#no pity or sympathy required

[rainydayathogwarts]

James Potter - Jealousy, jealousy

Summary: You kiss Lucius to make James jealous since he was too slow at making a move... wc: 800 ish

James thought that the best way to approach a new relationship - or rather the girl he liked - was by taking it slow. At least, that was the lesson he'd learned with Lily, who got easily tired of his attempts to woo her. But now, as he sat with Remus and Sirius in the Room of Requirements, the party blasting around them, he realised that maybe that wasn't what you wanted.

How did he know?

Well, one could argue that by the way you had your hand on Lucius Malfoy's chest, your own chest brushing up against his while you fluttered your eyes at him, you preferred that men had a more straight-forward approach with you. "Mate you've got to stop staring that hard." Commented Sirius, handing him another drink. James mumbled something incoherent under his breath, interrupted by Remus adding on "You're going to burn holes right through her tits." James broke his gaze from you, turning abruptly to look at Remus "I'm not staring at her tits, I just- I know she likes me back so why? Why him?"

He barely heard Marlene laugh from beside him, patting his shoulder with fake sympathy "Oh yeah, I wonder, why him? It's almost as though she's trying to make you jealous or something." She paused while watching James' face, and when she got no look of realisation from it, she sighed, continuing "You know, because you hate him?"

James shook his head "No, she wouldn't do that." There was a moment of silence during which a soundless conversation between Marlene and Remus was taking place. James saw Marlene shrug her shoulders at Remus from the corner of his eye, spinning on her heels and walking away from the three boys, leaving the problem solving to them. He furrowed his eyebrows, watching as the hand you had on Lucius's chest begun to trail upwards until it rested on the nape of his neck. With horror, his eyes followed Lucius's hand which dragged up your side to rest on your jaw, keeping your head tilted upwards to look at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

It was as though everything went in slow motion, the music tuning out and the background blurring, James's gaze only set on you and Lucius fucking Malfoy, who was now lowering his face down so he could press his lips against yours. James could almost hear the satisfactory sigh you let out as you got onto your tippy toes, pressing yourself up against his mortal enemy.

Remus's pat on the back was almost enough to make up for Sirius's loud pitiful groan, but the embarrassment of the situation had him marching straight up to you and Malfoy, who he shoved away from you with full force. You squealed in shock, looking at Lucius, who had taken a tumble to the ground and back at James whose eyes were burning with rage and jealousy. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from spreading on your face, instead looking up at the boy with doe eyes. "Out, now." Lucius was now stood up, frantically brushing his hair out of his eyes, but before he could retaliate at James, you were halfway across the room, blindly following him out into the dimly lit hallway.

On your way out, you caught Remus's eye, and he grinned at you, shaking his head in fake disapproval. Once you were alone in the hallway, you barely got the chance to look up at James before he was mimicking his earlier actions towards Lucius on you, pushing you against the wall so he could kiss you roughly. You moaned in shock, hands instantly travelling to the back of James's neck so you could pull him closer while returning the kiss.

James was panting when he pulled away from you, his big hands on your shoulders, pressing you against the wall to keep you from stepping closer to him. "Now fucking explain to me why you were kissing Lucius Malfoy." Your jaw went slack at the dominance in James' usually light-hearted voice and you stuttered, nearly forgetting about your plan to play dumb. "I don't- I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah Potter," A voice interrupted, making you both turn around to face it. "If she wants to go around kissing me, I think we should all let her." Continued Lucius, stepping deeper into the corridor. You sighed, turning back to face James, whose hands were still on you, but was facing Lucius with a look of disgust on his face. You knew what you had to do. You put your hands on James's face so he instinctively looked at you, and you pulled him forward so you could kiss him again, effectively getting both Lucius away from you and James to forget that you were kissing him mere minutes ago.

[writingwithcolor]

Dark features/people as blessed, white and light people as sick

ladyoftheseastuff asked:

I'm writing a fantasy story where the world is permanently covered in snow & ice. The people share a common culture & are loyal to their city states, but they are not homogeneous in appearance; there will be many, many characters coded as PoC. The main religion centers on the sun, & those with dark features are 'favoured' by the sun god, while pale people or anyone who has white/blonde hair are thought vulnerable to "snow sickness", a disease caused by environmental factors (1/2) & have other rules and customs to gain religious approval. It's dangerous & infectious but not well understood. It affects social standing and opportunities, but it's meant to be tied with ideas of youth, vitality, & fear of aging & sickness: it's not limited to those coded as white. This is a cultural detail and not part of the main conflict, but I want to avoid unintentional allegories/parallels & fetishization. Is this a concept that's too close to crossing any of those lines? (2/2)

This feels less like a means to show dark skinned people in an empowering light and more like a weak attempt at subversion. My primary concern (which you have not specified) is how do the "blessed" class treat the "sickly" so to speak. We have fantasy stories like The Grisha Trilogy and Girls of Paper and Fire, which deal with magical ability/feature-based segregation and conflict.

In both cases there is a sense of entitlement which comes with hailing from the "favoured" class, quite obvious, since there will always be an inherent othering metaphor whenever you create such a division, whether it was meant to be a source of conflict or not.

However, the two mentioned series use the "magical people are blessed, non magical people are to be pitied" arc which is somewhat more subtle than divisions created just on the basis of skin colour.

Disclaimer as I do not have albinism or vitiligo: The latter can be extremely harmful, and not just in a racial context, but in cases of albinism, vitiligo etc.

~Mod Mimi

The pitfalls of subversions

While it is always lovely to see dark features considered in a favorable way, there are some issues you may come across. Such a story could easily end up dressing those you wished to uphold as bad guys in the readers' eyes, even if the story's society and the sun god etc. thinks they're amazing, and white and light people as the victims of dark people, deserving reader sympathy. This may especially be the case based on how these groups get treated in the story.

These sort of subversions lean dangerously into "reverse discrimination" plots which are not overall accurate or favorable allegories for your real, human audience. There being diversity on both sides doesn't necessary fix this issue or remove racial or ethnic implications. On that note, and as Mimi mentioned, being demonized and ostracized particularly for skin and genetic disorders like albinism is already a thing. What does your concept say of them?

I think Dark/Black as good and Light/white as bad is a doable concept. Your concept differs a bit from simply subverting black/white tropes. This is not just Black good guys and night skies being peaceful or neutral. It's not just white/light villains (as opposed to victims) or snow symbolling death or sickness.

White and light people are quite blatantly being declared as sick and unfavored and they may very well be victims in the reader's eye with the dark people being the villainous, unsympathetic bunch. Is this your intention?

More to consider

Such a concept requires thoughtful, careful planning and intentional writing. You should have an understanding of what your story implies to the readers and the real-life takeaways.

I think it's possible to make dark skin the favored skin of the sun god without it meaning white/light people stand in a negative light and are sick or unworthy.

Consider what it is that you like about the concept of your story. Can you keep the essence of whatever it is that excites you about your ideas, without denying a whole group of people favor? If not, how will you go about telling such a tale that is not meant to symbolize a sort of reversal of roles discrimination?

Why does the sun god get to determine what is good?

Are there other gods that might have different strong opinions? Perhaps who is favored varies by time of day, season, region, culture, god?

Can dark skin get its favor without white and light features being deemed unfavorable as a whole?

How big of a deal does this favor have to be? I advise reconsidering it being the point of discrimination to white/light people for all the reasons already described.

No matter the directions you go, please research and get the appropriate beta-readers for feedback on the in-depth concepts and story.

~Mod Colette

[quarterlifekitty]

Letterboxd: Ghost

this is just a little series I'm starting about characters watching movies, and which movies make them point at the screen and go "look, that's us lol". This ended up MUCH SADDER than I thought it would.

cw: spoilers to the listed movies. graphic description of violence (description of the events within the movies), sort of a dive into Ghost's dark thoughts concerning your relationship.

Frankenhooker (1990)- Ghost does not think you know how completely fucked up and beyond saving he would be if something happened to you. He would lose whatever remains of his ability to discern right from wrong. Which is why he thinks Elizabeth Shelley and Jeffrey Franken are so cute! If you died and there weren't enough pieces to put you back together, he would definitely kill a bunch of hookers to make you a new body. And he likes to think you would do the same for him.

Saw (2004)- The original gay bathroom. Something about the relationship between Lawrence and Adam just gets to him. He would do way more than just saw off his foot if it meant saving you.

The Fly (1986)- Simon sometimes wonders if this relationship is held together by your pity for him. If all this time, you've been watching him lash out and degrade and it fills you with disgust and sympathy, and that's the only reason why you put up with him. He wonders if you're waiting for the day that he doesn't come home. He wonders if his desire for a family with you is born of the desperation for self preservation-- if a child from the two of you is the only way to preserve the piece of him that's still human, to prove that it ever existed once it's stripped from him like everything else. Also, every time he does something for you that requires a lot of raw strength he totally says "could a sick man do this?". He knows it's not a direct quote but it's close enough.

Prometheus (2012)- David 8 and Elizabeth Shaw. He feels like sometimes you're the only one outside the taskforce who sees him as a person. He's spent his entire life being used by people who see him as a machine. Sometimes, when he's feeling despondent and selfish, he feels like he would gladly poison the entire world so that you were the only ones left. And no, he never got around to watching Alien Covenant, so he doesn't know that David cuts off Shaw's head and did genetic experiments on it and keeps it as some sort of flayed souvenir in his study. Don't tell him.

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)- Besides the obvious connection to the title, sometimes Ghost feels like your love wasn't meant to be. That he's holding you back. That you met at the wrong time, in the wrong lifetime, maybe. That maybe you could be happy together for real in your next lives. That it would be best if he left you be.

What I'm saying is that he does cry when you watch movies occasionally. Very rarely, he hastens to point out.

[spiritseeeker]

This singular frame was all it took to undo my very extreme hatred of Adam, Vivienne Medrano how dare you make me feel sympathy for this man-

Like, Adam before this scene? A blatant misogynist and a hypocrite who unabashedly revels in sinners' suffering. A guy who has no regard for anyone else, and who pisses pretty much every viewer off with patronizing jabs like "sorry sweetie" and "try to chillax, babe." Ugh, disgusting.

As the first man, it seems like he got an easy pass into Heaven. Maybe the angels were just saving face, given that their core pair of humans both took the fruit of knowledge of good and evil willingly, ordaining Adam on the technicality that "Eve did it first." But I think we can all agree that it was not on the merit of Adam's virtue.

And then Charlie draws blood during their fight in Episode 8, and, for the first time, Adam genuinely realizes he can be hurt. Like, for the first time in the duration of the show, in his entire fucking existence, someone shows him that he is not, in fact, an all-powerful symbol of power and superiority. He's just a guy with privilege who is just as vulnerable, just as flawed, just as human as the rest of them.

But once the mask is shattered, revealing the rather unexceptional man underneath, does Adam back down? Of course not—he doubles down. There's nothing worse than a narcissist who is virtually incapable of seeing the error of their ways, even when they're clearly backed into a corner. Bruised and bloody, he bellows that he's THE man; everybody should worship him.

For me, that pretty much hit the nail in the coffin. There was no redeeming a character like Adam (ironic, since he's one of the few characters in the show not in need of redemption).

So isn't it fitting, then, that his death didn't happen in some grand display requiring all of Lucifer or Charlie's might? Isn't it fitting that Adam falls to Niffty—not Lucifer, not an overlord, but a common sinner, who sees him as nothing more than a foot soldier that needs to be eliminated, a pest as easily squashed as a roach? For someone as self-aggrandizing as Adam, this has to be one of the most humiliating ways to die. The perfect end for an insufferable antagonist.

But nooo, Vivziepop didn't end it there.

Because INSTEAD, we hear Lute's heart-wrenching screams as she realizes that Adam has just been defeated; we see the look on her tear-streaked face when it registers just how badly he's been injured. The fear in her eyes at the prospect of living in a world without the angel she idolizes, the man she serves.

She's not concerned that she's just lost her arm, or that Vaggie is standing right there. In that moment, the only person in Hell is Adam, and all she wants is for him to stay with her.

Adam could have easily dismissed her feelings entirely. He could have spent his last breath hurling one last insult at Lucifer, getting the satisfaction of having the last word before his death. He could have thrown himself a pity party and cursed his fate.

Instead, this greedy, selfish, murderous fiend has the audacity to see Lute in his field of vision and flash her one last, tender smile.

We don't know for sure what Adam was thinking in this shot, but personally, I think it was something along the lines of I lost. Proud of you, Lute. I'll miss you. Goodbye.

Whatever his final thoughts are, we can surmise from his expression alone that he's accepted his fate, and that he's grateful his last seconds alive are locking eyes with someone who's important to him. Someone he cares about.

And THAT—that was enough to crack through that thick shell of hatred I'd developed for Adam and shatter it like the mask he wore for seven and a half episodes of the show. THAT 8-second moment was enough to make me reconsider my stance on Adam as an irredeemable villain.

(CURSE YOU, VIVIENNE!!!)

Does this scene cancel out all the heinous things Adam does throughout Season 1? All the lives he destroys, all the pain he causes to thousands upon thousands of souls? Absolutely not. But it does change my perception of Adam from "obnoxious egomaniac with no self-awareness" to "obnoxious egomaniac with no self-awareness that is a product of the flawed system he perpetuates."

And, I gotta wonder, what would Adam have been like if Heaven had been different?

[kevinsdsy]

“sometimes riko let kevin stay with him afterward.”

kevin’s gaze moved over jean in a slow sweep, taking stock of his injuries. jean knew better than to look for anger in his stare; the best kevin could manage was bottomless guilt. kevin had seen worse than this before. sometimes riko let kevin stay with him afterward.

jean could barely breathe. every short breath he took required so much effort that he didn't know how he normally did it with such ease. he felt like he was dying, but that was such a familiar feeling that he worried he must wake up tomorrow anyway. kevin’s green eyes were as distracting as they were alarming. if kevin was allowed to stay, jean must be looking like hell right now. he counted his breaths just to make sure he was actually breathing, and when he finally convinced himself he wasn’t going to take his last breath, he tried to get up.

he barely managed it, but with kevin’s help he was able to get himself up into a sitting position. kevin’s expression was as familiar as it was sickening. he had seen the bottomless guilt many times before.

i am jean moreau. i belong to the moriyamas. i will endure. jean knew his place. jean knew he would endure as much as riko needed him to. so why was kevin looking at him like that? how did kevin dare look at him with so much sympathy and guilt on his face that jean wondered if he deserved to be in this position. i am jean moreau. i belong to the moriyamas. i will endure. jean immediately cursed himself out for even letting the thought slip.

“jean…” jean huffed—it was the only response he could manage right now. “can you get up?” kevin silently asked in french. non. jean knew the answer already, but he still tried to get up. it was a desperate attempt, but kevin didn’t comment on it. “let’s get you to the wall. it’s just gonna be a few steps.” kevin assured him. the few steps felt like a mile, but with kevin’s help jean managed to place his back to the wall which gave him some kind of balance. kevin sat next to jean and jean turned his face to kevin. kevin took this as his chance to softly take jean’s face in his hands and place his fingers on jean’s bottom lip. jean hadn’t even realised the familiar bitter taste on his lip was his own blood until he saw kevin’s hand. he sighed at the sight, turning his face away from kevin again to force his face out of his hands. “i don’t need your pity.” jean weakly demanded.

“so, what is it you need?” kevin asked. jean huffed; both kevin and jean knew it didn’t matter what he needed. it was an unfair question to ask, since it’d be impossible to consider his needs in the first place. jean wouldn’t even know what he needed; he had never given it much thought anyways.

jean placed his head on kevin’s shoulder. for a second he was thankful that the amount of pain he was in made it impossible for him to cry without increasing the pain in his lungs, so he didn't move and he didn't let any tears slip.

“how long?” jean asked after a long minute. kevin didn’t have to ask what he meant. it wasn’t the first time they were sitting like this, calculating how much time riko would allow them before losing his patience and temper again. “fifteen minutes, maybe, then he’ll start getting restless and annoyed about my soft behaviour towards you.”

“give me ten,” jean offered. that should give kevin enough time to get back to riko before riko would start itching for pain again.

“i’ll give you twenty,” kevin told him. "you need it."

jean knew he should ignore the peace offering so he could make check how bad his injuries actually were. instead he closed his eyes and let kevin softly nudge him awake when he was finally drifting away too far.

[thegoogoomuckkk]

head over heels -> Kiyotaka just can't stand it when pretty girl wears heels for him, so he kneels

it wasn’t easy for him, you didn’t make it easy for him. he loved you, of course, adored you, was obsessed with you. he was head over heels fallen for you. but oh how you tortured him, it was all too easy for you.

he was already blushing when you walked out of your bedroom all made up just for him in a dress, makeup all done. he was already averting his eyes when you leaned over in the car to kiss his cheek & whisper “where to, kiyo?” he was already tapping his leg & shifting his pants as the waiter left to grab your menus & lead you to your seat. so when he feels just the slightest bit of pressure coming from the toe of your heels on his already hardened cock, he all but moans in the dim light of the restaurant, holding himself back at the last moment. he covers his mouth with the back of his hand, biting the skin there to ground himself.

“y/n,” he sputters out as you continue to grind your shoe against his aching cock, “what’re you—what?” it’s as coherent as he can manage to be, but you understand. why are you torturing him like this? he’s been a good boy for you, always such a good boy for you, he doesn’t deserve to be punished like this.

but you & him both know it’s not a punishment. this is how he likes it, though you’d have to really torture him to get that information. “what do you mean, kiyo?” you coo, playing clueless. “are you okay?”

god, he’s about three seconds from dying of embarrassment. you push your foot down hard, harder than he’s used to & he yelps, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“ngh—don-don’t tease me, please.” he’s always such a good beggar, even sentences that don’t require a please & thank you always get one.

“do you need to go to the bathroom, kiyo?” & he looks genuinely confused, but his face turns to pure devastation when you remove your foot completely, sliding out of your booth & offering him your hand.

anyone who sees you might think kiyotaka was about to fuck the living daylights out of his girlfriend in the bathroom, but little did they know, he’d be kneeling on the cold tile with your heel returning to his dick grinding up & down, fingers shoved down his throat until drool is dripping down his chin onto his slacks, cumming embarrassingly quickly into his briefs.

but then it was your turn to kneel; refractory period who? you didn’t care. you’d kitten lick him & drag your nails from tip to balls until he was hard again, which took no time at all. & there’s nothing kiyo can do but whine & whimper as you tease your tongue around his tip, trailing it down with the lightest of pressure. he’s putty in your hands, legs literally shaking as you throat his cock deep & it’s all “too much, love, s’too much, please, can’t take it.” poor kiyo, but you just can’t find sympathy for him. maybe pity, you think, as he whines when your lips leave his cock with a loud ‘pop.’

“you can, kiyo. you will,” & it’s not a threat, not a punishment, just a promise. you make him take it, sucking him as deep as you can take him, squeezing his balls in the palm of your hand, nails digging painfully into the tender skin, finger sneaking up his taint to his puckered hole, & you’ve barely got a finger in him before his cumming down your throat, & you’re swallowing it all.

“please, oh please, please, m’cumming, cumming, please,” he’s babbling he’s please’s & thank you’s, breathing heavy, whimpers cracking through his throat, nails digging into his palms.

he’s so nervous when you stand up with a stern expression. “you promised you’d take me out to dinner, kiyo. aren’t you gonna eat?”

kiyo baby <3 did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[ohsayit]

Zevlor the Stubborn Cow

I wanted to write some AA, but my brain wouldn't shut up about Zevlor. I am sorry, but, here, take this [hands out a fresh load of gibberish]

My brain has been thinking about him breaking(losing?) his oath and how does that work in DnD. As per usual, a quick Google will give me a mixed result of pre 5E, 5E, and BG3 world. So I am going to do my pick-and-choose.

Again, it's related to Act 2 spoilers. Feel free to take a look at the video or my other gibberish post.

I don't have any save close to Last Light, so I youtube searched for the conversation with tieflings there. I found two conversation with the same scout. This one is before rescuing Zevlor. This one is after the player rescued him.

From the outside, to Zevlor's fellow exiles, he looked like he froze and then broke. They wouldn't forgive him for breaking that image of "Commander Zevlor". They also wouldn't forgive him for leading them to death (which imo is hardly his fault).

I have been digging at the FR wiki. I looked up Hellrider, Helm, Ilmater, paladin, and oathbreaker. This round of digging (plus the pick and choose) give me some painful hc's.

Despite we as player can just "choose" what class to play as, paladin isn't as common as we may feel like.

First HC at this point: Zevlor wanted to do good from a young age. He looked up at Hellriders and dreamed to enlist. He made it. Through sweat and blood, he climbed up to the position of Commander. Hard to say how religious he is, but he adhered to his oath at least till Avernus. I believe the patron deity was Helm: the god of guardians and protectors. Which this says the nature of Zevlor's character: he lives to protect.

According to wiki, paladins are not that common because their religious nature. They require a patron deity, an oath, and devine favour. Gods favour those think and act like them. Gods favour those who are exceptional to be their champion. Zevlor was just that good.

So here is my second HC: the things he lost and his feeling of lost is unfathomable. He that lost his people in Avernus, his home where he belonged to, his pride as a Hellrider (it was stripped off him), and the devine favour of power (my HC is he lost it around the time when Elturel came back to the Material Plane. Latest by the time he was exiled). He lost "Zevlor".

If there are other tiefling paladins, they probably feel him. If someone is close to him but not a paladin, they maybe can sympathis but won't understand fully the impact. The others? Best bet they pity him. A more realistic guess is: they only see the Commander. Civilians and Riders alike.

Hence, the scout in the video wouldn't forgive him. Zevlor did too much for these people. He did too well in holding himself up and deliver. None of them knew their "commander" was already broken.

Now, imagine when he was first told to leave. All the tieflings were told to go at the same time. Given his oath was already broken and he was no longer a Hellrider (officially/bureaucraticly speaking), those civilians were no longer his responsibility.

He led them from Eltruel through the whatever danger and reached the Grove. These people were a burden, in a sense. These people couldn't fight and they even had children with them. It couldn't be easier if he only took his fellow with him.

When the Absolute tempted/enthrall him, from the description, the situation intrigued me. Out of all those people, the Absolute only spoke to Zevlor. This say to me Zevlor is still worthy, out of this whole bunch of scrambled together refugee. The Absolute read his mind and used it against himself.

Also, they were being ambushed. They were most likely outnumbered. If surrender could save a few lives, he would definitely consider it. But of course that didn't work out. So people hated him guts for it. Being ambushed wasn't his fault. However, people took "failed to preserve lives and repell enemy" as his fault.

One more thing was, none of them knew what they were against. They knew nothing about the Brain. In Zevlor's dialogue in Act 2, he referred to the Brain as "their false god". Gods in DnD world is a real thing. They mistakened it for that.

"Whatever these monsters twisted us into, I believe it begins in us. I won't make excuses. I can't make amends."

Yes it begins in you because it literally read your bloody mind. It doesn't only whisper into your head, it alters your perception as well. When the player first crash landed on the beach, that one stranded squid showed us that. The player felt "compassion". It was from the squid. Nothing "begin in us".

Yet, Zevlor had no idea what he was against so he took it as all his own fault. Uugggghhhhhh babe!!!!!!

He said he wasn't strong enough. As if he could have faugh it off. No. Nobody could. Without Orpheus, the player would transform way before Act 3. No one can out brain a literal brain.

The sad thing is, nobody knew that. Not even the player character, at that point in the game.

So they abandoned him. The people he protected with his own live, abandoned him a second time. This time, his fellow Riders abandoned him too.

Fast forward to the epilogue. He sent a letter say he regained power and didn't even know what oath was.

Here is my last HC for this post. I think he sworn on the Oath of Devotion. It was Ilmater who granted him power.

Wiki says: deity of endurance, martyrdom, perseverance, and suffering. The Crying God was the patron of the suffering, oppressed, and persecuted, and the One Who Endures encouraged them to endure and encouraged others to help them by taking their burdens or places.

Had Zevlor not suffered enough? Yet, when he saw the tantecles sprouted in city, what did he felt? "No fear. Only Anger. Disgust. Purpose - and with it, power." After all this shit he had been through, the stubborn cow still wanted to protect. I think this is why Ilmater chose him.

Don't get me wrong, he is far from a flawless saint. This is juat a part of him that I see. A stubborn cow. I want kiss and bite our precious old man. Pinch his face so hard and then kiss him better. [Insert aggressive borking]

Note: I finished the post in haste. Will edit later for typos and put links back in for wikis I digged for this round. I want this post out of my system so I can write some bloody AA ffs.

Edit: Put links back in lol

[ca-suffit]

Observations from yesterday about this fandom's racism problems:

It took over 5 hours from the main link drop (don't ask me about where) before anyone complimented another actor except Sam Reid

There's still rn only been maybe 4 posts regarding all the slave metaphors of the trial, prbly the most obvious thing, but let's make another post saying happy pride bcuz Lestat told that guy off for homophobia (this was the thing most posted about at first).

ppl seeing Claudia "disappear" from the story but not understanding it was done on purpose. she stopped writing bcuz she had a real companion, finally, but she was also intentionally being silenced at the trial. this is the part only able to be told by men who never prioritized her in the first place, u see the metaphoric imagery in Louis dragging her whole body and calling her his daughter when they're strangers. it's v intentional and it's v intentional that it's a black girl not having a voice, not getting sympathy from anyone, but sure...it's bad writing or whatever. ok. (also the comparison to Lestat dragging Louis' body in 1x5 being lost on ppl. It's about patriarchy, it's about ownership, it's about being property. going on down the line through them all)

everyone's quick to jump on Armand's lie about "I could not prevent it" but also needs us to know we need to pity Lestat more tho. The show has made it obvious he's there against his will but let's speak down to ppl more about how nobody understands this white character's pain. let's focus on the white guy some more, the *real* victim, after all. u just saw a black girl die on stage and ur complaining she didn't exist enough but then u still keep a sharp focus on this white character. make up ur minds. it took over 4 hours after the link drop for the tags to mention Claudia and Madeleine's suffering. u all keep wanting to know why the murder (Lestat) wasn't focused on a lot and miss the point that the purpose of this was never to get answers, it was to torture and kill ppl. mainly black ppl. mainly a black woman/girl. stop refusing to include race in how u view the show, it's a requirement to understanding it.

[possessionisamyth]

Wondering how many bodies donated to science that umbrella took despite other research facilities deeming the cadavers unsuitable.

How much more serious did the organ donation process become after every outbreak?

What about blood donations? Did they add a rule barring outbreak survivors?

What's the general stigma around being an outbreak survivor? Does the general public pity or admire them like they survived a war zone, or do they judge them with vitriol and the fear they could turn at any second? Would the possible fear of them be reliant on where they survived like people from Raccoon get more sympathy than people from other countries?

Fake news broadcasts and conspiracy theorists behave in what manner to all this information? Who are their scape goats? Who's silenced and how?

How do pharmaceutical companies deal with regaining the public's trust after one of their higher up members is revealed to be misusing their facilities for terrorist activities? Degeneration did show that society is faster to protest anything slightly suspect.

There are a surplus of ex umbrella employees based on blue umbrella even existing in re7. Would they have been forced to look for work in places that don't require background checks? How many were immediately recruited by the military? Were minor staff like janitors and receptionists subject to the same harsh treatment despite never being apart of or aware of the bioweapon production process until it was too late?

How many jokes from college students are there which are equivalent to "yeah I have a humanities degree, but at least I don't work for a drug company 😂" because of these events? Like mocking business majors.

Was there ever an outbreak via a terrorist group utilizing annual vaccine shots like the flu shot?

How did medical distribution regulations change? What politicians were cutting regulations and adding loopholes after their pockets were lined? Who's enforcing the rules regardless, and are they well funded or poorly funded? Does their funding change every 2.5 years? Every 4 years?

What about in other countries? Who's leading the charge on high quality safety regulations and evacuation/quarantine measures? Who has the worst due to an uncaring government or a greedy one?

What misinformation is regularly spread around any new drug or advancement to heal or treat diseases that have always been there due to fear of being infected?

All these questions and more from your standard 3AM ramblings.

[storiesofsvu]

The Waiting Game

Alex Cabot x reader Req'd by anon. Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, hurt, angst. For the sake of what happens we're basing this early seasons Alex, it may be a little ooc, but whatever, we're going with it. Just under 2k words.

You’d been watching hot wax drip down the side of the candle into its holder for what felt like hours. Then again, you’d had time to slowly sip through two and a half glasses of wine so maybe it had been hours, you’d been avoiding looking at the time. Waiting on Alex was nothing new, while she was known to be punctual, having her schedule down to a perfectly timed dance, there were often steps that she fumbled, or completely forgot. It seemed like tonight you were one of those steps.

You’d waited at the hostess stand, thinking maybe she was just running late, caught on the subway or something. Eventually your reservation time had come and gone, the hostess letting you know if they didn’t seat you, they would have to give away your table. You’d been dreaming of dinner at River Café for months, the waitlist was huge so there was no missing tonight, at least, not for you. Fifteen minutes passed your reservation time you buckled and ordered a glass of wine, feeling bad every time the server came over, though you could feel the awkward sympathy wafting off her with each interaction. Forty minutes after that you’d gotten another glass of wine and guilted yourself into ordering a gnocchi appetizer, you were starting to feel terrible for holding up a table in the girl’s section.

As you watched another trail of wax drip down the candle in front of you, the flame flickered before snuffing itself out and you felt the tears burning their way into your eyes, knowing that wasn’t the only thing with an expired shelf life tonight. The server came by once more, asking if you wanted a fresh glass of wine and you felt that terrible feeling surge through you once again, you both knew that she’d be making a much larger tip off a couple at your table, one who was probably waiting in the lobby. The self pity morphed into anger as you asked for the cheque, it wasn’t your fault, Alex’s not showing up was what caused this entire awkward situation. And by now, you were done waiting.

Part of you wasn’t surprised at all when you unlocked your shared apartment to find it dark. You’d originally been hoping that moving in together would help solve the problem of Alex never being around. You knew she was busy, that her work required a lot of having dinner interrupted, calls in the middle of the night, or court days going into overtime. But if you lived together she could be doing that paperwork on the couch while you cooked dinner, you’d get the hours of at least eight pm to seven am together. The mundane tasks of everyday life would be brightened by the other’s existence in the shared space rather than trying to find time to meet up during the week only for Alex to have to shift it around three times before her schedule finally calmed down. Instead the apartment was just as dark and cold as your entire relationship felt at the moment.

You stepped out of your heels, hanging up your coat and plopped the to go bag down onto the kitchen island before you moved through the space, flicking on a couple of lights and grabbing a cardigan from over the back of the couch. You poured yourself a glass of wine, settling in at the island. While you weren’t really hungry, the waitress had taken pity on you when you asked for the untouched gnocchi to be packed up and had thrown in a free slice of cake. Solidarity between those who had been stood up. At least someone was looking out for you.

A glass and a half of wine later and you finally heard keys clinking in the lock, the door swinging open a moment later and Alex finally graced you with her presence.

“Hey.” She greeted, a small, tired smile on her cheeks while she slid out of her coat, her bag finding a home on the small table in the entrance.

“Were you stuck at a crime scene?”

“No. No new cases all week, I was getting ahead on paperwork when Liz came by with a couple of law journals for the Henderson case.”

“When does that one go to trial again?” You asked, exhaustion seeping through your body.

“God, with the way his lawyer’s pushing motion after motion probably not for months.”

You pushed away from the island, expertly avoiding her embrace as you moved past her toward the hallway, “wow. I think I would’ve preferred you be cheating on me.”

“What?” Her brow furrowed, her brain finally catching up to realize that something was wrong, there was more going on than just her coming home late. “Why are you so dressed up? Did I miss something?”

“Clearly nothing important!” Your voice raised as you disappeared into the bedroom, hastily tearing the dress and fancy clothing off your body, to replace it with leggings and a tee, pulling a hoodie on top of it all. “Would it kill you to look at a fucking calendar for once? You were the one who wanted it colour coded so you wouldn’t miss things!”

Alex’s head swivelled to look at the fridge, her heart sinking into her stomach as her eyes swept over the last two weeks. There were more than two notes written in pink that she’d completely missed, no wonder you were upset.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, turning back your way as you re-entered the main part of the apartment, “work’s just been a bit hectic this week.”

“Don’t start. For the love of God. You just said you were getting ahead on paperwork and your next trial isn’t for months.”

“Where is this coming from?” Her hand reached out to grab your forearm and it took all your power to not shove away from her, “you don’t act like this…. One dinner and one movie night. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”

“You don’t get to tell me how I act.” You took a shaky breath, “because you’re never here Alex! You barely even know who I am anymore! I ‘don’t act like this’ because every time you miss a date, are late coming home or maybe you’re physically here but you’re mentally not I just let it slide. Because it’s always work!”

“So you’d rather me be cheating than have a heavy work load?” She fired back and you huffed, so she had heard that after all.

“Honestly?!” You raised a brow, “yeah, yeah I would. Because then I would know what to do. But instead you’re not here because you’re off saving the world, putting rapists behind bars, holding victims hands while they panic over testifying. I can’t even remember the last time you actually held my hand.”

“I can’t help that I have a demanding job!” Alex could feel her blood beginning to boil now, to her, this was coming out of nowhere. You’d always been good at talking your issues out, especially when it came to each other, she’d already had a long week and it was only Wednesday. She was frustrated with defence attorneys, judges turning down motions, she was tired. She’d been looking forward to a quiet night, a nice glass of wine to wind down with but instead you were getting up in her face.

“That you chose, I know. But you also chose to have a girlfriend Alex, or have you forgotten that? Because I’m starting to feel like you have.”

“I always come home to you.” She protested and you rolled your eyes with a groan, which riled her up even more.

“You come home here because these are the apartment keys you have.” You shook your head, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, “I’m just an extra body in the apartment, the weight on the opposite side of the bed that you’ve gotten used to. And I’m fucking sick of it. You didn’t just work late tonight, you completely forgot about dinner, about me, left me feeling like an idiot in a fancy restaurant and it wasn’t the first time you’ve done so. You make me feel insignificant. Isn’t your significant other supposed to be important, a crucial part of your life? But you, you’ll run off at any hour of the day, any hour of the night to go be the highly esteemed, important big girl lawyer that needs to save the entire world. You’re not a fucking super hero. You ever think of that? Ever think that maybe an actual human being who you claim to love, should come before your fucking career?”

“Did it ever occur to you that nothing is more important than my career?” She was pissed now, sure she’d been frustrated before but you were doing nothing but dig into her, your words sharper the longer you went on, “you’re acting like a fucking child!”

“So that makes me insignificant? Your job really means more to you?”

“Nothing! Not even you!” The words slipped from her lips before she’d really thought about what she was saying. That maybe now was the time for a proper, full meaning apology, that the right kind of words could solve this. She needed to be on your side, understand where you were coming from, talk things out strategically, right now she was just going for blood.

But she’d said it.

She couldn’t take it back.

Even if she wanted to, she probably wouldn’t, because in that moment she realized it was true. Not specifically trained on you, but she did value her career over everything else. It was why she let it consume every ounce of her life. She had to prove she was good, capable, that she could do anything she put her mind to.

The room froze. Your head was spinning. You’d never expected Alex to just go out there and admit it, but here she was, apparently all it took was a little bit of push back from you. Maybe you should have had this fight earlier.

“Wow…” You whispered, slowly stepping back from her in the direction of the door, “that’s cold. Even from you.”

“Sweetheart…”

“No!” You yelled, “you said what you meant and you meant what you said.”

“We can try and fix this….”

“We’re way passed that point by now. You’re married to your job, just accept that. And maybe lead with that point for anyone in the future, let them know they’re not going to be anything more than a side piece because we all know what you actually care about.” Two more steps and you were scooping up your bag, hand on the door handle, “goodbye Alex.”

Your final words to her were whispered, knowing if you tried to say it any louder she would hear the shake in your voice, that you wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. You needed to at least make it to the elevator, you refused to let her see you cry, refused to be tricked into her embrace. You would break, the warmth of her arms fooling you into a false sense that something like this would never happen again when you knew within a matter of days it would. You needed to stand your ground.

Alex watched the door swing shut, the gust of air from it poofing through the room, a wave of coolness following it and she shivered. The moment you stepped out of the apartment you’d taken all the warmth with you and she suddenly realized exactly what you’d been saying. She’d become so adjusted to having you silently around it was as if you were as inanimate as the glow of light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the warmth seeping from your side of the bed to hers.

No matter how long she waited, the heat never kicked in, the apartment had never felt so cold.

__________________

@mickey-gomez @naturalxselection @cabotfan42 @giftedchildturns40  @detective-giggles @red1culous @melindawarnersgf @beccabarba @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl  @svushots  @mspetey @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @gaylorrds @venablemayfairgoode @whimsicallymad  @screenee @mysticfalls01 @littlegaybabe @bumblebear30  @jamiethetrans @ssaic-jareau @wosoimagines @solemnnova @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @momlifebehard @borg-queer @poisonedcrowns  @anlin2058 @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @somethingimaginative17 @summergeezburr @alexxavicry @anya-casablanca  @daddy-heather-dunbar  @evilregal2002 @alcabots @7thavenger @disneyfan624 @msvenablesbitch  @kdaghayy @thisisraes

[quadrantbot]

An explanation on what QUADRANT FEELINGS feel like.

Those with any sorts of quadrant crushes OR those in quadrant relationships tend to feel a few easily identifiable things. 

Any and every member in a troll romance relationship feels some form of pity. 

The base descriptions of troll romance types may lead you to believe otherwise, but it's very easily explainable if you think about a few things.

Trolls (at least in canon) really seem to have only a few "emotions." One being hate, one being pity. That being said, I think any relationship based on pure hatred doesn't exactly have the push and pull required for a short term OR a long term relationship between two trolls. What's going to pull you back to someone you hate? Something deeper than just pure hate, that's what.

But what IS pity? Let us take a look at a few dictionary definitions of pity to break it down. 

"sympathetic or kindly sorrow evoked by the suffering, distress, or misfortune of another, often leading one to give relief or aid or to show mercy"

(dictionary dot com) 

"sympathetic sorrow for one suffering, distressed, or unhappy"

(Merriam Webster)

"a feeling of sadness or sympathy for someone else's unhappiness or difficult situation"

(Cambridge Dictionary)

"a strong feeling of sadness or sympathy for someone or something"

(Britannica Dictionary)

As the basis of all troll relationships are pity, getting a few definitions is best for any description. To put it in the most concise way possible, all of these above definitions are good ways to describe exactly how troll pity feels.

2. Despite pity being the core of all romantic troll relationships, it is often utilized and felt in relatively different ways across all quadrants.

When it comes to flushed romance, (the trolls in this relationship being referred to as matesprits,) pity is often referred to as the main factor. In a way, this is accurate, but it often feels like it's ignoring the major pity aspect in other quadrants. Those who are flushed for each other often feel extreme pity (or even on occasion regular pity) for one another. Flushed relationships are relationships where the pity is very prevalent, but often is less acted on. Flushed relationships feel that pity for one another, but they don't really feel the need to act on it too much. To quote a popular phrase, a good way to describe them would lean on "misery loves company" rather than any action taking place. They feel a sort of passive pity for one another, finding comfort in just knowing that and being together rather than a more active approach. Flushed romance is one of two red quadrants, both of which are based primarily on the positive emotions of all parties. Flushed romance is one of two concupiscient quadrants, those which can often involve sexual feelings, though not always.

Pale romance is the second topic in this, acting quite differently than flushed romance. When it comes to pale partners, (referred to as moirails,) pity also plays a role, though a far more active role. A common misconception about pale romance is that it's not romance, which is false. Pale romance is romance, after all. Those in a pale relationship feel pity much like every other troll relationship, but alongside that pity is a sort of feeling of caring, understanding, and a need to pacify and help their moirail. The support level between two pale partners can vary anywhere from one side being more on the recieving end and one on the giving end to an equal sort of thing on all sides. Unlike the previous relationship discussed, they have a more active pity, showing in their comfort and placating of their moirails. Pale romance is one of two red quadrants, both of which are based primarily on the positive emotions of all parties. Pale romance is one of two conciliatory quadrants, both of which involve some degree of pacifying.

Pitch/caliginous romance, (with a partner in this relationship being referred to as a kismesis,) is a relationship built on primarily hate. It contains the same pity as every other quadrant, but the main characteristic of pitch romance is the shared mutual hate and the mutual respect of both parties. Those who feel pitch feelings for one another tend to have a handful of things they admire about the other party, but that admiration is outweighed by the hatred they have for the other's bad traits. When it comes to caliginous romance, the pity they feel comes from knowing all that their kismesis could be if they were to improve, and being upset that they aren't becoming that on their own. The pity and hatred takes an active role where each party pushes for the other to get better. There's a sort of "get better" thing that goes along with their "I'm better than you" rivalry. They typically tend to push for the other to get better while also trying to be better than each other. Pitch romance is one of two black quadrants, both of which are based primarily on the negative emotions from the majority of parties involved. Pitch romance is one of two concupiscient quadrants, those which can often involve sexual feelings, though not always.

Ashen romance, (with the middleman partner being referred to as their auspistice,) is a relationship that could exist for a few different reasons. At the very core of it, an auspistice feels pity and ashen feelings for the two trolls they're mediating between. Those feeling ashen feelings can be best described as a sort of responsibility they feel to keep the hatred between the two trolls healthy, or, in the case of preventing pitch infidelity, keeping the hatred platonic. This feeling is also considered a type of romance. An auspistice's responsibility for the two parties is something they willingly sign up for, so it's generally not as stressful as one might assume. Auspistices exist to make sure the emotions and actions between the two mediated parties stay at whatever level is best for everyone involved. Ashen is one of two black quadrants, both of which are based primarily on the negative emotions from the majority of parties involved. Ashen romance is one of two conciliatory quadrants, both of which involve some degree of pacifying.

TLDR: BOY READ MY QUADRANT POST BOY

[pianocat939]

Celina: *releases a little blurb about platonic yandere Donnie*

Her fans: *read it*

…

Her fans: *bowing down* oh sweet goddess of yandere fan fiction, we as your loyal fan base and vessels require a part two!

Celina: uh-

(I’m sorry. I had to write this, it was my first thought when I read your short blurb. It’s up to you if you wanna write more to it, you seem very busy so I won’t press. Enjoy your day ;) PS: yandere Mikey says if you don’t hydrate you will be bound down to a chair and be forced to attend his 6-hour-long seminar about why water is important for the human body. And yes, the word count is the same, if not more, as that of ‘The Odyssey’)

ugh- two more weeks before the musical and then I'll be free...except for studying for my AP exams-

1st part

Tw: implied forced mutation, abandonment, heavier angst than usual, brief mentions of death (but doesn't actually happen)

"Oh my god! What is that- that weird turtle creature?!"

"Get away! It might be dangerous!"

The child looks up at their parents in pain and in desperation. They were no longer human but now a turtle-human thing of some sort. But surely their own parents should recognize them right? But to their dismay, their parents dash away from them, terrified for their lives. Leaving the poor child alone and afraid: not used to their new form.

"Mom...Dad...but- but- it's still me." The young one begs quietly, a voice that of a whisp, tears streaming down their face at the realization that they were alone, and abandoned. They stare down at their hands, sorrow running through their mind. Their hands were no longer the five-fingered skin anymore; it was a shade of green, with only three fingers with scales dotting the surface. "How could this happen to me?"

The newly mutated turtle shuffles back into a corner, encompassing itself in the shadows, hiding their new form. It anxiously scratches its arm a bit, eyes darting everywhere around the landscape. "How am I gonna live? I'm...I'm just a kid still." More water droplets flow from their eyes, stinging their skin with unfamiliar wetness. They silently hunch over and stare at the ground, feeling a hole gaping in their stomach: their center feels chilled as if an actual hole was there. "I'm...I'm gonna die soon. There's no way I'll make it, not in this form."

"Not if an adult is willing to assist a child of need."

An unfamiliar voice speaks, and slowly a somewhat tall turtle mutant emerges from behind the wall. He kneeled down in front of the young one to make himself less intimidating. "Did...Did your parents leave you after you mutated?" He questions with a frown, his eyes seem to hold sympathy, an understanding of the pain the child is going through.

At that moment, they truly realized what had happened moments before. They were left behind, abandoned. Standing alone to fend off the world. They broke down completely, no longer leaking a few tears from their eyeballs, but a whole waterfall. They had nowhere to go, no one to talk to, just a pitiful form of an ugly turtle beast.

The man firmly hugs the small kid, patting their shell gently. "I know you don't know me at all, but...I'm willing to fill in the role of a parent." He offers, voice gently and warm in attempt to comfort the poor emotional wreck. "I'll...I'll teach you the life of living as a mutant, and I promise, you'll be safe and taken care of." He notices the child relaxing a bit and gingerly rocks them while they lean into his embrace.

"So...Will you trust me?" He hesitantly asks, patiently waiting for their response.

For a few moments there's a silence before the young one answers, "I'll trust you."

The older man smiles and nods in confirmation. "I'm Donatello. You can call me Donnie if you would like, or any title you wish to name your newly appointed guardian." He stands up and motions the little kid to follow him as he saunters, ensuring his new family member can keep up. "What's your name?"

"Y/n." Their voice is still raspy from crying, but there's a sense of warmth in it: hope. They pursue him, feeling an odd safety to the man. "You have a lot of gadgets on you, are you a scientist?" They interrogate, pointing at his arm brace.

Donatello grins in pride and joy, "Why yes, little turtle. I love science, and I make lots of technological inventions; it is my passion."

"Cool! I like science too!" They cheer quietly, excited that their new protector has a similar interest in science.

The inventor laughs in a proud matter, staring down at the little one in a loving, fatherly matter. "Then you'll be ecstatic to see all my inventions, I just know it."

He had done it. This wonderful child was now his. His to take care of, protect, and to love. They'll no longer have to suffer that neglectful world their parents once reinforced. They can just stay in their father's embrace, and watch rockets fly as a pass time.

What a wonderful unification.

——————————————————

I do love myself a good angst piece- needless to say I enjoyed writing this- now I shall sleep, it's 2 AM.

I think I might have a little talent in angst writing-

- Celina

[stargazer-sims]

1. Introduction (Video #1)

Caroline

Hey everybody!

My name is Caroline Okamoto-Nelson. I’m seventeen years old, and I live in Willow Creek. I like horses, cooking, shopping and J-pop. I really love swimming. I guess you might even say I'm obsessed with it. I'm really good at it too, and I have the medals to prove it.

People often comment that I look like both my parents, which is super funny to me since I’m not actually biologically related to them at all. I guess people say I resemble them because I have pale hair and blue eyes like Victor, and I have Japanese facial features like Yuri. Honestly, though, I don't mind if strangers assume I'm literally theirs. I am theirs in every way that matters, and being adopted is amazing because I know they love me enough to want to make me part of their family forever. I love them a lot, and even though I think about my biological parents sometimes, Victor and Yuri will always be my real parents.

Yeah, I have two dads, and to avoid things getting confusing I should let you know that I usually call them by their names. Some people think that's weird and a few people think it's disrespectful, but it's not weird to me. I started out as Victor and Yuri's foster child when I was six years old, after my biological father passed away, and I didn't want to call either of them Daddy or Papa or whatever. They were okay with that, and when they officially adopted me about a year later, the habit had already stuck.

I do call Victor 'Dad' sometimes, probably a lot more often than I call Yuri 'Papa'. Yuri says I only call him Papa when I really want something, which... is kinda not inaccurate. Luckily, he has a good sense of humour about it.

Let's see... Another important thing you should know about me straight away is that I'm blind. Before anybody starts demanding to know how a blind person can use a camera and make a video, remember blindness is a spectrum. Most people who fit into the category of blindness can see at least a little bit. There aren't that many people who're totally blind.

As for me, I was born with something called oculocutaneous albinism, which is why I look the way I do even though I'm one hundred percent Japanese. My condition means I have no pigment in my skin, hair and eyes, and it's why I have low vision.

I can see well enough to get around, but I do use my white cane at night or in unfamiliar places. I'm able to read large print, and I can see enough to use my computer and phone if I wear my glasses. I can do most normal things, actually. The only things that are really off-limits are driving and anything that requires good visual acuity, like cutting in a straight line, putting small objects together or sewing. Unfortunately, this means I'll never get to be a nurse like Victor. That's what I originally wanted to be, until I got older and started to understand my disability and finally realized that I don't see the same way everyone else does.

I don't want anybody to feel sorry for me because of my disability. I'm not unhappy or bitter about it and I don't need anyone's sympathy or pity. As a matter of fact, I have an awesome life, and I wouldn't want to change a thing.

On the subject of my life, that brings me around to why I'm making this video in the first place. I just started twelfth grade last week, and my best friends Forest and Camellia and I decided to sign up for media studies as one of our electives. The course runs for the whole school year, and we have to do one major project as well as some small assignments. Camellia and Forest got permission to work together — they're twins and they seem to want to do practically everything together — and they're making a podcast. I decided my project is going to be a documentary about myself. A video autobiography, I suppose you could say.

The plan is to chronicle my life from now till June, but it's not just going to be a video journal about random stuff that happens to me this year. I want to tell the story of my life so far, about how I went from being an unwanted baby in Japan to being the loved, talented, cute and successful person I am today.

These videos aren't going to be only me talking in front of a camera, either. I'm planning to interview my friends and family, and maybe also to give them the camera so they can record some thoughts of their own. Then, I'll edit everything and get it ready for the final presentation.

I've decided to call it Caroline & Company. I may be the main subject of this story, but nobody can exist alone. We all need company. I don't think it'd even be possible to survive without the guidance and support of family and friends, not to mention teachers, coaches, therapists, doctors and all the other people we interact with on a daily basis. Every person in my life is important, so I feel like they need to be acknowledged in some way.

Our teacher, Mr. Blanchet, is going to help our class design a website so that all our projects will be available for everyone to see at the end of the school year. Maybe it's nerdy of me to be excited for a school project, but I"m really looking forward to doing this, and I can hardly wait to see what my classmates come up with as well.

I think it's going to be an incredible year!

[moreespressoformydepresso]

I was just reading a new TBOSAS fic on AO3, it’s a Catching Fire AU that I found by religiously stalking the Treech tag. And the author just informed me that they’re not sure on who gets to live or die so my brain made multiple similar AU’s where I decide who lives :)

So first of all, these will all be focussing on Treech and Lamina. I headcanon Lamina as older than Treech, which I seem to be alone in? I’m sorry but she has big sis energy to me, and also I push the “younger people can be the (more) protective one too” agenda. In my head Treech is 15-16ish? So he’s a few months to a bit over a year younger than Lamina (who is canonically 16). I’m not 100% on what to make their relationship to each other, because I like them both as a ship and as platonic besties. I’ll mention which one I’m using (or if I’m making them related somehow) for the AU’s I’ll share in this post (and, likely, following ones 💜).

Starting off strong: not necessarily a catching fire AU but close enough and better because the second rebellion happens much sooner here. Treech and Lamina can be anything here, but I my top picks are siblings or besties since birth so we’ll go with siblings (nice Gloss and Cashmere parallel minus the career/likely volunteer part I know). Treech is two years younger than Lamina here for ✨reasons✨. The 10th games, with Lucy Gray still as victor through cheating, are the starting point of the mentors. From then on, the victors slowly start taking over the mentoring. The academy students still get a chance at winning the Plinth Prize in the beginning, but that quickly falls away and it’s just about getting your name out there and bragging rights for them.

Lamina wins the 16th games at 16 (ha) as the first female victor for district 7. She and one of the two male victors from previous games are to mentor, since the capitol stipulates that if there are male and female victors, the two mentors have to be one guy and one girl. This happens during her second year as mentor. The mentors all watch the reaping together in the capitol, which also gives them more time to sort mentor business. District 7’s turn comes, and Lamina almost feels bad for how relieved she is that the 18-year-old girl is someone she’d only seen in passing and didn’t actually know. Most of her friends that weren’t already safe aged out this year, meaning she didn’t have to worry about potentially seeing anyone she cared about die. Treech’s name isn’t in the bowl as much as many others, especially since her victory meant her family had enough food to not require tesserae anymore. And their family had already been reaped once, so surely they wouldn’t be picked again, right?

Pause for effect

Treech’s name is called out, and Lamina screams in denial before breaking down into sobs while the other two district 7 victors try to comfort her. The rest of the victors look at her with pity and sympathy. He’d been her motivation to win her games, and now Lamina would have to mentor her little brother despite his low odds of winning the games. I have most of this AU worked out in terms of broad strokes, but I’ll move on to the next one and if you want me to expand just ask me.

Quarter Quell Hell:

The 25th hunger games had the twist that the districts have to vote on their tributes, but I’m adding a twist to this Quarter Quell. The tributes are reaped from bowls filled with the names of the 5% of kids with the least votes, to remind the districts that they’re powerless rather than the whole “you’re the reason they’re dying” thing. And when they’re chosen, a screen will show how many people voted. Treech, being the only direct relative of a victor eligible for the games, received zero votes. Nobody wished it upon their family to lose another child, especially given how they’re so kind to everyone (basing this off of Lamina, and Treech doesn’t have much canon personality so it works).

Quarter Quell Hell 2: Electric Boogaloo:

A completely different first quarter quell, where the tributes are picked from the victor’s direct family. A reminder that even the districts’ strongest cannot protect their loved ones from the capitol. The only restriction is that people above the age of 50 cannot compete, because those people have lived out most of their life expectancy, whereas younger people still have most of their life to live, and it’d be like letting the district off easy. Only one previous victor besides Lamina has a brother, and that brother turned 50 just that year, whereas Treech just turned 15 and is very much eligible. The parents that are still alive are well above the age cutoff. So, while there are more than 20 names in the bowl for the women of district 7 (sisters, wives, and daughters), there’s only one in the bowl for the boys. Treech. Worse even, he won’t be mentored by a previous victor but by a top performing student at the academy to reinforce the intended message.

I’m torn on whether to make Gaius Breen (because he deserves more attention) or Festus Creed his mentor (I wanted to go with Pliny, but he’s so tied to Lamina in my head it would feel weird to go that route). I’m gonna go with Festus, because he was nice to Sejanus. Am I lowkey shipping Festus with Treech now, even though they have no canon interaction whatsoever? … yes, yes I am. Sue me. The reaping happens in the capitol, and while the previous victors must go to the capitol to watch the games they’re only brought there a day before the games begin and aren’t allowed to see their family member at all before the games. Both the tribute and the victor will be alone. I’ve got a lot of ideas for this one, and for my newly invented ship FesTreech, so I’ll write a post about that once I’ve posted this.

Star Crossed Lovers AU:

Lamina is the Girl on Fire of this AU, winning her game with only one kill, made out of compassion. Lumber is used as firewood, and her stylist leaned into it. Hence her also getting a literally flaming hot costume. She’s sent into the games with Treech, but unlike Katniss and Peeta these two are in love from the start. In fact, they were dating before they were reaped. Treech joins the careers, but only because he doesn’t want to be the only one left with Lamina at the end because he doesn’t want to fight her. He leaves the pack very early, rather than being forced out, and stays alone for most of the rest of the games, before teaming up with Lamina towards the end when the announcement comes they can survive together. The announcement is revoked, they almost eat the berries, they’re saved, they start a rebellion.

Actual Catching Fire AU:

Lamina won the 71st games, went back home and started dating Treech. Then Treech got reaped and she had to mentor her boyfriend, but he won too so it’s alright. Then the third Quarter Quell happens, and their worst nightmare comes true. Not only are they both reaped to go back into the arena, but they’re going in together this time. And only one of them will survive. They stick together throughout most of the games, only teaming up with Tanner and Coral briefly because they’re good friends of theirs (less than half of the 75th games’ tributes are 10th games tributes because I refuse to kill any of them if I can prevent it). When the arena is destroyed, Treech is taken by the capitol. I choose him because this leads to Lamina going on an absolute rampage. The capitol was not prepared for her wrath at the sheer audacity they have to dare hurt her boyfriend.

What did I just create? I- it’s 4:35AM please cut me some slack

[merciawintersageposting]

A little more head canon- this time about how Rook met the Companions at the Necropolis🐦‍⬛🗡️☠️

Part 1: The Magpie.

Power is the same everywhere. Especially among the dead.

The Grand Necropolis, Maker’s Mile in common, was where the wealthy dead found new life under the careful stewardship of their equally privileged caretakers. The so-called Mortalitasi. In these grand halls, the spirits of the poor are an afterthought for most, or an encroaching blight to others.

Just like home, Rook noted warily.

They pass quietly through grand romanesque archways and stone-paved hallways in a minder’s drab brown clothes. Invisible in the bustle of spirits, guards and minders. Their head respectfully bowed under a cowl, the only sound that of the rattle of a silver trolley on wheels. It’s such a thing to be seen by many and yet remain invisible to most, as servants often are. But then crowd cover is a shield- and Rook moved with the purposeful walk of a servant headed to complete an errand.

Most Crows count themselves as carrion makers, but Rook’s specialty was of a different variety. Less sanguine, more…surgical and acquisitive. Amidst all the rumors and speculation about the Crows, you’ve likely heard whispers of the ragazze. A pitiable pun, but the Antivan root word for “youth” is gazze, or Magpie. Trained from toddling to adulthood as the wily procurers of shiny objects, they are taught to fetch and retrieve for the guild. Curios. Information. Secrets. Birds of prey collared by short leashes and even shorter lives. Rook is one of their number.

Whispers of conversation, long past and curiously present, flow around Rook through the skeletal interior of the Necropolis. Traveling along the artfully sculpted ribbed dome toward shelves filled with noble bones in noble tableaus. All leading to the offices of the Mourn Watch.

Normally this corridor is silent as a tomb, the only indications of life the mottled marble plaques above each door inscribed with the names of individual Watchers. The living stewards of the mostly departed.

Today however, voices carry from the office of Professor Emmrich Volkarin. Rook had expected a few disruptions. Patience is not a virtue for a Crow after all. Simply the cost of doing business. So they waited in the wings, and listened.

An upper class tenor voice said something they couldn’t quite make out- something about a text, the undead, and the Fade, but the man was speaking too animatedly for Rook to catch it. This, they were certain, was the Watcher in question.

“We know the Necropolis is next, Professor.” Harding cut through the professor’s academic soliloquy.

At this Emmrich deflated- and sat down heavily in his office chair, fingers steepled.

“It’s all rather apocalyptic,” Emmrich said, and then more decidedly, “Manfred— this calls for tea.”

The skeleton’s unearthly green gems glittered with banked sass.

“But of course. And will his lordship also require shortbread?” the skeleton riposted in the most affected and crusty accent he could muster.

Emmrich pursed his lips, accustomed as he was to their dynamic.

“As you may recall, I rang last time. And you drew tails this morning.” Emmrich replied.

“Pity that,” Manfred tutted in false sympathy, “but don’t get up on my account, think of your knees.”

“…and Manfred-“ Emmrich ignored the barb and continued abashed, “about the biscuits...”

Manfred pulled the brown velvet bell pull at the doorway while the glittering gems in his eye sockets rolled so loudly they creaked.

“We were saying Professor—“ Varric interjected, clearing his throat as he had little stomach for pleasantries today. He shared this trait with the Crow leaning on the wall beside him. But the only sign of impatience Lucanis had shown so far was the occasional grimace at the chatty professor.

And then a little interruption changed everything. The knock at the door for tea came far too soon. All eyes snapped toward the archway.

Varric would later call what followed Mayhem at the Mortuary.

For more, here’s Part 2.

[air3d3lalm3na]

I’m so tired of my life being dicked around by EVERYONE but myself. Of my life coming last in priority after everyone else. Of being beholden to everyone else’s whims and demands like a child. Of being deemed still not good enough at the end of it all — after completely acquiescing to their bullshit just in order to live and SURVIVE. Of not being heard because I am the lowest on the pecking order and NO ONE *WANTS* TO HEAR ME. I NEED BETTER.

The road to fixing my fucking life involves being treated like a fucking child. Over money, living space, transportation and the ability to use it in the first place, money money money always money. Power.

Much was harder, yet dealing with these people was also easier, when she was here. Solace. We were a team. And they could less easily defeat two of us with their bullshit tries.

Yet I also get this weird sympathy, alone, that I would not with her presence. But that sympathy requires looking at my (hypermobility-caused-)young-looking appearance and my life inexperience and troubles and treating me like a poor little Dickensian waif.

Part of that means that I can naturally be put through whatever they want. Because after all, isn’t it nice of them to take me on? (Charitable and Christian. So, naturally, they can do no wrong, nor be told of it when they are. They’ve already bought their little seat in untouchable heaven with this kindness!) Jane Austen, the pitied orphan moving in with her third or fourth cousins. Bottom of the hierarchy.

The boss could have AT LEAST given me a goddamn CALL to let me know that I was replaced. A TEXT MESSAGE!

CHRIST!!