her. The way dad talks, I can tell that she may not be dead. Or at least, he doesn’t believe she is. Just missing. He’s even taken frequent trips to try and find her.

As we ate we did another tradition: letting me open one of my birthday gifts( from each of them ) before the party that night. Darrien gave me a small gift with a new hand-crafted choker in it. Definitely one I’d be wearing to school that day. But this time my dad just grinned, “Sorry kiddo, but I’m gonna have to break tradition a little this year. What I’ve got for you is something that I’m gonna have to give you later tonight.” He gave me a wink, which only served to get me very curious.

I puffed out my cheeks, “Whaaat? You can’t tell me what it is? You’re killing me with suspense here!” My tone was overdramatic, intended to get a laugh out of my father and sister. My sister gave a snort while my dad just chuckled.

“You’ll just have to wait! I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

I blew a few raspberries, earning a laugh from both of them. After eating Darrien and I got ourselves dressed and ready for school. I got really lucky. Today was not only my birthday, but it was the last day of school before summer break too. The perks of being a June baby I suppose. We said our goodbyes to dad, racing off to meet up with Kirimi and walk to school.

I couldn’t have known that I wouldn’t be seeing that house for a long time.

I couldn’t have known that I’d never get that birthday party.

I couldn’t have known that My life was going to be changing forever after today.

If I’d known that, I would’ve insisted on staying home, spending time with dad, and making every minute count.

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

“Kirimi!”

I heard Darrien shout as she ran ahead of me, waving to a girl up ahead. Her name was Kirimi. She’s our older cousin-- Much older actually. She’s twenty-one. She has curly shoulder-length silver hair, teal eyes and she’s very tall. Very tall. She wears mostly yellow. Yellow skinny jeans, grey tank top, and a vest that used to belong to her dad, Uncle Riku. She’s pretty darn athletic too. She was on a bunch of sports teams in school and was one of the best players. She spars a lot with Darrien, and both of them suckered me into learning swordplay as well. She’s also a keyblade wielder. Her dad did the inheritance ceremony with her a couple years back. I was still pretty young, so i don’t remember much of it. Darrien’s had the inheritance ceremony done with him too, but his blade hasn’t come to him yet.

“Hey kid! Ready to head to school?” Kirimi grinned as we caught up with her, pushing herself off the wall she’d been leaning on.

“Heck yeah! Finally, I’m gettin’ out of school!!” Darrien’s excitement was easy to hear in her voice. Now that she was done with school, she’d be able to spend more time training than studying.

“Lucky. I’ve still got four years left.” I huffed, folding my arms. Aaand the cons of being the youngest.

My sister laughed and ruffled up my hair dashing ahead of Kiri and I, “Don’t worry, you’ll breeze right through it! You’ll do a heck-of-a lot better than I did anyway!” She laughed, running off and forcing both Kirimi and I to start running after her.

The run to school wasn’t anything exciting. Just our normal race to the school yard. And yet as I ran I could swear I felt eyes on my back, watching me as I made my way to the building. And other day I’d simply write it off as paranoia, or maybe just as one of my monsters checking up on me( More on that later )... But this feeling was incredibly different. It wasn’t just that dark presence that I’ve come to sense in my monsters. It was cold and sinister. Dripping with malice and a strong urge to harm. The emotion in the stare was so real, I knew it had to be.

Even so, as I stopped to check the surrounding area every now and again, time and time again I saw nothing but normal passerby; everyone hurrying to and fro to get to work, meet up with friends, or just lounge around the town. No matter how many times I turned, the gaze was always on my back. Looking back I realize I was pretty stupid for not telling Kirimi and Darrien this. If I had, maybe we��d have ended up in a better situation.

But, instead of doing the smart thing and warning them, I brushed off whatever concern they showed and simply continued my way to school. Once the three of us reached the schoolyard, Kirimi wished us a good day and left to begin her training with Uncle Riku. Darrien and I went to our separate classes, and somehow that strange feeling seemed to dissipate as soon as I entered the building. I met up with one of my closest friends, Jill. She’s a lot like me-- a little rebellious, wears as much jewelry as she’s allowed, smart and nerdy, and has an incredible interest in mythical beasts and all things fantasy. She’s actually the one who convinced me to dye my hair.

She’s also incredibly awesome. I met her on my first day of sixth grade, when she saved me from a gang of bullies who’d stuffed me in a locker( Being tiny and one of the most unpopular kids in school? Seriously. Stinks. ). She’d happened to be passing by just when they’d closed the door on me, and from what I could tell she’d scared them off pretty quick. Fairly certain she’d kicked one of them in a... Sensitive place. We’ve been best friends ever since. She even started teaching me martial arts.

While I was seated in homeroom, doodling in my sketchpad and just waiting for homeroom to start, Jill snuck up behind me and grabbed me into a tight hug, “Happy Birthday Sky-boy!!”

I laughed, putting a hand on her arm, “Thanks Jill.”

There was a giggle from her, and as she moved to remove her arms I felt something being strung around my neck, “Aaaand, here’s your gift!”

I looked down, seeing a silver locket strung on a silver chain. Curious, I moved my hand to lift it up, opening it. Inside was a picture of Jill and I, with me having shiny new blue hair with green tips, “The first time I dyed my hair..!”

“Yep!” She grinned, her hands moving to my shoulders, “Hard to believe that was two years ago, huh?”

“Sure is.” I said, turning my head to look at her face, “Ah, I see you went fire today.”

The ‘fire’ I was referring to was aimed at her hair. She had a different color of hair almost every week. Today her hair was a gradation of yellow to orange to red. And it had a sheen to it that made her hair look like it was on fire.

“You noticed~!” Her voice was sing-song like, a huge grin sitting on her face, “Yes, I wanted to go flashy and bright today~. Let everyone know that I’m so fired up for summer break!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her mini-pun. She loved puns, “Maybe I should change my hair color. The pink’s fading after all...”

“You should do watermelon!!”

“Pink with green tips?” I thought about it, swaying my head a bit, “Hmm... I guess I might have some clothes to go with that.”

She laughed, putting her hands on her hips and moving to stand next to me, “I’m sure you have some lighter clothes somewhere. Ya gotta get a brighter closet!”

“Hm..... Okay. I’ll go watermelon. But only for you! And I get to keep my dark closet!”

“Haha, alright! Operation watermelon is a go! We’ll talk to your sibling to set up the appointment. I gotta be there when you get it done.”

“Alright, deal. Maybe I can convince her to do it tonight at the party.” I smiled, blinking at the teacher called us to our seats.

Classes went by as ‘Final School Day’ usually did-- with lots of parties and just general goofing off( Except for that one teacher who just can’t loosen up ), and I actually got a little mini birthday party in one of my classes. I didn’t have a lot of friends at school, so it was actually a bit surprising that anyone paid attention to when my birthday was. Everything was fine and great. All the way up...

Until lunch time.

Lunch was always the period I dreaded. Not because I had no place to go, I had Jill after all, but because it was the time of day where they got their chance to annoy the heck out of me. Johnathan Hue, Cody Rax, and Harry Stillman. The three biggest jerks in my whole class, who have been tormenting me all year. No matter how often I changed where I sat at lunch, they always found me, and they always humiliated me. Eventually I ended up seeking out isolated places to eat, just so no one would see them messing with me.

I did punch John in the face once though. He screwed up my hair dye by dumping red paint on me from one of the upper floors. Jill high-fived me and Darrien helped me fix it.

Anyway, in trying to avoid having another awful day at the hands of thing one thing two and thing three, I made my way up to the roof to eat lunch. For the first five minute of my thirty minute period by myself, I was content and happy just eating my ham and cheese sandwich, waiting for Jill to come join me. And then the roof door slammed open. I stopped eating, preparing to defend myself. But I didn’t hear the normal laughing and snarky comments of the bullies. I didn’t even hear multiple footsteps. Just one set. They came alone? That was unusual. I glanced up to see who came to torment me today. It was John, leader of the group with short brown hair, muscled up, and always wearing an over-sized varsity jacket. I think he just wears it to look bigger.

I glared at him as he made his way over to me, sauntering on over as if he were actually all-that. If only he knew how many of the kids in the school despised him. He stopped next to the bench I was seated on, leaning against the roof fence. He said nothing, something rather unusual for him. Usually by now he was taunting me, pushing me around, anything. But he just stood there. There was a strange calmness about him. Tainted with hatred.

“... So what are you gonna do this time?” I finally spoke up, not liking the suspense surrounding the air.

“To finish this.”

My body tensed. This wasn’t a ‘I’m going to patch things with you’ tone and feeling. This was malicious. Hateful. The same emotions I felt earlier that day. They’d come from John.

“... When did you start following me?”

“Right after you met with your cousin.”

“... What do you want from me?”

“I told you. I’m here to finish this. I finally have confirmation that it’s you.”

Confirmation..? It’s me..? I couldn’t understand what this guy was talking about. I gave him a quizzical look. He didn’t seem like he was joking, but he also didn’t explain what he meant.

“... Where’s Cody and Harry? Your two flunkies skip school without ya?”

He gave a chuff of a laugh, a twisted grin on his face, “Those two? They’re with my mistress.”

“... And I don’t suppose you’re gonna explain any of this? You’re just gonna let me think you’re crazy?”

He paused, pushing himself off the fence and moving to stand in front of me. I grunted as he suddenly grabbed my left shoulder, shoving me up against the fence, “Do you know what I am, child?” I stared, unsure of how to answer. A jock? A phsyco? A creeper?

“I’m an Oni.” He sneered, “A being forever stuck between life and death.”

I felt my eyes widen. An Oni? So this guy was... Dead?

He read the confusion and surprise on my face, laughing and putting a hand on the fence behind me, “That’s right, son of the void. I am dead. For how long, I know not. All I know is that I died, and was dragged into limbo by my mistress. Now I am neither living, nor dead.”

I was confused. I was scared. I didn’t fear monsters-- I actively tried to understand and connect with them. No, it was not him I feared. It was the pure hostility pouring from him. The joy he would feel in scaring me. The hatred burning through him. The sick sense of entertainment he was getting from this. It surrounded me, and my breathing became labored as if the feelings themselves were squeezing the air out of my lungs. My voice would no longer work. It felt like a knot in my throat. I wasn’t scared.

I was terrified.

“Would you like to know how I died?” I flinched as he spoke again, unable to hold in a wince as he dug his nails into my shoulder, “I was burned alive. I was pulled into Limbo just before my body was destroyed. And because I died so... Uniquely, I obtained certain... Perks.”

I was suddenly aware of the burning hot crawling down my back. Molten metal. The fence was melting behind me. I whimpered at the heat, trying to keep myself from touching it. A strangled yelp left me as a bit of it dripped down my arm and the smallest of dots dropped onto my neck. I heard him laugh, sadistic and with a sick sense of joy behind it. His hand dropped to my other shoulder, and I could still feel the fading warmth in it.

“Do you have a fear, son of the void?” The more I listened to his voice, the more I hated it. Feared it. The sick tone seemed to crawl down my spine, and I could feel the malice dripping from it, “Perhaps a... Fear of heights.

Before I could so much as blink, I felt myself turned around and lifted off the ground, being held by the back of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, kicking my legs desperately in an attempt to find the ground. I heard him laughing, felt him fake drop me a couple times, “Oh this is so rich!  Who knew that you were so weak! Makes me wonder why my mistress is so afraid of you.”

“Let me go!! Someone help!! Please!!!” I struggled and screamed, and slowly the screams of kids below us began being heard. I chanced a glance down at the yard. A couple guys were running into the building, trying to get up to us. Some of the girls followed them in. The rest of them were standing below us. There was even a small group of football players standing below me to try and catch me if I did fall.

The roof door slammed shut, and I yelped and closed my eyes tightly again, “No one can help you now.” My blood ran cold, and all of a sudden the feeling of his hand on my neck disappeared. I felt myself falling. I screamed. There was a flash of blue and purple light, and all of a sudden I felt arms around me, carrying me back upwards. I had no idea what just happened, but I clung for dear life to the one who saved me. I heard two near simultaneous thuds on the roof floor, as if two people had jumped and landed on their feet at the same time. I heard footsteps, a snap, and a cry of pain from the Oni named John. When I finally brought myself to look at what happened, I saw my father standing over the Oni, keyblade in hand. John was holding his upper body up with his left arm, his right arm twisted and obviously broken. Looking up, I saw it was my Uncle Riku who had saved me.

“How didn’t I know it was you?” I flinched and looked to my father as he spoke to himself. The look on his face was one I’ve only seen once before in my life. The day I’d been ambushed by heartless, and he used his most powerful drive form to save me. A look of protection, of hatred, and a chilling calm. I could only assume it was one he adopted whenever one he loved was threatened.

John laughed. As if he already wasn’t in enough deep trouble, “I guess I’m just too clever...~ Or maybe your senses are just out of touch~”

“Don’t push it.” The words my father growled out dripped with hatred. I had never felt such malice and hatred come from my father before. My dad didn’t hate anyone. He could dislike them, yeah, but I’d never felt outright hate coming from him. This wasn’t just about me. It couldn’t be.

“Tell me what happened that night. Tell me what you did. Where is my wife?”

Mother. Kairi Akari. The woman I only knew through words from my father and sister; whom the only memory I had of her consisted of warm arms, cradling me protectively. This Oni had something to do with her disappearance.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” John was treading on thin ice. But why wouldn’t he? Even if he fell through, he wouldn’t drown. He couldn’t die. No... There had to be a weakness. A way to get rid of him, if only for a while.

“Don’t play games with us.” I heard my uncle speak up this time, and I felt him squeeze my shoulder a bit. Not hard, just a soft squeeze. Reassuring; Trying to tell me that things would be alright. They would take care of it. There was no need for me to get involved yet. He looked to me, smiling briefly to reaffirm the feeling of security. He then carefully placed me on my feet and moved to join dad. I wanted to say something. To tell them to get away. My voice wouldn’t work, and my legs felt like jelly. I couldn’t warn them-- I had to at least think. His weakness. What could his weakness be?!

“Oh, but games are so much fun, don’t you think?” He grinned, placing a hand on his broken arm, “Children do love their games...” I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see what he was about to do. I felt two arms pushing me back a couple steps as my father and uncle backed up themselves. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw John standing. His arm didn’t look broken at all. In fact he was stretching it across his chest. It made me sick to think of how he fixed it.

He cracked his knuckles, letting his varsity jacket slip off his shoulders and onto the ground. I hated to admit it, but the guy was... Very muscular. And he was wearing a tank top that was just a little too tight on him. His arms were covered in burn scars, and if he removed his tank I’ve no doubt that he’d have even more scars on his chest and back. With a flick of his arms, flames ignited to life, dancing in orange yellow and red. Looking carefully, I noticed that the flames didn’t actually touch his skin. Thy were floating just above it-- more like magic than some sort of internal flame. I had to wonder...

I flinched away from my thoughts when I heard the sound of Dad and Uncle Riku summoning their keyblades. There were no words exchanged between the three before the battle began. I heard banging on the roof door. Someone trying to get through to help us. I could hear Jill calling for me behind it, “Sky?! Skylar I’m coming!! I’ve almost got it!!”

Looking back to Dad and Uncle Riku, I saw them fighting against John relentlessly. Both of them were covered in burns and what looked like scratch marks. But every time they hit John, the wound made just stitched itself back together-- there wasn’t even a scar. My feet felt rooted to the spot where I stood. I was terrified. All this malice, hatred, and fear in the air was messing with my head. I had to take a few minutes to breath. In. Out. Focus.

His fire never touched him. It was always just above his skin. Why? If he couldn’t die, he could just light his fire directly on his skin. It shouldn’t even burn... But then... The scars.

That was it.

I drew in a deep breath, forcing my trembling body to still. I held out a hand, watching the fight closely. I had to time it right, or I would end up hitting Uncle Riku or my dad. Wait for it... Wait for it...

There.

I flicked my wrist, and a spark erupted in front of my hand. The spark became a flame, which grew into a fireball. Within seconds it shot forward, whizzing past Riku and dad’s head. It slammed into the Oni before one could even blink, and in an instant his body burst into flames. The screaming was awful, and the amount of pain that flooded the air with it was choking me. The demon looked at me, and a wave of hatred washed over my body, sending me sinking to my knees. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. He’d never forget this. I was his target. Now. And Forever. A strange hole of darkness opened behind him, and he staggered his way through.

As soon as it closed, the roof door slammed open. I felt hands on my shoulders, and I clung to the sleeve of who I would moment later recognize as my father. Jill came tearing towards me, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around me. Other students were searching the roof, trying to find the bully they knew as John. I choked out a breath-- I hadn’t even realized that I’d been holding it. I over heard my father and Uncle talking-- Something about taking me to Yen Sid, and that they were out of time. I had to take a minute to comprehend what was going on.

Some demon called an Oni had been watching me through the entire school year, and tried to throw my off a roof.

I basically just burned him alive.( Dead? )

I was going to go see Yen Sid with the rest of my family.

And one last big thing that was nagging me.

He’d said ‘it’s you.’ What was me? Did he know something about me that I didn’t? Was it about my monsters? Or...

Did it have something to do with my birth parents..?

I had no idea. I only knew that, so far? Worst birthday ever.

[the-desolated-quill]

Lemony Snicket’s A Series Of Unfortunate Events - Movie blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. if you haven’t seen this movie yet, you may want to before reading this review)

With the A Series Of Unfortunate Events TV series debuting on Netflix tomorrow (on my birthday!), I thought it would be interesting to look back on the industry’s first attempt to adapt the books. Lemony Snicket’s A Series Of Unfortunate Events, made by Paramount, Dreamworks and Nickelodeon, directed by Brad Silberling and released in 2004.

Lemony Snicket’s A Series Of Unfortunate Events combines the first three books of the series together in order to form one story. It follows the same basic plot. Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire lose their parents in a fire and are adopted by Count Olaf, a treacherous villain and even worse actor who wants to get his hands on the Baudelaire fortune. Outwitting him and escaping from his clutches, the Baudelaires move from guardian to guardian with Count Olaf in hot pursuit using various disguises to fool the guardians and the authorities.

This film has gained a significant cult following in recent years and I can sort of see why. This film offers a very dark, quirky surrealism that you don’t often get in family movies, but while I don’t exactly out and out hate the film, I can’t say I’m very fond of it personally. Having read the books and being a massive fan of the series as a whole, I really wasn’t impressed with how the filmmakers chose to adapt the story.

But let’s start with the positives. The first thing that really jumped out at me was the set design. There’s no denial that this film is able to capture the spirit of the books through the visuals. A perfect mix of goth, steampunk and 1920s. Count Olaf’s house is an absolute treat for the eyes with loads of little details scattered here and there. Uncle Monty’s house, especially the Reptile Room, is incredibly imaginative, and Aunt Josephine’s house overlooking Damocles Dock and Lake Lachrymose is brought to life perfectly. Costumes too are spot on. I particularly like Violet and Count Olaf’s wardrobe.

The film also boasts a lot of great talent. Both Timothy Spall and Meryl Streep I thought were perfect as Mr. Poe and Aunt Josephine respectively. They were exactly how I had imagined them in my head. I also thought that Billy Connolly did a great job as Uncle Monty. While not quite as manic or eccentric as the book version, movie Uncle Monty is an extremely likeable, fatherly figure. I particularly like the inclusion of him losing his own family to a fire just like the Baudelaires did, as opposed to the book version where he always intended to find a wife and have kids but kept forgetting to do so. I thought that was a welcome change that made him a more sympathetic figure. But the standout performance for me has to be Emily Browning as Violet. I’ve often said that Violet is my favourite Baudelaire due to the burden of responsibility she carries for her siblings, and Browning conveys that perfectly. She’s mature, calm under pressure and highly resourceful. It’s just a pity the film never fully utilises her character.

Yes, this is where we talk about the negatives and sadly there is a lot I don’t like about this film.

As I said, this film consists of the first three books of the series, which results in all three stories becoming squashed and fighting for space. As much as I like Uncle Monty and Aunt Josephine, we never really get to spend any significant time with them before they meet their respective demises. It also feels incredibly rushed, the film having to quickly jump from one book to the next, which means we never get the chance to become accustomed to any new environments or characters, the plots never get a chance to establish any credible threat or build any sort of tension and the Baudelaires never get the chance to display their inventiveness and resourcefulness in getting out of the situations they find themselves trapped in. In fact most of the plots are resolved through blind chance or random happenstance. One scene in particular is when they’re attacked by the Lachrymose Leeches. This could and should be an extremely tense scene, but the film very quickly resolves it when it only barely just got started.

By far the character that suffers the most is Violet, whose contribution is significantly reduced. She doesn’t really get to invent a lot of stuff. She makes a sanctuary, a rudimentary pulley system during the train sequence and lobs an anchor at a wooden support to tip Aunt Josephine’s house back onto land, and that’s really about it. We don’t get to see Klaus and Sunny distract the adults in the Reptile Room while Violet builds a lockpick to break into Stephano’s bag and uncover his plan. Nor do we see Violet build the distress signal during the leech sequence using a bucket and the refraction and convergence of light. What’s worse is that one of her most prominent inventions, the grappling hook from The Bad Beginning used to rescue Sunny from the tower, is actually made by Klaus.

Ah yes. Let’s talk about Klaus. For starters I really don’t like Liam Aiken’s portrayal of the character at all, coming across as more stroppy teenager than bookworm and bearing almost little to no resemblance to the book version (he doesn’t even wear glasses), but what really annoys me is how the film ostensibly favours him, effectively making him the lead character. The Baudelaires ideally should be joint protagonists, but if you must favour one of them as the lead, it really should be Violet. She’s the eldest and carries the most weight due to the promise she made to her parents to always look after her siblings. But God forbid we should make a girl the lead, right? With all of her... girlieness! Out of the three, it’s Klaus that gets the most screen time. Investigating the mystery of VFD, foiling Olaf’s plans and there’s one scene at the end that really pissed me off. During The Marvellous Marriage, Klaus uses the grappling hook to rescue Sunny and is ultimately the one who unravels the mystery of the Baudelaire fire and saves the day, but at the cost of reducing Violet to a damsel in distress. In the original book, it was Violet who invented the grappling hook to rescue Sunny and it was ultimately her who foiled Olaf’s plan, signing the marriage certificate with her left hand as opposed to her right and thus making the marriage null and void. In the film, they actually reference this, having Violet beginning to sign the certificate with her left hand only for Olaf to correct her. The film effectively depowers Violet so that Klaus, the male lead, can do all the hero work. It’s simply infuriating.

Something else I’m really not happy with is the amount of attention the VFD mystery gets. I can understand why the filmmakers would choose to put so much focus on it. It is one of the more compelling mysteries of the series, but the way they do it shows a lack of basic understanding as to what the mystery, and ultimately the series as a whole, is actually about. 

While the secret of VFD is intriguing, in the books it’s kept mostly in the background, focusing instead on the Baudelaires’ survival and development. VFD also serves an important purpose in the books, demonstrating the paradoxical nature of secrets. How they can be both valuable and meaningless at the same time. As fascinating as the secret codes, the hidden bases and the sugar bowl are, they ultimately mean nothing in the end, which is kind of the point. The books teach children that in life tragedy and failure are inevitable, that good and evil aren’t so clearly defined, that the reason for evil in the world is because it’s often severely tempting to just do the easy thing as opposed to the right thing, and that there are some questions we will ask in our lifetimes that we will never learn the answers to. These are important things to teach children I believe, and I’m fully aware that there are some fans who weren’t happy with how the books ultimately finished, which is why it pains me to tell you that if you’re one of those people who was disappointed that we never found out exactly what VFD is, what’s inside the sugar bowl, what the Great Unknown is or who caused the Baudelaire fire, you’ve completely missed the point. And by putting so much emphasis on VFD, the filmmakers demonstrate they’ve missed the point too. Stuff about the schism and the fires, which are subtly seeded throughout the series, are just flat out told to us by Aunt Josephine in the movie, and I hate, hate, HATE the fact that we now know Count Olaf was behind the Baudelaire fire when it was deliberately kept ambiguous in the books. (I personally always thought that it was Esme Squalor who was behind the Baudelaire fire considering she has more motive to do it plus the tunnel to the mansion is directly under her penthouse).

I’m very disappointed by Lemony Snicket. Or I should say the severe lack of Lemony Snicket. Jude Law I thought was a perfect choice for the role, but he never actually gets to do anything other than narrate the story. If you were going to expand on VFD, you’d think the film would expand on Snicket too by proxy. But no. There’s no mention of Beatrice or his ties to VFD or even that he’s on the run from Count Olaf and the authorities. He’s just the narrator, which is a crying shame considering what a significant role he plays in the books (in fact you could even make the argument that he’s the true protagonist of the story, researching the Baudelaires in an effort to recapture his lost youth, get over his lost love and hopefully begin to move on with his life).

But my biggest disappointment is with Count Olaf.

I’ve always had a bit of a love/hate thing going with Jim Carrey. I loved him in stuff like The Truman Show and Bruce Almighty, but absolutely hated him in things like The Grinch and Batman Forever. While his style of comedy can be funny occasionally in small doses and in the right context, it can lead to some frankly appalling performances when utilised incorrectly and this is definitely the case.

Carrey plays Count Olaf far too over the top. And before you say it, yes I know A Series Of Unfortunate Events is absurdist fiction and that Count Olaf does occasionally act goofy and weird, but he’s also a very dark and sinister character too. As funny as he can be, you do buy that he’s a significant threat in the lives of the Baudelaire children. The Bad Beginning in particular has almost little to no comedy in it whatsoever. Daniel Handler (the author) treats the character and the setting with the utmost seriousness, which is appropriate considering that this is basically child abuse that’s being depicted here. With the movie, that’s not the case. Carrey goes into full clown mode resulting in a character that’s not in the least bit threatening nor even funny, instead coming across as obnoxious. Trying far too hard to get a laugh when the story really doesn’t call for it. The same also goes for his alter egos. While Captain Sham is admittedly quite amusing, Stephano has got to be one of the most annoying performances I’ve ever seen Carrey give. I just wanted to reach through the screen and throttle him. What’s worse is that when there are scenes where Count Olaf does have to behave treacherously and out of pure malevolence, such as when he slaps Klaus across the face, it comes across as extremely jarring because it stands at odds with the overly goofy Count Olaf we’ve just been watching. Not to mention the internal logic behind some of his schemes doesn’t make any sense. What made him believe that killing the children with a train would get him the fortune? That’s not how inheritance law works. Olaf may not be educated, but he’s not an idiot. And why would Mr. Poe allow Stephano to drag Violet and Klaus away when their guardian had just been killed and Stephano doesn’t fit the guidelines of their parents’ will? And after taking the children away from Count Olaf because of his bad parenting skills, why would he then give them back to Olaf after the leech sequence? He may have ‘rescued’ the children, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a good parent.

It’s not a terrible film I guess. I mean I’ve seen worse. But as an adaptation of A Series Of Unfortunate Events, it’s piss poor. Let’s hope Netflix can do better.

[venusbled-archive]

` HEADCANON 001.

i’m copying and pasting from managechan the headcanons i have for her family.

kiyoko’s PRIMARY family ( i.e. the family members she has the strongest bonds / developmental events with ) consists of only four people: her direct parents ——— shimizu tomomi ( maiden name murashita tomomi ) and shimizu koichi; her twelve-year-old little sister, shimizu akemi; and her aunt ( father’s sister ), shimizu momoka.

to preface: kiyoko comes from a family she considers to be BROKEN. a lot of her insecurities and skepticism / trust and abandonment issues come from the fact that when she was approximately thirteen, and her sister eight, their parents divorced.

what hits hardest is the fact that there was no previous hint to suggest there was trouble in the marriage, which would have at least provided some substance to the girls as to the reason WHY; but unfortunately, the decision to separate and eventually legally file for divorce was all initiated by their mother, who never offered any excuse.

the repercussions of the divorce still ring loud in daily life. kiyoko’s mother left wtihout a goodbye, and put up no fight for child custody ——— not even partial custody. koichi has faced serious strains of depression and general confusion, as even he isn’t sure why things happened the way they did, and he’s become an infamous member of the community because of his failed marital status. his mother will not talk to him ( though this is also influenced by other, personal reasons ), and he’s generally shunned by most neighbors.

consequently, kiyoko had become relatively reticent and quiet. she stopped inviting friends to her house for the sole fear that they would point out the fact that she had no mother and therefore that made her “broken” or “incomplete.” she never strove for a complete family, of course, always accepted her fate with a heavy heart, but it did hurt to think of her house as now HALF as opposed to a WHOLE.

she also fears romantic attachment and “familial” romance. i mentioned this in smaller posts on my previous blog, but it’s highly unlikely she’ll want to start a family. she’s suspicious and uncomfortable about families, especially tense when mothers are mentioned.

to summarize a few parts about her family members:

SHIMIZU TOMOMI, MOTHER

wholly free-spirited. this is part of the reason it wasn’t surprising that no explanation was given to her want to divorce. she’s impulsive and independent, with a short attention span. she’s able to pick up ideas and drop them in an instant, without regret.

extremely artistic. many of her jobs were working with various artisan trades ( paper-making, ink grinding, pottery, etc. )

bad mother. this also is in part due to her free-spiritedness. unlike many first-time mothers, tomomi didn’t worry about her daughter, or seem to treat her specially. from the beginning, she showed signs of careless neglect, or simple misunderstanding; she thought that kiyoko, a baby, would be able to feed herself as soon as she learned to walk, that she knew better than to fall or hurt herself ( and if she did, that she knew how to properly clean and bandage her injuries ).

this sparks independence early in kiyoko, driving her to learn to cook and care for herself in her mother’s absent-mindedness / otherworldly state.

when kiyoko showed signs of independence, tomomi scolded her for it. for some reason, she took it as a sign of disrespect that kiyoko wouldn’t accept her mother’s help and would do things of her own accord.

tomomi was also very superstitious, which led to a lot of problems.

she thought kiyoko was cursed. because of the discourse between them that had formed because of kiyoko’s newly generated independence and self-sufficiency, tomomi thought there must be a demonic spirit laying curses upon her, tearing mother and daughter apart. again … she believed this disrespect was a result of the curse, and that it was both incurable and genetic. kiyoko’s daughters would be cursed, as well.

tomomi had kiyoko at a young age. when her second child, akemi, was born, she stepped up her parenting game, albeit it was only a little. many of her friends were beginning to get married and have children, so she felt more pressured to become an exemplary motherly role model.

kiyoko ends up taking care of akemi, basically.

she becomes mom and sister at the same time, which is even more troubling because after tomomi divorces koichi, kiyoko feels like she has to fill both roles, being the mother-sister for akemi becomes so ingrained in her daily routine that she struggles to find a medium-ground. she’s “playing a part,” so to say, trying to manage both the motherly duties that should have been assigned to tomomi, and the sisterly duties she struggles to keep up with herself.

tomomi DOES NOT go away after the divorce. mentally, she’s scarred kiyoko. emotionally, she’s scarred kiyoko. and she often appears, not to their house, but in public. kiyoko may see her online, sometimes in town if she returns to visit family. she NEVER mentioned she had daughters after she turned her back and left.

SHIMIZU KOICHI, FATHER

he’s supportive.

he did / still does work long hours, which meant that most of the time during his marriage, he had expected his wife to watch over the children. when he came home, he was exhausted, but gave them as much attention as he possibly could, trying to keep them happy.

presently, his long hours contribute more to this “motherly” role that kiyoko has adopted, as house chores that should have been tomomi’s start to fall on her when koichi is at work. she cooks dinner, LATE so they can all eat together, cleans, and takes care of her sister.

he played soccer ! and taught kiyoko how to play ! and she beat him so much she was so good at it !

…… they stopped after the divorce, and haven’t touched the soccer ball since.

kiyoko used to be on a children’s team, but she stopped when she saw how much her father was hurting emotionally ( i’ll touch on this in the soccer headcanon, oops ! )

AFTER tomomi left, koichi found the OFF-SWITCH permanently. he is emotionally drained, starting to PHYSICALLY AGE with stress, and has simply no more spark in him. he’s dull, and lets his daughter live in his place where happiness no longer seems to be his.

and u know whta this if uck s up kiyoko so bad she hates seeing him like hes dead inside

SHIMIZU AKEMI, SISTER

all you need to know is that she’s a ball of sunshine in a relatively cloudy, dark home. she smiles for everyone. she’s not afraid or ashamed. in fact, she’s probably the proudest of her family.

she loves puzzles and she’s really good at math and trivia, because she watches trivia shows every night and has a book with a bunch of random facts in it !!

KARA DREW HER SHE HAS PIGTAILS SHE’S SO CUTE

SHIMIZU MOMOKA, AUNT FROM FATHER’S SIDE

HIGHLY independent. she constantly tells kiyoko how much she hates men for company, and that she’ll never get married, remaining a fun-loving bachelorette forever.

she was the only member of the family who seemed to stay with koichi after the divorce, while many others shut him out as a failure ( following his descent ). she stayed with the family for MONTHS after the divorce to ensure that everything ran smoothly and they would be alright on their own.

works in a job that takes her abroad to hong-kong every so often. she typically brings back candies for akemi and small trinkets for kiyoko. she spoils them.

she’s also promised that she’ll take kiyoko to hong-kong after her eighteenth birthday, to see the city. it’s a perfect thing to daydream about for kiyoko; she’s excited to spend time with her aunt whom she loves SO MUCH

could kick ur ass.

[atsinnermonologue]

...my ex from high school followed me on twitter,

...which, although unexpected, is not altogether odd, because from time to time I receive follows from people from my past. That said, it’s officially been ten years since I’ve thought of him in that way. Since the #MeToo movement a couple years ago, he has crossed my mind countless times, but I have chosen not to speak about it because it’s hard to define assault when both parties in question were fifteen and inexperienced at the time. It’s common knowledge, however, that the human brain is fully developed around your mid twenties--and as of 4 days ago, I have reached that point. Despite my ridiculous headcanon that this magical transformation occurs on an individual’s twenty-fifth birthday, I do think that I am old enough now to understand the nuances of consent and assault in ways that I was too naive to recognize before.

When I was fifteen, I landed my first real long-term boyfriend, and thus, my definition of personal boundaries was decided for me. 

-Our “dates” consisted of going to the movies, to his house, or some other private and/or dark place where we could safely make out for hours at a time. At first, it made me feel desired and normal--but it got to a certain point where he began to pressure me to progressively branch out and do other things, most of which made me uncomfortable--and the more he pressured me, the less attractive he became to me. I began wanting to go to the movies just to see a fucking movie, and nothing more. I feel knots of disgust in my stomach when he actually managed to convince me to wear pajamas with him to an evening show so I could easily fondle him. He told me not to wear a bra that day, and I listened to him because I (stupidly) thought he valued me as a person. I was not comfortable.

-He bought me nice gifts for my birthday and Christmas, and he was charming and fun to hang out with when we were with other friends and family. I sought out “friend dates” because I wanted to avoid doing sexual things with him, which could not be avoided when we were alone. I was not happy.

-But could I blame him fully for having expectations when I invited such attention? Sometimes he wanted to sext with me--because, of course, at age 15, everyone texted their significant other all day every day--and I would go along with it because it was easier than the emotional manipulation I would receive if I denied him. “Don’t you love me?” He would ask. If I didn’t respond to texts within 20 minutes or so, he would follow up, “Busy?”, almost as if I was not allowed the agency to live my own life (at least not without him having to constantly keep tabs on whatever I was doing). I was made to feel guilty if I did not constantly reassure him that I loved him and that he was the greatest thing to happen to me. I was not happy.

-Despite my naivety, I put my foot down when he tried to pressure me outright into having sex. At the time, his argument was that his best friend was having sex with his girlfriend, and they were the same age as us. I told him that we were not Jake and Emma, and I was not ready to do it. It certainly did not stop him from trying, however. Apparently sexting is the same thing as consent for actual sex, according to his logic (”you’re a tease,” he would say). I was not comfortable.

-In hindsight, I should have noticed the first red flags immediately when I met him. We were in marching band and played the same instrument, and since he was a grade above me, he would give me “tips” on what to do, chat me up during practice, and so forth. It was relatively normal and I actually thought he had a girlfriend at the time because he spent a lot of time with a particular senior girl named Liz. When we first began talking, I cannot recall if I asked him about it or if he told me unsolicited, but he admitted that they used to date and that he was trying to get away from her because it was a toxic relationship--supposedly, SHE couldn’t let go of him. A person like him could have told me a lie, but since it was cooked with half-truths, it was difficult to call him on it. I remember in our early days of dating, he would complain about her showing up to his house and yelling at him for seeing someone else. At one point, he showed me a faint white scar on his wrist--which, quite frankly, could have occurred from anything--and claimed that she had clawed him during a fight, but did not elaborate further. I was expected to believe, in the beginning of my first real relationship, that this behavior was normal and typical for below-average-looking 15-year-old boys dating 18-year-old women. I digress, but I was naive. I will forever regret not asking Liz for her side of the story. I have heard plenty of stories like mine that, incidentally, involve boys and their “crazy” exes. Something tells me that Liz was not the crazy one.

-The kicker is that he was the one who cheated on me, despite the fact that he was always so insecure about me potentially cheating on him. Once again, it is a story straight out of the toxic relationship textbook, but that didn’t make it hurt less. I was expected to forgive him because he never “did” anything with the other girl in question, other than seek out an emotional connection, which was the only thing I actually cared about at the time anyway. I am also not certain that it would NOT have turned physical, if a girl in my biology class who was friends with the other person did not tip me off first. (You don’t realize this, but that was an MVP move, Emily. Thank you.) This only happened a matter of months into the relationship, and I had debated breaking up with him for it--something I cursed myself for when I finally had the courage to do it a year later.

-I actually broke up with him twice. The first time, it was because I had stopped having romantic and sexual feelings for him long before, but he managed to guilt me into getting back together with him. It was the first and only time I recall crying at school. It was only a matter of days, but he had already spread negative propaganda about me to his posse of asshole tenth grade friends, and I never felt comfortable being around him at that point because I was not sure what he had told them. Evidently, it was bad enough that one girl in particular hated my guts (as far as I know, still does to this day) and he made sure I knew that, I guess as a punishment for having the gall to try and end what had become a very unstable and unhappy relationship. Funny enough, within those few days, he immediately entered a relationship with another girl just to get back at me, and somehow, I was supposed to be the bad guy. He was still “in a relationship” with her on Facebook--a big deal, back in 2010--when we got back together. In hindsight, I feel bad for the other girl in that situation, because he really did drop her like a sack of potatoes when there was a chance of us getting back together. In 2020, that experience tells me a lot about what he thinks about women and how they should be treated. Disposable. Lesser. Something he is entitled to.

-When I broke up with him the second time, I was fed up with his toxicity and guilt-tripping, added on top of the fact that I still did not really have feelings for him--admitting my own fault, I toyed with him towards the end because I was scared of the thought of being alone, in the off chance that nobody would ever desire me again (though he is an easy scapegoat to blame for that negative thought pattern, whether he instilled those thoughts intentionally, consciously or not). They say you learn a lot about a person based on how they treat you after a relationship ends; to that point, I knew I made the right decision. I will never forget my little sister--with whom I shared a combative and competitive relationship with, at the time--telling me that he was tweeting negative things about me nonstop knowing that it would alter other people’s perception of me and ruin my reputation, when I did not even have my own Twitter account to defend myself with. Unfortunately for me, he had managed to infiltrate my friend group when we were together, and as such, he felt comfortable staying friends with some of my friends, and he used those relationships as leverage to belittle me, drag my name through the mud, and generally make fun of me all in the name of “joking around.” High school is terrible precisely because this type of behavior was acceptable, but my aggravated retort, “This is why I dumped you!” was somehow crossing the line. You cannot back a wild animal into a corner and not expect it to bite you. Despite the fact that we broke up during my sophomore year, he still acted in this way until we graduated. Somehow, he felt he had the right to speak his opinion on my relationships with other guys (”they’re awkward together,” he told a mutual friend about someone I dated during my junior year, as if his input was supposed to hold any water). If he was in love with me--and I am sure he was, despite his toxic way of showing it--he never really got over it. Straight white men sometimes really do deserve their reputation for being nasty when rejected.

-I found out months after we dated that he was a habitual cigarette and weed smoker, which I was adamantly against at the time. I partake in the latter these days, but I am still morally opposed to the former, because it killed two of my grandparents and will surely contribute to future health problems with my parents, as well. I won’t get into it, but it is a big deal for me and it always has been. He was aware of this at the time and still hid it from me, rather than quitting for his own health, and it only fuels the flames of rage that burn within me when I think about how deceitful he was. I am disgusted with how easily tricked because I did not know better, and moreover, that he knew I was naive and took advantage of it.

-Everything we ever did together, sexually, was a result of his pressuring me and wearing me down to eventually accepting certain things, despite my obvious fear, hesitation, and even disgust. We were both kids at the time, but we were old enough to understand basic human emotion and he was certainly aware of how I felt about it. He did not care. He was always a selfish person who prioritized his own needs over mine (and other women’s as well, I suspect). I am thankful that I managed to stave off sex and “save” my virginity for someone who really deserved it--though to be clear, I believe virginity is an archaic and sexist concept that really holds no ground in our post-modern society, but I digress--the point is, really, that I CHOSE to have sex when I was ready to do so, and even with all of its faults, this ancient relationship cannot take that away from me. It certainly gave me an unhealthy view about my own body and consent, which contributed to problems in other relationships, but thankfully, I am now with someone who respects me and my needs, as well as his own. The bar is on the floor when it comes to relationships, unfortunately, because I notice that basic human decency and respect are not required or expected. In fact, these qualities are praised as a “bonus” rather than a given, and that truly sickens me.

-I am talking about all of this because I have a lot of pent-up feelings I need to let out. In my first-ever post on this blog, I was conscious of not blaming the other person I was talking about because I recognize the complexity of human relationships and perspective, but I don’t necessarily feel that it applies in this scenario. Truthfully, I don’t care if I am dragging this person’s name through the mud and/or blaming him for all of these issues, because now that I am older and have little to no emotional attachment to the situation, I can view it clearly, at least from my perspective, and understand that a lot of the issues that arose were a result of hypocrisy, disrespect, and gaslighting on his part. I will admit that I was not faultless, either--I took advantage of his obsession with me and dragged the relationship out for far too long because I liked the power--but for the most part, I can understand that I was a victim of emotional abuse, even if he was not completely conscious of the negative effects his behavior was having on me. Surely by the time he was a senior in high school, however, he was aware and yet still continued his toxic, shitty behavior, so I am bound to give him less leeway in terms of perspective. I cannot honestly imagine a scenario in which a 15-year-old girl deserves to be guilted and pressured into sex when she has repeatedly said she is uncomfortable with it. I cannot imagine a scenario in which it’s okay to ruin someone’s reputation and mental wellbeing because you are personally hurt by their decision to end a relationship (which, might I add, was not particularly harsh in terms of the actual breakup, if I remember correctly, which I think I do).

-About a week ago, this ex of mine followed me on Twitter after having had no account for the last few years. I followed him back because I have hardly no followers as is, and it’s a number for me--but I don’t necessarily need to justify it either because we don’t speak regularly and I had no reason to think anything would come of it. However, almost immediately after I followed back, he DMed me to ask how I was doing. I sent a generic message back the next morning, but to this day it appears he has not been on the account since the day he messaged me, because he didn’t accept any more follow requests (he’s a private account) and he did not tweet, like, or respond to anything or anyone since. It’s actually a bit cryptic because it seems like he only created the account to post a handful of strange drunken tweets and then never look back. Most of the tweets were akin to “anyone want to chill? DM me” and random strings of words that don’t make any sense. His avi is presumably a recent photo of him, considering the fact that his hairline is halfway up his scalp. I will not lie--I took pleasure in noticing that. When I noticed that he did not access the account after that first day, I checked his likes to see if he was active, and honestly, that was the thing that triggered my fight-or-flight response. He has always been an emotional person, to the point that I’ve always felt he was more “girlish” (excuse the misogynistic term) than me, so I was not surprised by the weird tweets, but I WAS surprised by the fact that the only two tweets he liked were from c*m girls posting photos of themselves in lingerie with a paragraph of SW-related hashtags. I won’t flatter myself by the coincidence that both women looked a lot like me, but I couldn’t help but notice it. Maybe he’s living rent free in my head, but I still blame him for it. Anyways, all this did was prove the inevitable, which is that boys like him become men of the same breed, only markedly worse because they do not have the excuse of youth and hormones.

-I plan to give it a few more days to see if he logs into the account (I am a fan of the “infiltration” technique when it comes to learning about people through their online presence). If there is no activity, I fully plan to block him, because I don’t see a reason why his pathetic number is worth the association with my own Twitter account. It is clear his behavior will never change--he will always feel entitled to women and their bodies--but maybe one day I will have the courage to expose him for real, to people who actually know him. Maybe one day people will understand where I’m coming from, rather than assuming I am the villainous bitch he claimed I was. Maybe I am the “Liz” to another one of his more recent exes. I wouldn’t be surprised.

All I know is that I feel validated by my teenage emotions after analyzing them as an adult, especially after seeing other women coming out about their experiences as well. It is clear that women can be equals on paper, but they witness and endure things every day that will never be understood by men. It’s as plain and simple as that. That same ideology goes for people of color in general (Black folks in particular) as well as LGBTQ+ folks and other minorities, but I won’t get on that soapbox now. Tomorrow is another day, however.

Venting is exhausting. I’m glad I didn’t handwrite all of this.

[newyorkisartsyfartsy]

Arts & Culture Final

By: Courtney Tapper

Taylor Swift is Stuck in the Past

Taylor Swift’s repetitious song themes and outdated female perspectives render her unfavorable.

           First it was “Love Story” and “You Belong with Me”. Then it was “Forever & Always” and “Fifteen”. Then, “Mine” and “The Story Of Us”. Song after song. Boy after boy. Relationship after relationship. For her first few songs, the music of Taylor Swift was catchy and it felt relatable as an average girly middle school-aged teen. Now, I think it’s outdated. While there will always be songs about relationships and break ups and heart ache, I just think there is more to not only music but life, than just how sad a boy made you feel.

           Starting her music career as a country artist, Taylor Swift immediately did not appeal to me. As one who thinks country music is generally very redundant in terms of instrumental usage, song topics, and the voices of various country artists, Swift did not stand out to me.

           Then, as she started to gain success in the pop genre, I began to hear her more often whether it was on the radio, shopping in stores, or my friends’ 16thbirthday parties. But the constant, “woe is me” attitude that permeates a majority of her music simply could not resonate with me as enjoyable or influential.

           In “This Love”, Swift sings about a love that she has never felt before and how this bond is the strongest she has ever known. That alone, can create a great piece of music. It’s real, has passion, and it’s something people can relate to. But lyrics like “Lanterns burning, flickered in the mind only you/But you were still gone, gone, gone/Been losing grip, on sinking ships/You showed up, just in time” imply that she was completely consumed by this one person and him “showing up just in time” is what saved her from a potential life of misery. While love can definitely be all consuming and life can seem miserable without the person you love, I don’t exactly feel that the message she is trying to portray is admirable.

           The idea that you were about to crumble before the man finally stepped in and swooped you off your feet just shows that her happiness relied heavily on the reciprocated love of her partner. Which I don’t think is healthy in any sort of relationship. Particularly, in a world where women are still being treated as less than to men (in numerous ways) and are constantly having to prove that they are equal, a song like this just really sets back the work women are doing to become independent and powerful beings. Many of her songs share similar storylines to this one where the man holds the power, which frankly just do not work in favor of the progression of women.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuNIsY6JdUw&list=PL1CbxROoA2JiVzg9zu_AkVHZR9S8mHhzh

Question #2:

Influence Beyond Music

Bob Marley’s popularity in the reggae community enables him to show his strengths in other areas

Growing up in a Jamaican family, it’s pretty much impossible to listen to music in the house without hearing Bob Marley at some point. As one of main artists who brought reggae into mainstream popularity, Bob Marley truly has made a name for himself in the music community. Creating the Wailers (a music group comprised of Marley and his friends) he was able to become one of the most beloved artists of the reggae genre.

           Marley’s childhood friend, nicknamed “Bunny” inspired Marley to learn how to play the guitar, as they both shared a love for music. The two ended up living together some time later in Kingston, Jamaica. Arriving in Kingston in the late 1950s, Marley lived in Trench Town, one of the city's poorest neighborhoods. He struggled in poverty, but he found inspiration in the music around him. Trench Town had a number of successful local performers and was considered the “Motown of Jamaica”. Marley liked, and found influence from, such artists as Ray Charles, Elvis Presley, Fats Domino, and the Drifters.

           The first time I heard Bob Marley I was at my grandparents’ house. I always recognized his voice since it was his music that was played the most out of the reggae artists they would listen to. But the first song that caught my attention was one of his more popular songs, “Three Little Birds”. The song brought such peace and joy to my family because of its positive lyricism. Lyrics like “Don’t worry about a thing/Cause every little thing is gonna be alright” reminded us that no matter what struggled we were going through, worrying is not a solution and everything in fact will be alright. Between the relaxed vibes that reggae often gives off already, with such a carefree and easygoing message, this song would bring peace all around.

           One of my favorite songs as a kid “Buffalo Soldier”, while it has the same catchy and relaxed essence of his other songs. The meaning behind this song brings light to a major issue. When I was younger, I had no idea what a buffalo soldier. As I grew older and decided to do research, I learned that these were a segregated regiment of black cavalry fighters during the American campaign to rid the West of "Indians" so that colonizers could take the lands from Native Americans. Ironically, many of the soldiers were slaves taken from Africa.

           While Bob Marley unfortunately passed away in 1981 from cancer that quickly spread throughout his body, his legacy lives on. While Bob Marley’s musical strides have influenced my taste in music, I also have been impacted by his actions of peace. His organization, the Bob Marley Foundation, is a great example of his devotion to helping others, especially those from developing nations. In June of 1978, he was awarded Peace Medal of the Third World from the United Nations. Also, in February of 1981, he was awarded the Jamaican Order of Merit. His philosophies as a man of peace and equality are characteristics that I not only admired, but that I strive to exude today.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMUQMSXLlHM

Fun But Serious #1

Music with a Message

During the music unit of the semester, we spoke about what makes good music, what makes it successful, and what makes certain music appeal to certain people. Personally, I have always loved music that makes me feel something. If the music itself doesn’t make me feel a certain way but the lyrics do, I’ll probably like it. If the lyrics don’t really make me feel a certain way but the music does, I’ll probably like it. If the music and the lyrics both make me feel something, then I’ll probably love it.

           That’s exactly what “We the People…” by A Tribe Called Quest, does for me. It has both. From a musical standpoint the rap song has a consistent drum beat in the background, creating a sort of style and momentum that makes me enjoy it right off the bat. The song also takes time to completely syncopate the tempo in which catches you by surprise and then throws you right back into the same rhythm that you became comfortable with. The sound of what one can presume to be police sirens during the song, also creates an atmosphere of context and setting as to where this type of music is taking place – which for me created a musical experience that is much more wholesome.

           As for lyricism, the song is very political. As a commentary on society and the numerous inequalities that can be found just about anywhere, the creative boundaries of this song are definitely pushed in the best way. With lines like, “All you Black folks, you must go/All you Mexicans, you must go/And all you poor folks, you must go/Muslims and gays/Boy, we hate your ways/So all you bad folks, you must go,” many different marginalized groups are recognized in this song. It leaves you thinking, “can they say that?” or “was that too far?” Song like this, that is so brutally truthful they can make people, is the epitome of art to me. With an ironic title like “We the People”, the group starts by mocking the very the document that our society is based on and proceeds to explain how the ideas of it are not being followed and how times have drastically changed.

Fun But Serious #1

Growth in Knowledge of Reporting on Arts & Culture

           At the start of the semester, I was very much under the impression that I did not know much about the arts and culture world. In terms of reporting, I was very unfamiliar as to how to go about that sort of reporting style, but I was much more familiar with the arts than I believed. In terms of music, I have a pretty interesting view of what makes good music where I’m not completely stuck on one group, artist or genre. I think my variety in music taste worked to my benefit in that unit.

As for film and television my knowledge was definitely lacking, as I truly have not seen many recent films of television programs. When I consume visual media, it is often through YouTube, Netflix, or it is an older film that I had seen before. Being able to be introduced to films in class that are more recent, I was able to see the growth in the film industry and was convinced that there are some movies I would love to see.

           As for theater, I have always had a love of theater and other performing arts. Having a class where I was required to see a show was not only fun but also very educational. I was able to enjoy a production that I wanted to see, but then was able to look at it in a different way with the tools that I had learned and analyze it from a more educated lens.

           Overall, I think arts and culture reporting was a medium that I always enjoyed reading but never thought I would write about. But during this semester, I’ve been able to learn a lot more about what it takes to write in that specific medium and that it is something I might be interested in writing about for the future. The semester has made writing about arts and culture more tangible and less of a sort of unrealistic stretch.