#now I just need possible feedback for anyone who’s interested and what options they prefer!

[mewnia]

(also feel free to recommend other options or ask questions)

[pomrania]

For June 2023, I’m planning to do an art event where I’ll be drawing people’s queer D&D (or other gaming system) characters. That means I’ll need people with queer characters who want me to draw those characters. It’s the same thing as I did the last two years; but if you weren’t here for that, I’ll explain it now.

The TLDR is that if you have a queer D&D character (Pathfinder character, GURPS, Monster of the Week, any other gaming system), leave a comment here or send me a message, so I can work out a list of people who might be interested. If you’re not sure if something counts, ask me.

So, the non-TLDR version. There’s an event AdorkaStock has run called “Draw Everything June”, where new poses are put out for each weekday in June. (That worthy is being less active on dA, and currently has plans to host the event on their own site; if it doesn’t work out, then I’d use a different way to get their poses.) The pose is released the night before; I make a post about it, asking who’s interested; the next morning I check the replies, get into contact with someone who was interested in it, and I use that pose to draw their character.

You might notice that this requires me to know what their character looks like. If somebody already has good visual reference for their character, that’s great. If they don’t have reference for their character, then I can work with that; more specifically, work with THEM, to make a reference sheet I can use. And if they don’t really know what their character looks like, I can ALSO work with that, and help them figure out what their character might look like.

I can do all that stuff while working on a picture, but I’d really rather do it ahead of time. (Plus that’ll give me something to do that isn’t my Mermay piece, which is always good.) Thus, why I’m making this post now.

A few things I need to address:

“I don’t want to impose --” This isn’t imposing. This is literally me asking for people to let me draw their characters. Can I make it any more explicit?

“I’m sure you have lots of other characters to draw instead of mine --” Sometimes that happens, but in the past, what’s more often is that I don’t have ANY characters for a pose, and I have to hunt around for anyone who might be able to help, and/or beg.

“You’ve already drawn stuff for me --” And I’m perfectly capable of choosing someone else to draw stuff for, if I decide to, and all else being equal, I’ll generally pick a person who hasn’t gotten art from me before. BUT that’s “all else being equal”; and I’d really much rather have a lot of options to choose from.

“You literally drew my character last year.” Which means that your character will have lower priority (but maybe there’s a pose they’d be perfect for). I’d still like you to leave a note here, because I have a terrible memory for people; I’m not joking when I say that I can’t remember who it was, even if I chatted with you a lot about it. (I have literally forgotten that it was my MOTHER who did certain things; if HER identity can slip my mind, please believe me when I say it’s nothing personal.)

“I have multiple characters.” Awesome; some poses have two or three figures in them, and it’s easier when I just have one person to talk to about it, instead of two different people for two different characters.

“Why don’t you draw your own characters?” Because of how my brain works. Seriously.

“Here’s my character, you can just use them for whatever pose you choose.” That doesn’t work for me.

“I probably won’t be available while you’d be working on a drawing.” Then we’ll just have to work out as much as possible ahead of time; and while I prefer having regular feedback from the person whose character I’m drawing, so long as I know ahead of time that you won’t be around (and thus I won’t worry that you’re ignoring me), I can manage without it.

“But what about --” If you’ve any further questions, just ask them; not only am I not a mind reader, I’m also somewhat tired at the moment, so I prolly forgot to include a bunch of stuff.

[russellsppttemplates]

Coffee (George Russell)

Note: english is not my first language

The more I read this the less I like it but this idea had been brewing in my brain and I thought I'd share

Feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

When your supervisor said that you'd gotten the permission to initiate the first option of your research, you sat in the office dumbfounded. Sure, you submitted a possible study involving teams of engineers that worked in motorsport in order to study a few behaviours you were interested in, but never actually thought you'd be able to do it given the intricacy of the population you were after, submitting it just so that at least the university senior research panel would see that you had some interesting ideas. But now you've got it, and 10 minutes later you still can't believe it.

"So you mean I can go and collect data? All the teams have given their acceptance?", you asked your supervisor, "Yes, we're still waiting on a formal acceptance papers that usually take longer, it's nothing to worry about, but yeah, you can start going next Monday. I'll mail you the schedules they prefer for you to go in and you can choose what's best for your schedule too. Y/N, I'm very proud of you for getting this study, and I'm here to help you achieve all of the greatness I know you can bring!".

And that's how you ended up in the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team building, confirming your identity in the front desk and heading to the room where you do all the interviews. As you'd become a familiar face around the building, so did the people who were participating in your study and, noticing some missing data, you took liberty in heading to look for that engineer.

"Y/N, what a lovely visit you're paying us. Looking for anyone?", Paul, one of the engineers, asked as you knocked on their door. "Sorry to interrupt you, I know you've been busy, but I was hoping I could find John, do you know where he is?", you asked after a quick scan of the room, "You're not gonna find him today I'm afraid, his son was feeling poorly so he stayed home today, but drop into HR and they'll give you his contacts". Thanking him, you wished them a good day and closed the door. Great. Just great. Sure, you'd been here for a good amount of time, could blindly walk to every coffee machine they had (you needed your fuel), but HR? You didn't know where that was. You remembered being there once in the first week but that was it, and now you had no recollection where it was.

Seeing someone in the team attire, you decided to take your shot, "I'm sorry, hi, do you happen to know where HR is?", you gently called hoping the tall man would help you. "Hi, yeah, you can go that way which goes through the factory or you can follow these stairs. I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've met before, I'm George", he said flashing you a charming smile.

"Thanks. I'm Y/N", you replied, suddenly then remembering the new drivers and realising who you were talking to, "sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you. Thanks again for the help. I'll get going", you flashed him a smile and finally headed to the offices.

Unbeknownst to you, as you made the turn to the offices, George had gone down the same way so he could be on the factory with everyone. When you went through the corridor again, everyone waved at you, and George waved his arm too before even registering what he had done, "So, you all know Y/N?", he asked, "yeah, she's doing this study and we're all participants, she's a really nice young lady", someone responded whilst George's gaze followed you for as long as possible.

"Yeah, George apparently also thinks that", Paul teasingly added, "I just met her, she was looking for the HR offices, she was really nice", George replied, quickly shaking himself off and turning his attention back to the numbers on the screen.

Weeks had passed, and with the season approaching George was a recurrent encounter in the corridors of the building, making you meet at least once a day for a little chat, something that the both of you refused to admit was the favourite part of your days.

"Y/N is leaving today, she said it's the last day she's gonna be here so I thought we could have a little get together, since everything is under control and we could all enjoy a little time off", Toto said, "so in the afternoon everyone is invited for the get together, but Y/N doesn't know about it! So if you see her you don't tell her anything! Whoever is with her at that time will come to the gathering, that's your job!", he ordered as you were known to be always running around the place, never certain where you would be and fearing that you would catch up with the surprise.

As you were carrying the last things back to your car, George spotted you from inside and immediately started thinking that maybe you were leaving, and Toto had specifically requested that you'd be there. Going down the stairs as fast as he could, he reached the parking lot, not going unnoticed by you. "Finished your day too, George?", you asked. Truth was, you had gotten to know so many incredible people over the course of the time you were there, but you had to admit George was your favourite acquaintance. He may seem frigid at first, but underneath it all you found an amazing, funny and kind guy and maybe, just maybe, you may have a crush on the driver. Good job sorting that one out, Y/N, you thought.

"I was just going to get something from my car", he said as he approached you, "And you?".

"I'm just packing up a few things and then leaving, so you don't need to worry about being pestered by me!", you said, smiling a sad smile as you realised you will most likely never see him again, not like this anyway.

George started getting nervous, looking at his watch and realising that he was the one responsible to bring you to the surprise get together, "How about we go inside? I seem to have forgotten my car keys and perhaps you could accompany me for a coffee?", he said, "If management finds out how much coffee I've been drinking here they may think I came here to get them to go bankrupt because of coffe", you commented, as when you weren't collecting data or looking for someone to interview, you were most likely found near the many coffee machines they provided.

"C'mon, just one last coffee with me, I promise I won't tell anyone", despite feeling nervous and afraid he may have ruined the team's surprise, George flashed you one of those charming smiles of his and you couldn't say no, "Alright then, one last coffee", as you reentered the building.

"Not that I am the most oriented person here but there are no coffee machines this way, and if you must know the really good ones are actually somewhere else", you said as you went to what seemed like the outdoor area, "what? 'really good ones'? How come you're only telling me this now?", George asked you, "yeah, the really really nice one is upstairs, in the little room before the IT offices. I never shared the information because I was afraid everyone would go there and they'd run out of the good coffee", and George could only laugh at the innocence and excitement you displayed talking about your fear of losing your good coffee supply. "Don't laugh", you playfully swatted his arm, "it is God tear coffee and the least people that know about the better, means everyone who knows gets the good stuff. I only found out because Lucy from IT brought me coffee from there once and I noticed the difference. I'm letting you on a secret here Russell, you should feel privileged to have this information", you laughed with him.

"George, since when do they have coff-", you were interrupted as he opened the door for the little outside area that was filled with every member of the team, tables with drinks and food, "We couldn't let you walk out of here without saying a proper goodbye so... yeah... there's food and everyone's here... I don't think that coffee machine is the one you were talking about but hopefully it'll do", George said and you could have cried from the thought and dedication. It had been an incredible experience. Going from submitting the idea just in case someone might be crazy enough to take you on to finishing the most experience ever with so many dear people to your heart and a great sense of accomplishment, you could not be more grateful, letting the tears flow freely.

George quickly noticed your tears and ran his hand aling your back, slightly holding you on your side, making you hug him back and choosing to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, just enjoying the comfort he was providing.

"Well everyone, let's just enjoy this little break because I think we all deserve it", Toto said and everyone went around the tables picking food and talking.

George couldn't help but notice how you talked and knew every single person that was there, wether they were cleaning staff or engineers, you talked to them like you had known them forever.

"She's truly something else, isn't she?", Lewis asked his teammate, "If you really like her, which by the looks you give her you do, maybe this is the time to ask her out man", he advised as he saw her coming closer to them, "Hey", you greeted, "thank you for making my time here incredible. I really appreciate it", you thanked them and fell into comfortable chatting until Lewis had to leave and, soon, everyone else started gathering things to clean up and leave.

As you were walking back to car park, you were dreading having to leave everything (and George was probably up there), "I was promised a coffee, Mr Russell, and I have yet to see, let alone drink, that last one", you teased him. This was it, George thought, "Well, what if you and I made a deal. You can give me your number and maybe this weekend we can go get one", he said, looking into your eyes, "that sound good for me", "and maybe it won't be a last coffee, perhaps the beginning of many...?", he responded.

You turned to face him, looking up to his beautiful eyes, "I'd like that too", you smiled, giddy to what the future may have in store for you two.

[rainofaugustsith]

SWTOR: It's. About. Story.

After weeks of complaints about the new Galactic Seasons program, the devs posted a response today. Unfortunately they managed to neatly sidestep almost all of the complaints players have been making en masse: 

1. The PVE objectives funnel a lot of players into areas where the instances are too large for the map to accommodate, such as 30 players on CZ-198. It's thus making those areas miserable to play, and woe to anyone actually trying to complete story (such as Rishi and Yavin 4).

Solutions to this issue would be a) lower the number of players in each instance; b) distribute the objectives more broadly so players don't all converge on a few specific areas. EA/BW said nothing about the former and doubled down on making the objectives narrow for the latter, at least for the first season of GS.

2.  The "RNG" for objectives is very heavily skewed toward PVP and GSF, which are activities many players dislike and do not want to do. It's not uncommon to have both GSF and Warzones come up as the day's POs, and there's only one re-roll.  

3. Re-rolling any objective often results in GSF or PVP coming up again. There's only one, so that often means a player cannot complete their PO (s) for the day. 

As solutions to #2 and #3, players have been asking for a) more re-rolls; b) a way to toggle mission preference between PVE, solo PVE and PVP objectives so they avoid the ones they hate and won't do. 

4. There are no solo weekly POs. 

It seems as though EA/BW is making a conscious effort to ignore all the feedback on what many players actually want from the game and the issues they've expressed both on the PTS and live, to try to push the play styles they - and a small clique of fans - personally favor. It feels to me that they are trying to force the game and the player base to be something they're not. 

SWTOR was marketed as a story based game. Its core demographic comes largely from two single-player, story-based games: KOTOR and KOTOR II. When it was released it was praised for the richness of its storytelling, and the strength of its voiceover artists. 

Not PVP. 

Not raids. 

Not GSF. 

Story. Good, substantial story. 

The writing on the wall is there with other EA/BW games, too. The next Dragon Age was changed from a MMO to a single-player game. Anthem, a game involving group play, failed. Fallen Order, a single-player story based game, did well. 

Mass Effect and Dragon Age are a decade old. KOTOR is an older game, too. People still play them, and want more of them, because of the story. 

Of course, EA/BW would love it if the SWTOR playerbase en masse learned to love PVPing and GSF. It's low-cost content for them. They don't have to do much; just provide the maps and let players kill each other. But that isn't why people play this game, overall. There are far better games for PVP, first-person shooters and space battles, if that is what one actually wants. Heck, there's an entire space battle Star Wars game, Battlefront II, if that is what one wants. 

In SWTOR, it's about the story. It's about the characters. 

Sometimes I feel like there are devs at EA/BW who are trying to do this with the resources they have, and I'm grateful for that effort. The swoop rally had short storylines and characters to talk with. Echoes of Oblivion brought us the best writing since KOTFE. They had a Mandalorian themed flashpoint that brought in a storyline for non-Force users. None of it was IMPS VS PUBS 4EVA!!! which was great. Even the Secrets of the Enclave was pretty good. While I dread what it may be setting up, and it's back to the IMPS VS PUBS 4EVA!!! treadmill which is boring and tedious as fuck, it was designed well and had some really excellent moments. 

But...Spirit of Vengeance was designed initially at a level much more tedious, and requiring better gear, than usual story/solo flashpoints. GSF objectives get way more conquest points that anything else. Some mats are only available through ranked PVP or NiM Ops. And now, Galactic Seasons, which could have been brilliant but seems to be garnering more resentment, anger and lost subscriptions than anything else. 

When is there engagement and interest in SWTOR? When does one see more people posting on the official forums? When do the planets seem busier? When there's new story or event that can be soloed. 

What do people constantly ask for? New stories, new engagement with companions, new strongholds, new world building. 

It's interesting that EA/BW never has to beg or bribe people to play the story. Players do it because they want to. Even KOTFE/KOTET, which are not super popular, do not require player bribes.  The only story content people seem to avoid or revile en masse are the walker missions; Oricon, which needs two ops to be completed; and Makeb, which tellingly has no characters with which the player can bond and engage long-term. 

The class stories? Still being played. I've been through the Sith Warrior story four times, with several clones at various points in the class story working their way through. I've been through the Sith Inquisitor story three times, again, with more clones coming up. Bounty Hunter? Three times, so far.. Smuggler? Twice, so far. Imperial Agent? Twice. I've repeated every class story at least once, and I still keep coming back to do the class stories and planetary stories and side quests, because they are good. Because I like the characters I meet. Because the planets are engaging. 

Shadow of Revan? Still being played. 

I still see people on Ilum. I see people on Onderon and Ossus. Even Zakuul and Iokath. The story content gets played, and played again. One of the things people have requested again and again, in fact, is a way to repeat the story content.  

Voiceover artists are expensive, especially when three languages are being recorded, but players have offered ways to add engagement with companions without speech, such as emails from them. Silent missions. You don't need to have a voiceover artist to animate a short scene of Lana Beniko or Theron Shan dancing on the beach with a PC they've romanced. Even if they cannot keep up every romance, if they just kept up with Lana and Theron it would make players happy. Add in, let's say, four or six selected from the class stories - let's say Scourge, Kira, Quinn, Jorgan, Vette, Risha - and a lot of people would be overjoyed. Four men, four women; equal number from each faction + KOTFE. That does leave an uneven number of mlm/wlw possibilities but there are two of each, as well. And those companions can certainly have platonic friendly conversations with the PC, too. I personally really miss Vette, Talos, Xalek, Blizz, Ashara and Jaesa being in my story. And many others, too.

The things being offered by GS are things that story players enjoy - decos, new strongholds, companions with side story missions - and this makes it even more frustrating that story players are being expected to PVP, GSF and use Group Finder, unless they want to buy their way through, to get them. Don't get me wrong - the fact that it's all optional makes me less angry at EA/BW than Iokath and Oricon did, by a long shot. All the same, it's a shame they're setting it up this way, because if they gave story/solo players objectives that were not PVP and group based, I think they'd be seeing a lot more excitement and engagement right about now. 

Right now, it seems EA/BW is far more interested in catering to a smaller player group who enjoys side content that the rest of the player base has to be actively bribed and coerced to play. Should PVP and GSF get development? Sure, if people enjoy it. Should the game try to funnel the rest of us into it? No. The fact that players don't want to be there, and have expressed that sentiment again and again, and constantly need to be bribed and coerced into it, should be a wakeup call. But EA/BW is still sleeping and hitting the snooze button. 

SWTOR is a story-based game. Raids, PVP, GSF are all wonderful for those who enjoy them but they are not for everyone. Players in a story based game need story. 

[maireadralph]

Just a little update now that I feel up to writing a lot

First off I just want to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who participated in the Entrapdak Zine - maaaan that was awesome!!  I’m still gobsmacked that there was not only interest but also overwhelming support for what is a little simple PDF zine - you guys, gals and non-binary pals even surpassed the Johto Zine in page count I was not expecting that to happen!

Secondly oh hell yeah I’m up for doing another Entrapdak Zine same as the current one but with a few changes:  

I’m trying to work out a sizing for art that’ll make every art borderless where possible (that’s always been a goal of mine) and make a template available for anyone who’d like to use that

If something comes in landscape/wallpaper sizing I’ll experiment with having a segment at the end that’s a two page spread so that those Readers who can set their PDF reader to two page spread can enjoy that feature

Again I’ve no problem with artwork coming in that’s not the template sizing - that is a benefit of a digital zine, we don’t need to worry about that stuff so much we have a weird freedom in that respect.  If you’re okay with borders, I’m okay with putting it in.

IMO Yes to keeping:

Posting older work (fics or art)

AUs (spacebats, spacebats everywhere)

Fanfics

Poems

No sign up, just submit, anyone can submit regardless of age

Submitting Anonymously will still be an option for those that need it

Everything with pro-Entrapdak content welcome

Other characters allowed as long as Entrapdak are the main focus

PG-13 rating so that everyone can enjoy it anywhere

Digital (easier to share - it still blows my mind that as soon as I posted it online here in London, it was available in America, Europe and the rest of the world at the EXACT SAME time)

A secret post-deadline grace period (but longer this time maybe two weeks?)

One art per person on the cover (I just thought that was a super cute way of making everyone be equal)

Free (that way there’s no money being made so hopefully no legal problems should arise)

Pretty much 99% the same everything

I may have to mention minimum clothing requirements in future. There was some submissions I had to discuss with my hubby if that was suitable for a PG13 audience.  It's all part of the learning curve so don’t you worry 😂 (spoiler: I thinking the minimum clothing requirements for male presenting characters to be speedos/underpants and for female presenting characters to be a bikini/bra and underpants and if not sure please use the female presenting criteria)

Is there anything people would like to see or would prefer things to be done differently?  I’m open to constructive feedback  This is our community’s Zine afterall!  I know some Zines have sign ups and waitlists and here’s me in the corner with a catcher’s mitt screaming “yeet it at me and I’ll catch it!!” 🤣

For reference I’m thinking the next Zine would be available by November/December time - in time for the Holiday Season.  I’m not sure on exact timings yet as I need to work out my own personal timings for that time of the year so please bare with me.  As to the theme (if anyone wants it) I’m thinking the vague “Holiday” or “Holiday Seasons” (which can be flexible enough to be interpreted as Easter, summer holidays, Halloween and the Christmas season) but if someone has a better idea I’d love to hear it! 💜💙

Side note 1: To anyone who has submitted work via the email address please know as promised every email in that accounts inbox and sent folders was sent to the trash approx three days after the Zine went live.  They will be wiped fully from the Trash automatically within 30 days, if someone wishes for them to be deleted faster just say so and I will nuke the lot immediately.  Currently only my laptop and iphone have access to that email account and there are no other records of any personal email addresses.  I did have a Google Excel sheet I kept a track of submissions but that only has the same social medias that were shared in the credits pages

Side Note 2: Ray (formerly known as Rae) knows this Zine exists.  I don’t know if they’ve read it or if they are allowed to partake or comment in fandom related things but please know they know it exists (and have been ❤️ing some of the works over on Twitter)

~~~~~~~

Okay that’s Zine ideas out of the way for now.  Next on my agenda is addressing Hordak Appreciation.  I did openly discuss this previously and I was thinking of August 2nd to co-inside with the anniversary of the episode “Huntara” (aka if you didn’t like Hordak then, you certainly did after that episode)

However that’s too soon after the Zine (whoops that ran a little over) and I don’t want to burn anyone out.  I’m not saying we can’t do something for August 2nd, I’m just saying it’s not fair to expect everyone to be ready or able to do something for August 2nd - we all have lives outside of the internet and fandom.  

So I’m thinking with Entrapta’s birthday being Jan 24th and Hordak’s being Feb 18th...

…why not make that Entrapdak Appreciation Season with the birthdays being the individual character’s appreciation day (and we get Valentine’s Day as a bonus 😉😘)  

During this time we can share fanart and fanfics, stream the show on Netflix party, go on mic chats whatever - just have a lot of fun SFW and NSFW (but please tag NSFW for those that don’t wish to see it) .

Also I’d like to note that for a special Day I’ll be personally be starting that “day” from 00:01 in the earliest possible timezone (UTC+14) and finishing on 00:01 on the latest possible timezone (UTC-12) so that we can all enjoy the festivities at the same time and for as long as possible - that’s my plan 🎉

Again please throw some ideas around, maybe we can do prompts or crossovers or ficlets or something - there’s months to plan this so let’s plan something fun

…

…

Wow I wrote a lot...see I’m dangerous when I get the chance to write stuff 😂

[mrsmaddiebobaddie]

MCYT High School Teacher AU

I don’t know if this has already been done but with student teaching on the brain this was invading my subconscious.

Phil: Principal

The most chill admin you’d ever find (He kind of has to be with the staff at the school)

Will let most things slide if you ask nicely

Has a quiet space in his office for students to take a moment to calm down after acting out. He’ll offer them candy and talk through the situation with them. 

Started out as a counselor at the school, so he still holds a similar mentality when it come to talking with students and staff. 

Always takes the side of his staff. The district is usually in the wrong anyway.

He knows the teachers are the experts, screw whatever requirements the state has, he lets them run their classrooms whichever way is best for the students’ learning

Technoblade:  Literature & Composition

One of the most engaging teachers at the school

Most students love him because he’s real and he’ll tell it like it is. 

Has a coffee machine in his room. It’s rare that he’s not holding a mug in his hand while he teaches

Has high expectations for his students

Rarely gets angry. Even when he’s upset he still comes across as calm.

Usually stays at the school late making sure to give the best possible feedback on papers and reports. He genuinely wants each kid to learn something from his class.

Tommy: Speech and Debate

It’s only his second year of teaching

The students would run the classroom if not for Tommy basically being a student himself

There’s a strong chance his class will be off topic at any given point. It’s always an adventure walking past his door, you never know what you’ll hear

Somehow still gets high scores on average from his students

Keeps students after class when he notices them struggling with school or life in general to talk with them. The conversations are always beneficial.

Will 100% fall asleep during professional development meetings.

Karl: Biology

Tries to act hip, fails most of the time.

Always has the most energy in his lessons, finds unique ways to teach the concepts other than slides and worksheets.

Usually the first one in the building each morning

Will give students different options for final projects so they can chose the best method of showing their evidence of learning. 

Gets lower scores than he should on observations because he doesn’t do well under the pressure. One year Phil didn’t announce when he’d be coming in and watched from the door to give a more accurate review. 

Wears a sweatshirt to class more often than he should

Quackity: Spanish 

Hands on learning whenever possible

Uses the home ec. room to make authentic Mexican dishes with his students when they cover the food and restaurant unit

Will just forget that the kids don’t speak Spanish fluently and ramble on until someone interrupts him.

Slow grader, you get your scores when you get them.

Known to be a bit chaotic with his teaching style, it works for some kids but he does need to reteach certain sections every now and then

One time a kid feel asleep in his class so he had all the other students leave and they had class outside to freak the kid out (They were right outside the classroom window, he could still see the sleeper, he told Phil)

Skeppy: Algebra

Like’s his job, pretty much your average teacher

Can’t stand freshmen, but tolerates them since that’s half the students he has. He prefers teaching advanced algebra to upper classmen

His lessons are always formatted the same, starting with a lesson on how to do that days math, with the remainder of the period being free work time

Holds math challenges with his class and gives out prizes. It’s usually candy, though one time he gave out cash. He made his kids promise not to say a word about it. 

Very good at teaching the same math concepts in different ways to help struggling learners

Always one minute away from being late for first period, but makes it just in time every morning.

Dream: Health/Football and Assistant Basketball Coach

Took the teaching job mainly to coach sports

Still cares about making connections with his students, he uses his class to teach life skills and promote positive social and mental health.

If any of his players are in his class he will pick on them. He has no mercy.

Dreads sex education because no one can be mature about it. He gets revenge by making the students film a “how to say no to sex” video with someone in the class.

His wheeze laugh is iconic. You can hear it from down the hall.

If you meet with him and are honest when you’re struggling, he’ll work with you to pass his class. He isn’t going to ruin your GPA over a project on the negative effects of smoking.

Wilbur: History & Geography/Theater 

The teacher who sits on his desk when he lectures

Is very sarcastic with his students, but knows who can take the teasing and makes sure not to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

Prefers class discussion over solo work time, he likes hearing student’s perspectives and ideas.

Turtlenecks

One of the teachers most likely to be the crush of teenage girls. 

Not afraid to mark you down for sloppy work. You use a black ink pen and draw precise lines when turning in maps and graphs or you redo it.

Speaks in musical references 

George: Physics

The chillest teacher by far

Due dates? Don’t worry, he’ll accept an assignment literally months after it was supposed to be turned in

Makes difficult topics seems simple when he describes them

He doesn’t really care if you have your phone out in class as long as you’re paying attention and learning the material

The students straight up call him George, he doesn’t seem to care

Placing near the top for the most crushed on teacher

King of multiple choice questions

Eret: Economics & Government

Makes any student in his class feel welcome

One of few teachers who can lecture the entire period without students falling asleep. He always has interesting stories

Let’s kids chose where they sit

Freshmen are always caught off guard by his voice when they hear him for the first time

Spends too much of his own money on supplies for his students and classroom (Honestly most teachers have to spend their own money on necessary supplies, he just goes about and beyond.)

There’s always a group of students who eat lunch in his classroom 

The Union Rep at their school, will fight tooth and nail for the staff members

Tubbo: Band Director

Super cheerful whenever he’s teaching

He rarely has any free time before or after school because he has so many one-on-one lessons and meetings with students

Likes to have practice outside when the weather is nice

Does his best to make his students feel comfortable and relaxed whenever he does performance based assessments. 

He’s also a new teacher, but you honestly wouldn’t be able to tell

He will be in tik toks if you ask him to, and he’s familiar with all the pop culture trends

Let’s the students chose a song to play at the last band concert. Some years have been less chaotic than others, the worst (or best, depending on who you ask) being when the students voted to play Deja Vu from Initial D.

Fundy: Computer Science/Coding 

Begins each class with a cheesy computer joke. Every class.

Everyone knows you can’t get anything past him technology wise. He can see that headphone in your ear from across the room.

Isn’t afraid to assign extra work when students are disrupting class

Once took up an entire class period showing his students how he coded different difficulties in Minecraft. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he plays the game in his spare time. 

About half the students in his class aren’t really interested in computers, they just want to have him as a teacher since everyone says he’s cool.

Known to hack school computers to bypass restrictions

Sucker for pizza parties. Has at least one per semester  

Sapnap: PE/Basketball Coach

Hella competitive 

Abuses his power of having a whistle. Someone should really take it away from him

Gyms shorts every day. Even in the winter. Sometimes he wears sweats, but never jeans.

Doesn’t let anyone sit out of activities

Tries to set up fun tournaments for each activity they do, makes sure to balance the teams so no one has too much of an upper hand.

He’s usually the teacher who mans detention, he tries to make it as positive as it can be though.

Keeps extra sets of gym clothes to give to students who forgot or can’t afford to buy them

Schlatt: Calculus and Stats/Business  

You either love him or are terrified of him

One of the only teachers who can have an “aggressive” teaching style and still connect with students

You will learn something from his class, he makes sure of it. 

Doesn’t accept late work unless you have a really good reason why you couldn’t turn it in

Wears a tie every day

If another teacher needs a last minute sub during his prep period he’ll cover them. Doesn’t matter what subject, he can wing it

He was the reason the school started offering business studies as an elective due to some vague threats towards the district

Niki: Art/German

Teaching voice is so soft

You can’t tell whether or not she’s giving you constructive criticism because everything she says sounds so positive 

Let’s her students lead learning for the most part, she will cover topics that most interest them while still trying to hit the district required standards (luckily teaching electives gives her a bit more freedom with her curriculum)

Her classroom always smells lovely

Will bring in homemade goodies each Friday for the staff room

Holds art galleries at the end of each semester to show off the arts since they often go unappreciated. It has turned out to be a super popular event for students and staff.

Bad: Special Education

This man has endless patience. It’s crazy

Even after the longest days when none of the students are cooperating, he still has a smile on his face

If he hears cursing in the halls he will call you out in front of everyone. Teachers included. 

Makes sure to keep a list of all his students favorites so he can surprise them with gifts on their birthdays or around holidays

He works closely with the other teachers to make sure his kids can be as involved in general education as possible.

Always wears something fun, be it a tie, socks, shirt, or even a full outfit. His students love seeing what new wacky garment he’ll be wearing that day. 

More Head Cannons

If someone brings food for the staff room Tommy WILL take it. Sometimes he’ll come back for seconds, there will be none left by the end of the day. He’s not as bad as Skeppy though, who will literally pack it up to take home for later.

For the past few months the staff members have been receiving anonymous email chains with photoshopped pictures of each other. Everyone was sure Fundy was behind it, Eret thought he saw him teaching his students how to use the program by editing their favorite teachers into stupid situations (they’ve all been school appropriate of course). Fundy did in fact start it, but now so many other teachers have joined in that it can’t be traced back to one person anymore.

All the teachers love going to sporting events. They’ll join in with the student section to cheer on the teams. If they know there’s a kid who doesn’t have family that will come to watch them they’ll make shirts with that players number to show support for them.

Wilbur, Niki, and Tubbo work together on musicals. Niki does the sets and costuming, Wilbur directs, and Tubbo leads the pit. There are plenty of long nights during tech week that devolve into chaos (especially when Niki isn’t there)

Spirit week is very intense, to say the least. The teachers are assigned a grade to be advisors to, and they get into it. For the duration of the week they practically become rivals with whoever isn’t in their assigned grade. They’ll pull pranks on each other constantly, especially when the students can see. It’s all playful of course, but it gets the kids more excited about spirit week when they can support their teachers and watch the amicable rivalries carry out.

Technoblade once joked that he knew every detail about every classic novel. His students took this as a challenge, and tried to find the most obscure and specific trivia questions they could ask him. He has yet to be stumped.

Dream and Sapnap had a running streak of about four weeks where they made everything into a competition. Who could enter their grades into the computer fastest? How many cups of coffee did they drink that day? Who got to school first that morning? There was a tally board in the staff room and the teachers had a betting pool going. Phil finally ended it when they accidently broke the school’s copier trying to see who could scan the most documents in five minutes. Dream was ahead by three points, Sapnap never lived it down.

In service days are incredibly boring, so the staff tries to make those days a bit more entertaining. They order in pizza or sandwiches for lunch. Since there aren’t any kids in the school they’ll do everything they’re no supposed to, like racing office chairs down the hallways and blasting non-school-appropriate music in their classrooms.

Wilbur accidentally started a black market of sorts when he took all the new whiteboard pens from the supply closest. He used this to his advantage, getting people to do him favors in return for the good supplies. When Dream found out he not-so-jokingly threatened to slowly steal everything from Wilbur’s classroom until he released the pens. The next day the closet was replenished once more

Quackity and Tommy are co-emcees for the school assemblies. They hold class competitions between the grades, including spirit chants and ridiculous games. Think minute to win it style, but way crazier. Everyone gets super into it, the upperclassmen usually win. The two have good chemistry and a fun energy.

George has a unit where students make bottle rockets and launch them outside on the soccer field. And every year Karl brings his class out to watch claiming that “it’s science, I teach science, I’ll have them write a paragraph about what they learned”. Really he just wants to watch rockets go brrr

For Schlatt’s birthday one year, Wilbur and Techno printed off shirts with his face on it for all the staff to wear. Schlatt was super confused when he came into work and all his colleagues were walking around with his face plastered across their chest. He got back at Wilbur for it by putting salt in his coffee for a week straight, but Techno never got his comeuppance. It’s debatable whether Schlatt just didn’t know he was in on it, or if he knew better than to mess with Techno.

Lesson planning and curriculum building is quite the process. Some departments can stay on task better than others. Schlatt and Skeppy get in, plan out the term, and get out. The math department has everything on lock. Social studies are also pretty good at getting pre-planning done. They tend to spend most of their time having discussions that aren’t necessarily related to the tasks at hand though. The English department is a mess. It’s really Tommy who’s a mess, he just projects that onto everyone else. Karl and George work well together to map out science curriculum. Even though teachers who teach electives aren’t required to collaborate with each other, they still get together and bounce ideas off each other and get feedback.

I have plenty more if people want a second part. I also only listed the MCYTs that I’ve watched enough to know their personalities at least a little bit, but if you wanted to see another person I may expand the staff list!

[olitech]

Thoughts on the Z Fold 3

The Samsung Galaxy Z Fold 3 is an interesting device. While it is not the first foldable device made by Samsung, and not even the first foldable device on the market in general (though Samsung certainly was the first real company, I'm not really counting the horrible Royole Flexpai) for me personally, this is indeed my first foldable device.

So what is it like? For context, I am a long term Samsung user, having used the S2, S3, Note 4, S7 edge, S9+, and recently the S21 Ultra. Coming from the S21 Ultra the Z Fold 3 isn't that extreme in size, and folded it lies even better in my hand because it is less wide. Typing on the slimmer front screen is certainly something you have to get used to though.

The weight increase of 44 grams from the S21 Ultra's 227 grams to the Fold's 271 grams is noticeable. It isn't the end of the world or tipping the scale into "This is way to heavy" territory, but you will notice it when you handle them one after the other. The Z Fold 3 is, however you hold or handle it, definitely not a small or light device. Considering you have a foldable tablet in your hands, that fact isn't really surprising - it is kind of the point of this whole thing.

So If you want something small and light, you are definitely in the wrong market segment if you are looking at this phone.

The device can be unlocked with the fingerprint reader in the Power button on the right side, which I massively appreciate. I guess they can't yet fit an under display fingerprint reader into this kind of display due to size constraints and I am happy that's the case. I have an under display fingerprint reader on my S21 Ultra and my Galaxy Tab S6 and constantly have to retry with both of them to unlock these devices. These fingerprint readers have not yet gotten to the same level of performance the old ones are capable of, so I am really glad the "old" tech has made it into this device. If you want to unlock your phone with your face, that works perfectly fine, but in a world full of masks today the fingerprint reader is in my opinion the most versatile option, when done this way at least.

For my use cases, this thing is clearly overkill, I'll be really honest. Watching a Youtube video or TV Show is really nice on this device, especially if you want to watch classic shows like Star Trek The Original Series or Knight Rider, because the unfolded screens aspect ratio of 5:4 is really nice for those old 4:3 shows. 16:9 content is fine too, but there is of course quite a bit of screen real estate you are not using in those cases. But since this is more of a productivity device, 5:4 is the perfect aspect ratio in my opinion.

Typing on the unfolded screen is nice, but takes some getting used to. I have been using this phone since I have received it on Friday the 20th of August 2021, which has been 5 weeks now, and I still mistype quite a bit. I don't know why it takes me so long to get used to the split keyboard I use with Microsoft Swiftkey. When typing or swiping on the screen the crease of the folded display is very noticeable. When you watch or read something it quickly becomes absolutely not an issue, I couldn't care less. But you definitely will feel the crease with your fingers or even with the S-Pen.

Coming to the S-Pen, and the Note package available for this device. I like the S-Pen for the Fold 3. I have the smaller one of the two available since Samsung gave me the Galaxy Z Fold 3 Note package for free as a promotion for preordering the phone. The Note package contains a Super Fast Wall Charger supporting up to 25W, and this should have come with the phone itself in my opinion. I understand the environmental concerns these companies cite as the reason they don't put chargers into the box anymore, but for this price I simply cannot accept that this is the case. It just feels cheap when you open up such an expensive device and there is the phone and a cable in the box and nothing else.

I'm sorry but I have to start swearing for the next section of this article. You have been warned.

The Flip Cover that comes in the Note package is a horrible fucking mess and I don't want to meet whoever designed this thing because I would be scared of that person and the drugs they must have taken designing this thing. The cover doesn't stay closed, flops around like a flaccid dick and just feels like cheap crap. I cannot tell you how glad I am they gave that package to me as a free promotion for preordering, because if I bought this package and actually paid 89,90 Euros of my money for this cover I would have been fucking pissed.

Samsung, if anyone of you is reading this, you can do better than this. Much better. It feels like someone decided 5 minutes before production started "Hey we have this new folding phone, and we decided not to make a new Note, so why not combine the Pen with the Fold 3?" and wanked out a design on a napkin during dinner while the kids were screaming at them.

I am not a massive fan of the magnetically attached pens the Galaxy Tab Series and the iPad use, so I appreciate having a place to actually store the pen in, but the front opening part of that cover makes this thing completely useless in my eyes. And I think they kind of knew that, since you can take off the part of the cover the pen stores in - a fact I didn't see anywhere other then one single Youtube video made by the channel HighTechCheck in his video "Best And Worst Cases For Samsung Galaxy Z Fold 3", here is the link, it's a great video in general if you're looking for cases for this phone:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2TBKlm-R2E&ab_channel=HighTechCheck

There might be other videos showing this feature of the Note Flip Cover of course, but this is the only one I came across while looking for accessory videos for this device.

Continuing on with the S-Pen, I understand that they had to make a new version because people would've poked holes into their screens with the old one - the new one is spring loaded to prevent you from pressing the pen to hard onto the screen - but what I do not like about the new S-Pen (at least the little one, I don't have the bigger one to test this with) is that you can only use it on the inner screen of the Z-Fold 3. That's right, the smaller of the S-Pens available for the Z Fold 3 does not work on the outer display of the phone when it is closed. I do not know why that is. It works perfectly fine on my S21 Ultra screen, but not on the outer screen of the Z Fold 3. I find that very bizarre. The outer screen has Gorilla Glass Victus on it, it certainly isn't a matter of screen protection. And it works on the S21 Ultra, so what the hell?

I'm a tech nerd, so I love the technology behind the foldable screen and the new form factor this results in. But I don't write 20 emails a day on my phone, or write a book on it, or anything like this. I use the big screen on the Z Fold 3 mainly for content consumption, Google Maps occasionally, web browsing, looking a photos, stuff like that. I am not a productivity monster that actually does multi tasking with a device like this. It is a great phone and the continuation of a new era in mobile technology and screen technology, and I'm glad I could be here to support that change because this means cool things might come out in the future with this technology. Could I still do everything I usually do on my S21 Ultra? Yes, yes I could, easily. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I bought this thing, but for someone like me this is massive overkill, as it probably will be for most people. Most people who buy this thing with their own money might not agree with that I guess. They have to justify the price of 1800 Euro for this thing after all. But I prefer to be honest with myself, and with you.

This is not a sensible device. It is absolutely a fun device and a great look into the future of what will one day be possible with this display tech, not just in the smartphone world but with screens in general. Just like that rollable LG TV this is technology that can be used for so much more than smartphones - it doesn't even have to be foldable. Just being able to put a display around a corner like it is a plastic sheet and having that in a fixed position opens up cool possibilities, once the tech is even better, and most of all, cheaper.

So no, it doesn't make my S21 Ultra look like unusable crap when compared to the Z Fold 3 just because of the foldable aspect. But in my opinion that's not the point of this device. It is to further push along the technology and establish it so it becomes more common place. So it gets better, can be made better, not just because the manufacturer Samsung is continuing to work on it, but because they get feedback from users about the device. The more established and researched a technology becomes, the cheaper it can become, meaning better and new usage forms for this technology in everyday life. Take a screen like that, make it see-through and put it into my car windscreen. It doesn't need to fold for that, but it does have to be durable, and depending on the windscreen, at least bent in some form. Give me overlay graphics on my car window for navigation. Give me glasses not like Google Glass with a small area of a screen but have the glasses BE the screen with this technology in a see through version. Give me a Cyberpunk 2077 style visor. That would really be exciting for me. What this phone and it's display technology represent is what is more interesting and exciting for me than the device itself. But the device itself is still great and I do not regret buying it. If you're into tech and have the necessary funds for it, I can recommend it. Maybe you are even a person that uses this device to its full multi-task capabilities, who knows?

Speaking of which, multi tasking is a breeze with this thing, it's perfectly fine running several apps at once, not just switching between apps but displaying several at the same time since you now have the screen real estate to actually use it. Since I just launched my homepage (this will be the first entry on it, actually) who knows, maybe I will use more multitasking myself in the future when writing stuff on the go, reading and researching in the browser and typing a note on the side perhaps. I doubt it, since for real writing I really don't like to use the touchscreen, but if I have a quick idea on the go and I have time, I could definitely see this being very useful.

Battery life is not an issue either for me, last week I had a day where I watched 6 hours of Star Trek The Original Series on it at around 80% brightness and was around 65% battery when I stopped, which is pretty impressive in my eyes. I have the episodes on my phone, so I wasn't streaming them over the network in case anyone is wondering.

The software has so far given me no troubles, not all apps scale to the screen but they still usually work without issues, and many apps like Youtube for example are adapted to use the foldable aspect of the Z Fold 3 in several ways, like when you half-fold the phone, set it on a table, and have the video on the top and scroll the comments on the bottom. Or multi task by having one app on the top and other on the bottom, stuff like that works really well in most apps I am using, I can't really recall any app right now that had huge issues with the aspect ratio or the foldable nature of this device. Good job Samsung!

The back cameras are on par with the S21 Ultra, so they're in my opinion top, but I'm no expert. What even I notice is the inner camera under the display. No longer is there a hole punch style camera, this one is actually under the display, which drastically decreases the performance of that inner camera. It's usage for video calls I guess, but for a device in that price range I think I would've been fine with a hole-punch style just to get the better image quality. I've made a comparison video on Youtube, comparing the front camera of the S21 Ultra and the Z Fold 3:

https://youtu.be/h5uQ1IQeIvE

The Z Fold 3 is a tech nerds dream come true, and really does whatever you need it to do. Whether you actually need all of that and if it is worth the money is for you to decide. If you already have a tablet you use for media consumption, and if you aren't a huge productivity fan or need one device that does it all and can carry nothing else, then I'd say no, you don't need it. But you might still want it just the same, like me.

Sunday, October 3rd, 2021.

Oliver Weber

[artificialqueens]

Girls Interrupted, Chapter 2: She Wants To Dance Like Uma Thurman, But She Can’t (Vatya) 2/2 - Maeve

A/N: Hi, it’s Maeve here, and holy fuck this is long! Sorry for the wait, everyone, it’s been a real time. I’ll admit that I spent a lot of time collecting firsthand accounts of real teen parties because homegirl has never been to one of the cool kid ones. I feel no personal shame! I hope you all enjoy it. I’m a one woman show over here, but I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible with the characterization of the queens. There are some parts of this chapter that might be a little confusing, but that’s because the story is told through Katya’s eyes and she doesn’t always have all of the information. She will soon, though! As always, constructive criticism (really feedback of any kind) is welcome. If there’s interest, I’ll drop my sideblog one of these days. Here’s some petty teenage bullshit to take your mind off of the outside world.

What do normal people wear? What’s ‘in’ with the youths? Katya furrowed her brow. She grew out of following trends in middle school. The clothes weren’t her, and they didn’t magically assimilate her into a friend group either. So Katya was no manic pixie dream girl, more of a manic sexy carny And that was okay…most of the time. There would be a wide variety of teens at the party—Alaska ran in many different circles—but all of them had eyes, and Katya wasn’t about to make Alaska question her judgement over unironically worn Hawaiian print. She’d have to pass for artistically different. Dresses were risky, so Katya opted for a pair of skintight black denim shorts and a well-worn Warner Brothers Studios shirt. A good french tuck and a statement jacket were just enough to polish off her shabby-chic ensemble. It would have to be good enough.

Katya’s freshly washed hair had dried in loose waves that framed her face beautifully. Two things she refused to guilt herself into were shaving her legs and putting on makeup, and she wore her bangs down to hide the hairline she was so self-conscious about. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone. Katya had given up on that a long, long time ago. She glanced at the clock. It was only a few minutes past 6:00. Living in a constant state of perpetual anxiety was a real bitch.

Katya sighed, Wheel of Fortune and Diet Coke it is. Her parents were at the neighborhood’s annual Back to School Barbecue, so she had the entire house to herself. She hoped there would be a familiar face or two—or at the very least caffeine—at Alaska’s house.

Katya could hear the music coming from the inside of Alaska’s house through her massive front door. It was a hot and humid evening, yet Katya chose to linger in the yard. She wasn’t the first one there, and she wouldn’t be the last one, either; there was just something about crossing the solid oak barrier that made her presence…pressing. Awkward, even.

Alaska wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you to be here, Katya reminded herself. She knew this was true—Alaska Honard was an absolute sweetheart—but her paranoia got the best of her. She pulled out her phone and sent a message to ‘Bianca del Realest’:

I’m outside. Walk me in? I don’t wanna know if pigs’ blood comes out of denim.

Her phone vibrated seconds later with a response from Bianca:

Pussy.

Soon, the door opened, revealing a smug Bianca del Rio. Katya grinned, “Yes, I do have a pussy, mama, and I’m serving fish all night.”

Bianca howled, “I don’t put things in me if I don’t know where they’ve been, and you’re a filthy whore.”

“You rotted cunt! That was a rash, not a herpes sore!” Katya protested.

“Just get your ass in here, Zamo, before the neighbors call the police to report a solicitor on the premises,” Bianca stepped aside so Katya could enter.

The first thing she saw was an ornately framed oil painting of Alaska and her family. It had to be at least her height. “Holy mother of pearl…” Katya gaped.

“Mother of Alaska, actually. Father and sister, too,” Bianca corrected. Katya gave her a shove. “What? I do this out of love, honey.” The blonde rolled her eyes. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Bianca grabbed hold of Katya’s arm and steered her towards the kitchen.

Alaska’s kitchen—which was a literal gourmet kitchen—was relatively empty save for an entire island of snacks and several coolers with drinks. She could still feel the thrum of the bass in her teeth, but the walls muffled the music’s full volume. What Katya found most shocking was actually who was in the kitchen. Trixie Mattel was leaning against the sink in a pair of light wash jeans and a flowing pink top.

Wow, Katya’s eyes went wide. She was in the same room as Trixie Mattel, about to be introduced by their apparently mutual friend, and she desperately needed to be able to pull herself together.

“Oh, honey, send in the clowns!” Trixie exclaimed, noticing Bianca’s return.

“I prefer to be called an erotic clown,” Bianca shot back. Katya snorted. “This is the creature I was telling you about.” Bianca gave Katya a small shove forward.

“Hi, I’m the chemical burn from the spiral perm, Trixie Mattel,” Trixie introduced herself extending a well-manicured hand. “I sit across from you in English, but we’ve never really talked.”

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova. But your dad just calls me Katya,” Katya winked and took Trixie’s hand, gently kissing her knuckles. Inside her head, Katya was screaming, Fuuuuuuuck. However, Trixie’s smile only grew. The life-sized Barbie doubled over with laughter.

Trixie turned to Bianca, “I’ll keep her!” Katya scrunched up her nose. She didn’t realize she was for sale.

“Just make sure to walk her often. She’s not house trained,” Bianca warned.

Katya wasn’t given the chance to retort because the door that connected the main room to the backyard flew open, and all three girls reached to cover their ears as Travis Scott’s voice grew three times as loud. An out-of-breath Jinkx Monsoon stood in the doorway, and her mouth began to move.

“What?” Bianca shouted over Sicko Mode.

Jinkx came further into the kitchen and screamed, “I said the hotshots just pulled up! If you don’t wanna get trampled, we should probab—”

“Bottoms up, bitches!” Willam shouted from somewhere in the hall. A cacophony of voices seemed to flood the space all at once, and then the kitchen was swarmed with all of the juniors on the cheer squad and football team. Hands and bodies were everywhere. Katya, standing at 5’1”, was swept away in the sea of future frat boys. Thankfully, the kitchen was only a stop on their route, and once the kitchen had been successfully raided, the four girls could get their bearings.

Jinkx straightened her dress. “Leave. I was going to say leave,” she finished her earlier thought and slumped against the kitchen island. “The real party’s out back. Now with added kegs.”

“Now, this I gotta see,” Bianca chuckled, “You in?” Katya shrugged and followed Bianca and Trixie past the horndogs sucking face in the living room and into Alaska’s massive backyard. She didn’t know what she’d gotten herself into, and she didn’t see it getting any better.

The glass doors let out onto a patio with a cabana and firepit. Stone steps led down to yet another seating area and a resort-style pool filled with floats, fountaints, and colored lights. There must’ve been at least a hundred people outside. She’d never seen so much illicit activity in one place. What was the word? Collusion? Collusion. Collusion vibes but not in a good way, Mama. We’re all going to hell, Katya swallowed thickly. The blonde was overwhelmed by the sweaty bodies, loud music, and flashing lights. Was this what a rave was like? The kegs by the pool were a happening place, and she planned to avoid them as much as possible.

When she looked to her right, she noticed Bianca had slipped away unnoticed, leaving her completely and utterly alone with one Trixie Mattel. Fuck. Again.

“Come get a drink with me!” Trixie insisted. She might not have been entirely comfortable alone with her crush, but tagging along was a significantly better option than hiding in a corner. The two pushed their way towards the booze. Trixie filled a red solo cup for Katya before grabbing one for herself and maneuvering them over to the poolside loveseat.

Katya’s drink felt awkward clutched in her hands. She knew that most highschoolers had experience with alcohol, but it was different watching her peers getting trashed. What’s the point? Katya wondered.

“That’s gonna get warm, you know?” Trixie snapped Katya out of her thoughts.

Katya gave her a sheepish smile, “I don’t really drink. Like at all. I just took it so you didn’t think I was lame.”

“Oh, honey,” Trixie began softly, “I would never judge you for something like that. Here, let me take that.” She made a grab for Katya’s cup, but Katya pulled it away.

“One sec!” Katya stuck two fingers of her free hand right into her beer and pulled them out. She saw the confusion on Trixie’s face and gave her a mischievous look. Katya took her beer fingers and wiped the alcohol across the pulse points on her neck. Playing it safe, she repeated the action until all the places she’d usual spray with perfume were sticky with beer. She was sure she smelled like a distillery. Perfect. Once again, Trixie made a grab for the cub, but another hand beat her to it. Alaska Honard in all her glory snatched it from Katya and drained its contents.

“Thanksss, Kati,” Alaska slurred. “Jus’ needed a lil��� liquid courage before I go on.” She swooped down to give Katya a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Alaska was sloshed. Her makeup was smudged she was swaying on her feet, and she smelled worse than Katya, who had just taken a bath in her beer.

“Go on what, Alaska?” Needless to say, Katya was a bit concerned. Because the two had done most of the work for their partner scene the previous class, Alaska and Katya were able to spend the day’s 3rd period chatting away. The demure girl from earlier was nowhere to be found. She was beginning to wonder if her friend had even processed her question when Alaska finally responded.

“‘M gonna be a star, Kati,” Alaska giggled. “Britney, bitch!” She then proceeded to fist up the fabric at the bottom of her dress and try to pull her black bodycon sequin gown up and over her body. Katya could only watch as she writhed around and made pitiful whining noises in her attempt to undress. “Off!” Alaska pouted, giving Katya her best puppy dog eyes.

Katya shared a look with Trixie before standing up and carefully spinning the blonde around. Her small hands were perfect for pulling down tiny zippers, and the dress slid down Alaska’s lithe body and pooled at her feet. Katya’s throat went dry.

Underneath her dress, Alaska wore a lacy, black strapless bra and a matching set of panties. Katya could not handle it. She didn’t mean to stare, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Soft, pale, flawless, Katya took in the beauty in front of her. Talk about body-ody-ody. Alaska was toned with the supple legs of a dancer—unfortunately, she lacked a dancer’s poise. Katya’s aneurism was cut short when the cheerleader stumbled trying to get out of the offending garment.

“Geez, Alaska,” Katya exclaimed, “Would you be more careful?”

“I may not be graceful…” Alaska trailed off, beginning to sway on her feet.

“I need my Lasky!” Detox shouted from the edge of the pool. Alaska visibly perked at her nickname and gave Katya a sloppy goodbye kiss on the cheek before teetering off towards Detox and Roy.

What the fuck? Katya raised her eyebrows. She turned to Trixie in search of an answer as to what just happened, but all the blonde had to offer was a shrug. Katya looked back to Rolaskatox and noticed a few pertinent details she’d missed in her first glance: Roxy and Detox were also in their skivvies, three chairs were now in a row on the bridge that separated the two halves of the pool, and the music had stopped.

Katya tried to do the math in her head: liquid courage + 3 scantily clad girls x 1 chair - Kendrick Lamar = ???? She had to be missing something. “‘I’m gonna be a star,’” Alaska had said…Fame = liquid courage + 3 scantily clad girls x 1 chair - Kendrick Lamar. Katya’s brows knit together. Some kind of performance? And then it hit her. “‘Britney, bitch,’”…They’re performing a Britney Spears number practically naked. Obviously the ideal way to spend a Friday night. Katya could think of no other explanation for the weird happenings of the last few minutes, but the answer she’d arrived at wasn’t any less of an acid trip.

The three girls took their places behind the chairs, and Roxy, who had at some point manifested a microphone, gave pearl a thumbs up.

“Where my party people at?” Roxy shouted into the microphone. Praise Putin for Pearl because the feedback on the mic might have made their ears bleed. The crowd around the pool hooted and hollered. Yuck, Katya gagged on the high school movie realness. “We’ve got a special treat for you tonight! Our little Lasky here,” Roxy pushed Alaska forward, “Didn’t think that she was going to make the varsity cheer team.” Alaska flushed at her friends divulgence and squirmed in her grip. Naturally, Roxy paid no attention to her friend’s discomfort, “So Toxy and I, we made a bet: if Lasky didn’t make varsity we’d have a Golden Girls marathon, but if she did…she’d have to show off her sweet moves at the Back-to-School Bash!”

“Hit it, Pearl!” Detox shouted. Roxy tossed the microphone to someone near the end of the walk, and the three girls took their places by their chairs. Alaska was clearly less thrilled about the performance than she was when she had been talking to Katya minutes ago. Liquid courage? No dice. The instrumental intro into Britney Spears’ “Toxic” began to play from the outdoor speakers, and Alaska’s gyrated her hips mechanically to the beat.

Baby, can’t you see

I’m calling

A guy like you should wear a warning

It’s dangerous, I’m falling

Katya was dumbfounded. Mouth agape, she wondered, Does this shit happen at all high school parties? Mother, I swear I’m sober. She hadn’t had anything to drink, so she couldn’t have been drugged or anything crazy like that. This was, in fact, happening. And Katya had thought she was fucking mental. A glance to her side told her that she wasn’t the only one questioning her sanity; Trixie’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

There’s no escape

I can’t wait

I need a hit, Baby, give me it

You’re dangerous, I’m lovin’ it

Dangerous. There was something sinister about the atmospheric red that bathed the trio and spilled into the audience. Her hands began to tremble. Brenda, not now, she willed herself to calm down.

Too high

Can’t come down

Losin’ my head, spinnin’ ‘round and 'round

Do you feel me now?

It wasn’t just her shaking, though. Alaska’s body was vibrating with tension—not ‘loving it’. Her sisters in scandal moved a lot smoother than she did, and she was concentrating hard on keeping herself from falling off of her chair. How much “‘liquid courage’” did this bitch have? The trio had gotten up on their chairs at the beginning of the chorus and were doing what looked like Christina Aguilera choreography circa Genie in a Bottle. Katya wouldn’t be surprised if Rotox had actually gotten the wrong blonde when choreographing. Katya frowned, Alaska, please don’t crack your head open.

With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride

You’re toxic I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

And I love what you do

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

She regained her breath when the chair acrobatics were finally over. The dance routine had evolved into what could probably qualify as softcore porn. Roxy, Alaska, and Detox were writhing on the platform in an obscene manner. Katya thought they looked like cats in heat. Alcoholic cats in heat. Which was actually quite a shame because real alcoholic cats in heat were something that Katya would totally like to see.

It’s getting late to give you up

I took a sip from my devil’s cup

Slowly, it’s taking over me

Too high, can’t come down

It’s in the air and it’s all around

Can you feel me now?

Britney Spears you are a cruel bitch, Katya chewed her lower lip. She was trying her hardest not to feel anything.

With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

And I love what you do

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

If she weren’t so put off by the course the night had taken and concerned for her friend, she might have been more than a little turned on. There was no denying that Alaska was attractive—even as she flopped about like a fish on a marble platter—but her mother raised her right. We do not objectify women, and we definitely do not allow others to take advantage of inebriated ones.

Taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

Katya had to admit she was impressed. There really was no better way to draw attention to yourself than repeatedly slamming your pussy into the makeshift stage. It certainly seemed to be working now; she might just have to try it sometime.

Intoxicate me now

With your lovin’ now

I think I’m ready now

I think I’m ready now

Intoxicate me now

With your lovin’ now

I think I’m ready now

Roxy, Alaska, and Detox all struck their final poses. Katya could see their chests heaving wildly as they held for the raucous applause of the party guests standing poolside. It was certainly strange, but she couldn’t knock their performance. Kids would be kids, right? She was about to chalk it all up to a bit of harmless fun, after all, when tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber broke formation and pushed Alaska straight off of the platform. Suddenly, the tall blonde was in the water, limbs thrashing about in response to the sudden change in environment.

“Pool party!” Willam shouted, stripping off her own dress. Leave it to Willam to make a splash. Literally. For some reason the most inebriated of the guests decided that it was a fantastic idea to accidentally drown themselves instead of their sorrows. Soon, the pool was full of bodies and she could no longer keep track of her friend.

Alaska finally scampered to the steps with the stability of a newborn fawn. She all but fell out of the pool and took half of the water with her. Alaska’s mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her hair hung limp and matted. Roxy and Detox were nowhere to be found—either to help her clean up or to read her for filth. Coco Montrese and her longtime frenemy Miss Alyssa Edwards, however, were more than happy to fill in.

They sound like those brain dead hyenas from The Lion King, Katya snickered to herself. Maybe not that lady one, though. That bitch was fierce.

Alaska coughed up a mouthful of water right at their feet. “Hey, Coco,” She began, “Your makeup is terrible.” Coco wasn’t laughing anymore. Point Alaska.

“Have you seen yourself, mama?” Coco fired back, The blonde rolled her eyes and snatched the drink in Coco’s hand. Alaska tossed it back all in one go.

“Thanks,” Alaska drawled, tossing the empty cup back and wrapping herself in the first available towel.

Katya turned to Trixie with a question on her lips. “Does this happen often?” She asked. Trixie gave a low whistle.

“Pearl has dragged me to a lot of weird shit, but I think this might just be a first,” Trixie answered with gusto. She checked her watch, “And it’s not even 10:00! The night is still young, honey!”

Right, Katya thought, the night is still young. Just great.

Trixie soon ditched Katya for Pearl—something about the stupid pumpkin carriage coming to steal her friend after midnight—and Katya hadn’t known Trixie long enough to reasonably protest the abandonment. She hoped Bianca was somewhere inside the house.

There were still people in the living room, but it looked like the horny gremlins from earlier had finally gotten a room. Literally. Unfortunately, the cheerleaders that had taken their place were not much better. Head bitch Violet Chachki had her legs draped over one of the arms of a stately armchair in a carefree yet superior manner. Why anyone would want to be queen of the hot messes? Katya couldn’t tell you. But apparently power—or at least the perception of power—gave one Violet Chachki a raging hard on. Gag.

Bianca wasn’t in the room, but the blonde was determined to see her valiant quest through. Hopefully, she’d stumble upon a nunnery with some sexy ladies along the way. Sneaking past the wicked bitch of the west and her flying monkeys, she regrouped in the kitchen. Katya went down her mental checklist: Keys? Check. Assorted limbs? Check. Clothes? Check. Inhibitions? Check. Virtue? Debauched. Sanity? Remaining hopefully optimistic. Bianca? Still M.I.A. The kitchen was empty due to the commotion happening poolside. Chips crunched under the soles of Katya’s sneakers. That was another reason she didn’t enjoy being out in the general public for extended periods of time: bitches be nasty.

The second floor was significantly cleaner than the first. An entire floor of the Honards’ house was dedicated to entertainment. Katya knew that Alaska had an older sister, Nebraska, but she couldn’t fathom why any child—or two children for that matter—needed an entire floor to play. How could the rooms not feel so…empty? Katya wondered, shuddering involuntarily. The blonde couldn’t picture Alaska spending much time up here now. She felt as though she was looking at an abandoned playground and couldn’t help but think it made Alaska sad, too.

After a few moments, it became clear to Katya that Bianca wasn’t there, but she continued to linger on the landing. Her blue eyes were drawn to the set of stairs that would take her to the third floor. It was an idea for the pantheon of bad ideas; she was tempted nonetheless. Katya could hear her grandfather’s words in her head: ‘Curiosity killed the kitty, лисичка,’ What her Deda didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, I’m not that kind of pussy, am I? She justified.

Katya crept up to the dark third story of the house with the innocence of an intruder—she’d plead the fifth if necessary. The second door down from the landing was ominously open. Honestly, there may as well have been a big red arrow pointing towards the room because Katya’s feet were already carrying her towards it. Darkness engulfed the room, itself, save for a rectangle of warm light.

“Jinkxy, is that you?” Alaska groaned, presumably from the same direction as the light. “Jus’ leave the dress on the bed. Save the lecture for the morning.”

Katya cleared her throat, “Alaska? It’s Katya. Can I come in?” She received a grunt in response. The blonde followed the sound into what turned out to be Alaska’s master bathroom. Her friend was curled up against her marble tub with a beach towel wrapped around her.

“How was I, Kati?“ Alaska drawled.

Katya took a seat in front of her and pulled her legs to her chest. She thought for a moment before speaking, “80% sexy, 20% disgusting…like me.” Alaska whined. “Why are you still in your wet clothes?” She asked. Her friend shrugged. Right, Katya sighed. Alaska was half asleep; this wasn’t going to be a one woman job. Thankfully, Jinkx appeared moments later with her heels in one hand and Alaska’s little black dress in the other. Katya raised her hands in surrender. “I swear she was like this when I found her,” she blurted.

“This isn’t even the worst of it,” Jinx spoke candidly. She tossed her shoes onto the floor and pulled up her long, red hair. “I’ll wrangle the monkey if you go and find her some dry underwear and something to wear to bed.” Jinkx’s tone left no room for questioning.

Mother, I never thought I’d be a panty snatcher, much less an invited one, Katya made a face. Alaska’s dressers were easy to find, and she felt undeniably dirty as she began her game of panty roulette. Pulling open the first drawer, Katya sprang back, ready to strike. Assorted pajamas were hardly a foe, and she vanquished them swiftly. Rebel athleticwear laid in wait behind drawer number two. They, too, were no match for her feet of fury, Katya kicked the drawer shut with a battle cry.

“Katya, what the hell are you doing out there?” Jinkx called.

Katya had the dignity to look sheepish. “Nothing!” She shouted back. “Be there in a second!” The underwear turned out to be in the next drawer down. She thrust a hand inside without looking and tightened her grip on the first piece of fabric her hand found. Her feeling of triumph only lasted the few seconds it took for her to realize what she’d managed to retrieve: a lacy black teddy. Katya dropped the offending garment as if she’d been burned. I am going to hell, she shook her head, Straight to hell. I will not pass go, nor will I collect $100…Deuces never loses, right? The scarlet thong she fished out next begged to differ. Her face was almost as red as the fabric, itself, when she flung it across the room. Fortunately, the third time was the charm. The pastel pink boyshorts seemed like a more appropriate item to put on a drunk girl, so Katya returned to the bathroom to present her nightwear bounty to Jinkx.

The motherly redhead, unsurprisingly, was not impressed. Jinkx arched a brow expectantly.

“You see,” Katya began, “I wasn’t comfortable—I didn’t um feel right digging through her things without, you know, her permission?” She swallowed thickly. “So I thought maybe it would be less creepy if I just reached in and grabbed the first thing I touched. Well, you see, Alaska’s got such a wide range of tastes, and it-uh…It took a hot second to find something appropriate…for the…occasion?” She was expecting to find disgust when she raised her eyes to meet Jinkx’s, but the redhead cackled loudly instead.

“Lemme guess, you saw something you didn’t want to see?” Jinkx chortled. Katya managed a weak nod. “I’m sorry, doll, I forget that not everyone is as acquainted with Miss Honard’s unmentionables as little ol’ me.”

Not everyone is as acquain—Oh! Blue eyes threatened to burst from their sockets as Katya processed her words.  

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, not like that,” Jinkx exclaimed, reading the thoughts reflected on Katya’s face. “Lasky and I did community theater together. I’ve known her since the first grade. Drunk proof her nightstand for me? I’ll dress blondie over here.”

“Does this happen often?” Katya asked Jinkx after Alaska’s door was closed. The incapacitated cheerleader was finally sound asleep in her bed, and the two girls didn’t think she’d be up anytime soon.

Jinkx sighed sadly, “It didn’t use to. Roxy and Detox are more toxic than Drano, and there’s no one to stop her from going out with them. Look, Lasky’s a sweet girl. A good, smart girl. But she makes bad choices sometimes, and there’s nothing that I—that we—can do about it. She’s gotta be the one to say enough is enough.”

Katya understood. Katya understood more than she wanted to. She’d been a shell of a girl drowning in the voices in her head not too long ago. It didn’t matter how many hands reached out to her if she refused to take them. Alaska—happy and hopeful Alaska—might just be drowning, too. Katya wondered if she drank to impress, to keep up, or to forget.

Jinkx promised that she’d look over Alaska until the next morning, so Katya reluctantly chose to rejoin the land of the living downstairs. The first floor was significantly louder than it was when she left it. Games of flip cup and beer pong had picked up in the dining room, and Violet’s flock had not only grown, but had grown to include both Trixie and Bianca, who were trying their hardest not to laugh at the spectacle in the middle of the living area. Willam and Courtney were having a major bitchfest for all to see. Normally, Katya would run for the hills, but if Bianca and Trixie weren’t afraid of getting caught in the crossfire, she figured it was safe enough to stick around and tuned into the conversation.

“Your tone seems really pointed right now,” Willam pursed her lips. She was clearly the calmer of the two, as Courtney was beet red and positively radiating tension. Katya could tell Willam’s nonchalance was only winding the Australian up more.

Courtney folded her arms defensively. “Well, I’m sorry you think that, Willam,” she took a deep breath. “I feel like everything I say kinda comes from the heart, and I’m truly hurt that you threw yourself at Daniel when you knew how I felt about him.”

“Sorry ‘bout it,” Willam scoffed, picking at her nails. Her words reflected everything but the sentiment they were meant to.

Katya knew that Willam was a bitch, but this was a little much even for her. Willam and Courtney had been best friends since Courtney moved from Australia the summer of their freshman year; it was hard to believe that Willam would throw their relationship away. Katya held her breath. Everyone in the wings was uncomfortable during the pregnant pause. The scene before her was straight out of a 90s teen movie, and she didn’t have the popcorn to go with it.

All movement stilled when Willam finally looked up. “I tend to think emotions are for ugly people,” she deadpanned. The room let out a collective gasp. Courtney was across the room in a flash, and her palm made contact with Willam’s cheek. It would be logical to assume that Willam, who was just slapped across the face by her best friend, would be the most in shock at the sudden turn of events; it would also be the wrong conclusion. Courtney’s features were frozen in fear. The offending hand still hovered in the air, trembling like a leaf.

Willam was the first to react—and in a very uncharacteristic way. She engulfed the smaller girl in a tender hug. Courtney began to sob muffled apologies into her neck, and despite her obvious desire to recoil, Willam continued to hold her close.

Maybe Willam actually does have feelings, Katya’s eyebrows raised. The sight of Willam whispering words of reassurance into Courtney’s ear was enough to make even the coldest heart melt. Well, the coldest heart with the exception of Violet Chachki’s. Katya was pretty sure the stick up her ass was a permanent installment.

When the two pulled apart minutes later with smiles on their faces, they were met with a round of applause. Courtney wiped at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. If she noticed Willam’s arm around her waist, she didn’t give any indication as she addressed the spectators that had gathered, “Well, I’m gonna need to be less sober before I spill any more about myself. Truth or drink, anyone?”

Truth or drink? No thanks, Katya turned to sneak out. Unfortunately, Bianca had also chosen that exact moment to glance in her direction, and Katya was caught in the act.

“Bitch, you can’t leave yet. It’s not even midnight!” Bianca half whispered, half hissed.

And Bianca doesn’t associate with losers, Katya reminded herself. Don’t be a loser. “If my locker gets filled with worms next week, I will personally marinate you like a chicken,” she promised her friend.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Blame it on Bianca Del Rio. Take a number, sweetheart, you’re holding up the line,” Bianca patted the space next to her on the floor.

Laganja had batted her eyelashes—and used her mouth—to coerce one of the mindless jocks to bring in one of the kegs from outside for their “slumber party secret sesh”. There were fifteen girls, including Katya, who stuck around for the potentially risky game, and Katya wasn’t thrilled to be playing with most of them. Adore finished off her beer and placed the empty bottle in the center of the circle.

“Party!” Adore shouted before giving the bottle a good spin. Around, and around, and around it went before coming to a stop at Coco’s feet. “Miss Coco Montrese, truth or dare?” She asked.

“I’ll pick truth, mama,” Coco answered.

Adore thought for a moment before speaking, “Are you afraid that you’ll always be the runner up?” There was a chorus of oohs. Everyone knew that the race for junior varsity squad captain their sophomore year was a sore spot for both girls. It was no secret that Alyssa was originally chosen to be captain by her teammates. However, when she became implicated in a cheating scandal, Coach Calhoun was forced to denounce her and give Coco, Alyssa’s best friend and the candidate to receive the second most votes, the position. To make matters worse, it was rumored that Coco was the one who suggested that Alyssa had committed academic dishonesty in the first place. Alyssa and Coco had patched up their friendship over the course of the last year, but there was no telling whether or not the structure would hold if tested.

“Out of respect for me and Miss Alyssa, I am going to drink,” Coco responded without hesitance. Adore poured her a shot, and Alyssa gave her hand a grateful squeeze as she tossed it back. “Ain’t no use bringing up what’s past.”

Coco spun the bottle next, and it chose Trixie as its victim. “Truth or dare?” Coco asked.

“I think I’ll pick dare?” Trixie responded with hesitance. Katya didn’t know much about Coco Montrese, but for Trixie’s sake she hoped Coco was one of the nice ones.

Said cheerleader gave Trixie a small and genuine smile, “Okay, mama, I dare you to let Miss Pearl over here do your makeup. Something has got to be done because you aren’t doing a pretty girl like yourself any favors.” The reactions to Coco’s dare for Trixie were mixed. Some of the she-demons tried and failed to hide their amused laughs, Pearl’s eyes opened fully, Violet’s grip on her chair tightened, and Trixie seemed to be not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Pearlie girl,” Trixie began, standing up and crossing to her best friend on the opposite side of the circle, “Treat my face like a princess and then fuck it like a slut.” The life-sized Barbie batted her eyelashes animatedly, earning her a laugh from pearl and a glare from Violet. The ice queen’s elevated irritability prompted Katya to reconsider her previous assessments—maybe it was an entire branch up her ass.

When Pearl and Trixie left, there was a void that seemed to swallow Violet whole. The physical space around her remained largely unchanged, but Katya could feel the emptiness that moved to fill the space Pearl left. And for the first time it occurred to her that Violet Chachki might be alone. I guess there might be some truth to the saying, she mused. After all, if you’re at the top, how can anyone else be? When you stripped away the glitter, the makeup, the clothes, you were left with a girl—albeit an arrogant, entitled, straight up cunt—plain and simple.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, huh?” Bianca nudged Katya’s arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“What?” Katya asked. Had she missed something while she was contemplating the character of Violet Chachki?

Bianca chuckled, “You’ve been staring at Chachki since Trixie and Pearl left.” The blonde feigned innocence. “You know how I feel about that 48 Hours show, Zamo. Share with the class before your peanut brain short circuits.”

“What’s her problem?” Katya whispered. “I mean, aside from her general disdain for anything that has a pulse and moves.”

“With Trixie?” Bianca confirmed. Katya nodded. “Oh, this is old news. Her Royal Hardass doesn’t share, but Sleeping Beauty’s got a soft spot for one Trixie Mattel.”

The dots aligned in Katya’s head once again. “Violet’s the pumpkin carriage!” She whisper-shouted.

“Bitch, that was not English,” Bianca snarked, “You been hanging around with Jose Cuervo?”

Katya rolled her eyes at her friend’s question, “I have ninety-nine problems, and substance abuse won’t be one of them if I have anything to say about it.” She turned back to the circle just in time to see the neck of the bottle stop on Bianca, who didn’t even flinch. Katya was secretly proud; her friend had bigger balls than most of the ‘macho men’ at the party—this was going to be interesting. Since Trixie had gone upstairs to get her face redone, Detox decided that she would be the brave volunteer to issue the next truth or dare.

“Bianca, truth or dare?” Detox asked smugly. Katya couldn’t guess which one would be worse. Unsurprisingly, Bianca chose dare. “I dare you to ask Max for his number.” There was, again, a chorus of oohs, and it was Bianca’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Really, bitch?” Bianca asked. She stood up and righted her denim shorts before striding over to the meatheads playing beer pong with a clear purpose and her head held high.

Because Bianca could run with the boys, no one batted an eye—unless she wanted them to. She hoisted herself up onto the pool table in front of Max and held out an upturned palm. They were too far away to make out their conversation, and Katya was a terrible lip reader at best, but she could picture how the exchange would go down:

“Gimme ya’ numbah, beefstick,” She imitated Bianca in her head. The 1920s gangster voice was a bold choice, but she wasn’t going to mock it just yet.

“D’uhh…okay,” Fake Max droned.

The blonde chuckled to herself as the real Max stuck a fist in the pockets of his jeans and fished around. Finally, he produced what looked like a wadded up gum wrapper and snagged a pen from his pal, presumably jotting down his number. Bianca hastily took the offering and sashayed back to the group of girls. She dropped the wrapper in Detox’s lap before taking her seat by Katya.

While the hens squawked over her success, Bianca leaned over to Katya and whispered, “Never let a bitch see you sweat.” Katya had so many questions, but she wouldn’t be able to ask them until later. It was Bianca’s turn to spin the bottle, and Adore, unsurprisingly, chose truth when landed on.

“Adore, which girl on the squad is the skunkiest?” Bianca waggled her thick, black brows. Because she was the mascot and didn’t change in the locker room, she genuinely had no idea how rank the girls smelled after practice or a game. Sue her; she was curious. What Bianca also didn’t know was that the question had a definitive answer, and that answer would do damage far beyond her intent to poke a little harmless and innocent fun at one of the girls.

Even completely sloshed, Adore recognized the gravity of the question. “Fuck! If I drink any more, I’m gonna be sick,” Adore groaned. Her teammates looked at her with pity in their eyes.

“Yeah but it’s not like anyone’s ever died from drinking too much!” Laganja came to her rescue, topping off her cup, “What’s one more?” Adore could only offer her a weak smile.

“Uh, I think I’m just gonna spin the thing now…For everyone’s sake,” Adore informed the group. The bottle landed on Gia, and she picked dare.

The turns only seemed to bleed together as time went on. After Gia drank from the toilet, Roxy refused to reveal her weight. Laganja told her dad she was eloping in Vegas, and when she spun the bottle it landed on Violet. Because ladies don’t kiss and tell, the brunette tossed one back instead of revealing the number of sexual partners she’s had. Alyssa confessed that she was afraid she would never achieve her dream of owning her own dance studio. Courtney shared that she’d never been in love, and Willam exposed her entire browser history, telling Katya a lot more than she wanted to know about the girl. For obvious reasons, Joslyn refused to eat a raw egg. Detox followed by removing Adore’s socks with her teeth. Katya played it safe and suggested that Bianca would be a bad date because she’s insulting people all the time before daring Gia to reveal any childhood nickname she had. Things didn’t start going downhill until the bottle landed on Violet a second time.

“Violet,” Gia cooed, “Truth or dare?”.

“Truth,” Violet answered with an unreadable expression.

Gia thought for a moment before asking the first truly problematic question of the night, “Who in this room do you like the least?”

Ruh-roh, Katya winced.

Violet didn’t waste a moment before answering, “Willam.” There was a collective gasp across the room. Willam, on her part, didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest. Then again, you could never really read Willam Belli.

Pearl and Trixie returned, arm in arm, before Violet could spin the bottle. Katya’s jaw—along with all the other girls’—dropped. Trixie looked gorgeous. Pearl reclaimed her seat next to Violet, much to the cheerleader’s delight, but brought Trixie with her. At the group’s insistence, Trixie was allowed to take the turn that she missed, and Detox was dared to call a random number in her phone and deliver the worst pickup line she could think of. Katya was glad for the change in the room’s atmosphere after Violet’s confession until Detox took her turn. After the call, Detox dared Violet to spend the next hour trapped in a bathroom with another girl from the circle chosen at random. Anyone who didn’t know Detox might think she was trying to create a seven minutes in heaven type deal, but even Katya could pick up on her intent to stir up trouble. She pitied the poor soul who ended up stuck in there.

Of course that poor soul ended up being her, and she wasn’t about to pussy out in front of the most popular girls in school. Peer pressure was a bitch. Judge, jury, and executioner had all decided it was her time, and she accepted that; she just wished her death march had a better soundtrack. Katya would be cooped up in one of the Honards’ bathrooms with a less than pleasant—soon to be considerably more less than pleasant—Violet Chachki. She was going to punch Detox in her stupid mouth.

Katya entered the bathroom the same way she’d rip off a band-aid: quickly and without much thought for the immediate consequences. Violet, who was perched on the bathroom counter, had been engrossed in her phone when the door swung open to reveal the one girl that she just couldn’t seem to get away from. Unsurprisingly, the cheerleader wasn’t thrilled.

“Really, bitch?” Violet griped, giving Katya a once over. It wasn’t like the situation was ideal for either of them.

Katya put her hands on her hips, “You know what you can suck? My whole dick.” She unenthusiastically plunked herself down against the wall opposite of the door. “We’ve got two options, Chachki, we can either suck it up and spend the next hour in here in silence, or we can French a little.” Violet was aghast at her words. If Katya were a proper woman, she might have been able to hold in the cackling fit prompted by the girl’s scandalized reaction. Violet wasn’t impressed with her wheezing, either. Katya finally calmed down and attempted to explain herself, “Sorry, I could have been more clear, but your reaction was priceless.” She wiped at her eyes. “Thanks. I needed that. Detox said she was “‘feeling generous,’”  and if we so choose, we can suck face and then get the hell out of Dodge.” Violet sneered, and Katya wondered if it was with anger or disgust; she didn’t know which one was better.

“As fucking if,” Violet scoffed, clearly feeling as though Detox’s so-called coup de grâce was more of a personal attack.

“Well, I don’t see anyone lining up to get the kiss of the spider woman, either,” Katya observed. “I told you that you weren’t going to like it.” The cheerleader exhaled sharply, and she was surprised not to see steam come out of her flared nostrils.

Violet pursed her lips, “Just shut up and stay on your side of the room.” With that, Violet returned her attention to her phone, but Katya didn’t fail to notice that her expression didn’t soften. If Katya weren’t trapped in the room with her, she’d probably find Violet’s situation hilarious.

Katya had made the mistake of leaving her jacket—and consequentially, her phone—on the coat rack in the hall. Call her old fashioned, but it was a force of habit. Besides, she didn’t need her phone because Bianca was supposed to be there to pull her out of trouble if it arose. But are we really surprised to find ourselves here? Katya asked herself. No. Not at all. At least she found herself entertaining. Hoping to bring forth inspiration, she laid back on the floor, let her gaze unfocus, and tried to lose herself in the plain ceiling. Katya didn’t know how long she’d been drifting for when Violet’s voice shattered the silence.

“Fuck!” Violet cursed, and the sound of hard plastic hitting the floor made Katya’s whole body go rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut. I am not going to be equipped to handle this, Katya bristled. Maybe if I just keep my eyes closed, I can fall asleep. It seemed like a feasible plan until she heard the first sniffle. Of course I find out she has feelings when I’m stuck in a room with her, the blonde facepalmed inwardly. Why today, of all days, to be railed in the ass by life? Her left eye opened first, searching for any signs of danger before being followed by her right eye.

“I knew you didn’t like me Chachki, but I didn’t think you found me this repulsive,” Katya spoke. “Quite frankly, it’s offensive.”

“Fuck you,” Violet spat, but the usual venom in her voice was gone. Katya propped herself back up against the wall to get a better look at the girl on the counter. Her attention was unwanted, and Violet turned towards the door with a huff.

Clearly comedic relief wasn’t the answer. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Katya tried again. No response. The girl’s side profile was growing red and blotchy, and Katya had sent her mom enough photos of her crying to know that Violet was trying and failing to stifle an emotional response. Go figure. “I won’t tell anyone if you cry, you know?” She said softly. “Bottling it up is just gonna make you feel shittier than you do now.”

“Do you think I’m a goddamn idiot?” Violet barked. She wiped furiously at her eyes before whirling around in an attempt to intimidate the blonde. “Better make your fifteen minutes last.”

Katya was genuinely taken aback. Does this bitch really think I’m in on this? She shook her head incredulously. Her airhead friends would literally eat me alive, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t given her any reason to think that I’m faker than Malibu Barbie. If I were made of plastic, why in the hell would I keep my hands this small? “Are we really back on this bullshit, Violet?” Katya snapped. “I’m sorry you think that the universe revolves around you. I hate to burst your bubble, but I have better things to do than conspire against you with your teammates over scones. Get over yourself, Princess.” In her head, Katya blew the smoke from the pistols in her hands. Call me perestroika, Mother, for I am reforming problematic practices, she hooted.

“Whatever,” Violet grumbled. Katya, on the other hand, wasn’t willing to let this go; some conversation was better than nothing.

“How’s the back?” The blonde inquired and was pleasantly surprised when Violet outright snorted at the shift in conversation. Katya took her in as she threw her head back in laughter. There was something about this Violet—the unguarded and natural Violet—that captivated her. Violet’s eyes crinkled, and she clasped a hand over her mouth in a flimsy attempt to stifle the noises she was making. It was frustratingly endearing.

Violet cleared her throat before answering, “Fucked. I’m considering outlawing acrylics on the squad. That shit’s not even practical for a cheerleader, and it’s hurting like a bitch to corset.”

“You’re wearing a corset?” Katya gasped. For the first time that night, she took all of Violet in. She wore a nude illusion dress with a loose black lattice pattern. It covered just a little more than her ass and was cinched at the waist with a rocker belt, squeezing her in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. How in the world do you hide a corset under that? Katya wondered. In addition to the dress, she donned thigh high, slick black boots and a thick, black leather choker that looked more like a collar. Hot damn, Katya could n e v e r, and she knew it. She finally composed herself, “First of all, you’re literally a cheerleader with a body to die for. Second of all, why wear something that hurts you?”

The cheerleader didn’t even seem phased by the inquiries, almost like she’d dealt with them hundreds of times before, “Pain is beauty, and I’m the prettiest.” Katya couldn’t argue there. Violet was beautiful, but she still thought her ideology was questionable.

“So what actually happened at the pep rally? We all saw you fall, but I’ll believe it was your fault when the garden is full of ducks holding pastry in their hands. You’re too much of a hardass.”

Violet raised her eyebrows, as if daring Katya to say it again, “I will let that slide only because it’s technically a compliment. And you’d be correct; I am a professional, unlike others. You’d do well to take note: one of my biggest pet peeves is when people don’t take the things I love as seriously as I do. I accept nothing less than perfection.”

“That must be lonely,” Katya couldn’t stop the words from spilling from her mouth. “You know, having such high standards? Does anyone ever make the cut?” Opening her mouth was clearly a mistake because Violet seemed to shut down all at once.

“What do you know about how I feel?” Violet fired back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Keep digging yourself deeper, why don’t ya? Katya shook her head. She needed to tread carefully. It was a miracle that she had even been having a civil conversation with Violet in the first place, and she didn’t want to ruin the progress they had made. “I know that you work harder than anyone else on that squad, and nobody gives you credit or appreciates you for it,” Katya began. “I know that people are fast to discredit your talent because of how young you are. I know that you’re waiting for the day those bitches stop hoping that you’ll screw up or get hurt, the day you can finally stop looking over your shoulder, the day that you no longer have to prove yourself. I know that you’re tired of fighting tooth and nail for the respect that you’ll probably never earn, and I know it’s fucking hard for you to pretend that your peers aren’t harboring resentment towards you. I know that at night you try to wash it all away because you’re still holding out hope that it will all be worth it in the end. Cheer and theatre aren’t that different. It was obvious in the gym, and it’s obvious now.” Katya took a deep breath. Maybe she’d been thinking a little more about Violet that afternoon than she’d like to admit. She hadn’t meant to go off on a tangent like that, but she certainly didn’t regret what she said. Based on Violet’s reaction, however, maybe she should have. The brunette’s hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Katya tried to backtrack, “Violet I—”

Katya was cut off by the bathroom door swinging open. Pearl, who stood oblivious on the other side, immediately noticed the state of her friend. “Vi?” Pearl approached her hesitantly. Violet’s gaze didn’t move from the floor. “Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.” She moved to lift Violet’s chin up, but Violet recoiled from her touch.

“Don’t touch me!” Violet shouted, her voice almost frantic. Katya’s eyes darted from one girl to the other. Pearl, who was visibly shocked by her reaction, looked hurt, which was very uncharacteristic for the mellow girl. Katya, herself, had never seen anything but characteristic nonchalance reflected on Pearl’s face, and the change made her uneasy.

Pearl took a reluctant step forward and spoke in a whisper, “Violet, did something happen? You know you can tell me anything.”

“Is that the truth, Pearl?” The brunette questioned. “Because clearly I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

Pearl shook her head in frustration. “Cut the crap, Vi,” She demanded, “You’re literally my best friend, and—”

“Bullshit!” Violet interrupted. “I call motherfucking bullshit!” Both girls were standing now with less than a foot between them, the situation escalating by the second, and Katya was stuck in the middle of it. She tried to push her back further into the solid wall behind her, but there was nowhere for her to go. Fuck me! Katya grimaced. Why is Toxic so damn appropriate right now?

“What the hell, Violet?” Pearl shouted back. “God, you’re fucking impossible.”

“Fuck you, Pearl!” Violet pushed Pearl, and the blonde hit the wall with a dull thud. “Fuck you! You and I are done! You hear me? Done! Save your goddamn lies for that pathetic dress up doll. I never want to see you again.” With a huff, Violet stormed out of the bathroom, leaving an uncomfortable Katya and a drained Pearl alone. What the fuck just happened? Katya tried and failed to process the encounter.

She was caught off guard when Pearl finally acknowledged her presence. “Forecast predicts drinking to forget,” Pearl deadpanned, nodding her head towards the door Violet had just stormed through. “Want in?” Katya shook her head furiously. Getting piss drunk with those two would be like making smalltalk with a Molotov cocktail. She’d pass. She’d pass hard. Pearl seemed to understand. “It’s flazéda or whatever,” The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “Just do me a solid and remind me to fuck with Willam’s weed on Monday.”

Katya didn’t know what “‘flazéda’” meant, or the why and how of Pearl tampering with Willam’s weed, but the questions weren’t enough to persuade her to stick around the party longer. When Pearl left, Katya made a run for the Honards’ front door. She grabbed her jacket before taking off down the street. The blonde didn’t stop until she could no longer hear the music pulsing from the house. Her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text from ‘Bianca del Realest’:

Bitch, where are you?

What the fuck happened in there?

Earth to Yekaterina?

Katya sighed and pocketed the phone again. She’d call her when she got home. That would buy her some more time to put the experience into words…and to decide just how much information she should share.

The drive home from the Honards’ was quiet—too quiet. Music normally made being in the car enjoyable, but there was something about the night that didn’t allow Björk to keep her out of her own head. It didn’t feel real, and that terrified the shit out of her. Life was monotonous, life was mundane, life was one of those stupid time loop movies where you had to learn from your mistakes over time and find out what was important in the stupid haystack of chaos. Violet Chachki and her ex best friend potentially ex best friend were not supposed to have the Chernobyl of all relationship meltdowns in Alaska Honard’s guest bathroom right in front of her. Katya didn’t know who opened this tragic can of worms, but when she found them, she was going to slap a bitch silly.

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Loverboy (Jimercury Oneshot)

Summary: Jim goes to Heaven to find the man that's been tormenting his mind for almost a week. (The description is really bad so please just read it it's better than it sounds.)

A/N: This was sponsored by Loverboy by Adam Lambert which I recommend listening to and also to my sheer lack of impulse control. I hope you're all well and that you have a good rest of your day. Get some sleep if you need it, drink some water if you can and treat yourself because you deserve it. This is not optional. Let me know what you thought because my muse likes feedback, leave a like or perhaps reblog if you feel like it and maybe check out my other semi-decent works?? OK, enjoy my darlings.

Warning(s): alcohol, swearing, implied sexual content (OK why did I write it like that since when am I that posh)

Word Count: 2.2k+

Inspiration: Effervescent by @immistermercury on AO3, Loverboy by Adam Lambert, Mercury And Me by Jim Hutton

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty

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Jim had thought Heaven would be a bit more exciting on a Friday night, if he was being as brutally honest as usual. It wasn’t somewhere he frequented much, preferring the atmospheres of the smaller clubs further south of London. For someone who wasn’t typically one to approach people first, large clubs were somewhat intimidating. He wasn’t the type of guy to buy men drinks out of the blue, to put himself in others’ personal bubbles with a smile that could do him all sorts of favours later on in the night. No, Jim would much rather people-watch with his pint of lager that never left his line of vision, something you’d expect from a patron of a coffee shop, not of a gay nightclub. Jim had adopted the philosophy that if anyone noticed and fancied the look of him, then they would go to him first. Although it was that kind of attitude that left you with a certain sense of disappointment and loneliness while sitting in the back of a taxi at four in the morning, only to take you to an even more disappointing and lonely flat and an even more disappointing and lonely bed.

This time, Jim was hellbent on not feeling anything of the sort tonight, and while that was largely down to amount of alcohol he’d drunk merely one hour into his evening, it did give him a certain air of confidence that made him almost unrecognisable. They don’t call it ‘liquid luck’ for nothing, Jim supposed as he made his way to the bar.

Heaven had a particular vibe about it that Jim found near enough impossible to pin down. It was an unspoken rite of passage, for you sure as hell didn’t get men looking to experiment down there, men who were just on the wrong side of naivety, men who weren’t gay but just in case, you never know. Men like that would get eaten alive in Heaven; ones with all sorts of bad intentions tended to lurk around the larger clubs. It wasn’t sinister, per se, but it was a bit much if you weren’t quite too sure what you were doing.

Heaven was almost always full to the brim with people, but despite that it was weirdly intimate, providing you found the right person. Jim had yet to do so but he had to give himself credit, he’d only been there for a couple of minutes. He ordered his drink, trying his best to not let the shock show on his face when he found out just how expensive drinks were at Heaven, and surveyed the scene before him. It wasn’t overly exciting, everyone in his line of vision seemed to already have someone, or in some cases multiple someones. For now, he decided to let himself be absorbed into the unique atmosphere, the deafening yet grounding music that vibrated through his very core, the fluorescent lights that illuminated what needed to be highlighted and created shadows over what needed to be hidden.

Jim couldn’t help but let his eyes drift over the sea of men surrounding him. He supposed he should have felt trapped or perhaps claustrophobic in his little corner, everywhere he looked he could see people who had yet to clock his presence. But it was just that, the fact that no one had even bothered to clock that he was there, that no one had even thrown him a glance, that made him feel somewhat isolated, something he never felt in his regular clubs. He was fighting every instinct in himself to finish his drink and go, to just forget that this evening had started in such a way, because he forced himself to remember why he was there in the first place.

That man. That one man who had somehow managed to stumble into his café on a bleak Sunday morning, still drunk from the night before and clearly not having slept yet. Why else do people go to artisan cafés at six in the morning, ask for the most lucrative drink Jim had ever heard of and then for the barista’s number because he looked simply ravishing, darling. As you can probably imagine, early morning shifts weren’t exactly busy, especially not on a Sunday of all days, and the man was just so eager to talk and inadvertently reveal half of his life story, Jim couldn’t find it in himself to let the rather interesting conversation die. He’d even offered to make him a cure for the inevitable hangover he was going to get after he eventually went to sleep. They’d talked about everything and nothing for a good two hours, until the lethargic customers looking for their pre-work coffees trickled in and heavily mumbled their never-changing orders. It was at that point when Jim had chased the man out with a tea towel and a message of get some damn sleep, for God’s sake, and once he was back behind the counter the stranger poked his head round the door to say the name’s Freddie, by the way, Freddie Mercury, before leaving for good with the sound of the bell above the door being the only thing left of his presence. Well, that, the innumerable empty cups he’d left on his table by the window and the smile etched onto Jim’s face that stayed there for the rest of the day.

At one point, Freddie had let slip that he’d been drinking with some friends at Heaven for most of the night, and that it was somewhere he went most evenings. So, Jim had taken a risk and gone on that Friday night, hoping to see his mystery man again.

He scanned over the club again and started to lose hope, even if Freddie was there, it was so dark he might struggle to see him. And even if he did, what would he do? Would Freddie even want to see him? Did he even remember him? He was rather drunk at the time, oh God what if he saw him and he didn’t even recognise his face-

“Jim!”

He snapped his head to the right so fast; he almost pulled a muscle in his neck. There he was, positively glowing under the lights that would have washed anyone else out, clad in the tightest leather, under the arm of another man. Jim’s stomach dropped about ten feet, but he refused to let that spoil his evening. Besides, he didn’t think he was capable of raining on Freddie’s oh-so-sunny parade. He forced a smile onto his face, “Freddie, hi!”

Freddie tugged on the arm of his companion like an incessant child, “Paul, this is the guy I told you about! He owns the café down the road!” His voice was so full of excitement, Jim could tell he was a little bit tipsy already, but the joy was genuine.

“I don’t own it, I just work there,” he justified, squirming a bit under intensive stare of Freddie’s friend. He knew that look, the one of suspicion, the one of I don’t know who you are, but I can’t trust you yet. Jim couldn’t find it in himself to blame him for that. He may have been trying to find reasons to hate Paul, but he just put it down to the jealousy that he knew he should be trying to rein in.

Freddie was oblivious to this, or at least was pretending to be for the sake of keeping the peace, “Oh shush, darling, you seemed pretty in charge when I was there.”

“That was only because I was the only one working at the time,” he said, feeling his smile become a bit more real and suddenly remembering why he was there in the first place. He was chasing this feeling of pure elation, this feeling of finally living that he hadn’t yet felt in the two months he’d been living in London.

“Enough of this boring stuff,” Freddie ducked out of Paul’s grasp and grabbed Jim’s free hand, “I want to dance,” his eyes sparkled, and Jim was sure it wasn’t from the lights overhead. Freddie quickly turned to Paul and said, “A glass of rosé for me, darling,” before tapping his arm and leading Jim through the crowd, leaving Paul with his lips parted in disbelief and in a state strongly reminiscent of a dead fish.

Further into the club, they had found a small space to dance. Freddie had his arms looped loosely around Jim’s neck and Jim had his hands tentatively on Freddie’s waist and their foreheads were practically touching because there wasn’t much space to do anything else. He couldn’t help but wonder if Freddie had chosen such a space on purpose, and he had no idea if he was just being hopeful or if he was actually onto something. He wasn’t all too sure where Freddie was going with this. He’d assumed that him and Paul were a thing, but they hadn’t actually done anything to suggest such a thing. He didn’t want to be seen as the guy who wrecks a relationship because he’s too selfish to think about the consequences of his actions. He knew he shouldn’t care about a man he’d met less than a week ago but when you’re practically alone in a city like London, you can’t help but cling to the first person who gives you even the slightest bit of attention.

This kind of attention was different, though. Jim wasn’t blind to the way Freddie looked at him, he knew exactly what that look meant and it sent shivers down his spine every time they locked eyes. Freddie leaned in closer, if that was even possible, and whispered in his ear, “You’re thinking too much, darling. You need to let yourself go.” Freddie pulled back and looked at Jim through his eyelashes, who in turn got goose bumps just from his tone of voice alone. It was honey, smooth and sweet, slipping into his mind and giving him a feeling that he didn’t think any drink or drug could top. He could feel himself slipping into a certain state of mind that felt softer than silk and tasted sweeter than sugar. He could lose himself in just the image of Freddie dancing like that, of Freddie holding him like that, and he was so damn grateful that he could have this all to himself, even if was only for one night.

Jim tried to come back to his senses, even though he wanted nothing more than to surrender them all to the man before him, “What do you want from me, Freddie? You already came here with someone.”

Freddie chuckled lightly, letting his eyes drift away before coming back to the bubble he’d created with Jim and had no intention of popping just yet, “Paul? No, he’s dull, darling. You on the other hand,” he paused for effect, looking Jim up and down before coming back to his ear, “You’re positively edible.”

Jim embraced the closeness for a second, not allowing himself to indulge in it for a moment longer or he would have been gone with no return, “I’m serious. I don’t want to be a game to you, I want to be more than that.”

Freddie breathed deeply, taking in Jim’s aura, “Paul thinks it’s more serious than it is, I don’t really care about him so neither should you. But this? I could get used to this, if you’ll let me,” he looked up at him again, the essence of faux innocence. Jim knew what he was asking, he could read between the lines, and gave him his answer by closing the gap between them.

The kiss was soft, it was slow, they were savouring every second for what it was worth. They had nowhere else to be, and if they did, they didn’t let it cross their minds for neither of them had ever experienced anything like this and they weren’t sure if they ever would again. It wasn’t perfect by any means, you can’t expect too much from a kiss in the middle of a nightclub, but it was so addictive and so different and so new and so exciting and just so human. It was that feeling that you never knew you wanted but once you tasted it for the first time, you just craved more and more and more.

When Jim finally pulled away, just wanting to see in Freddie’s eyes if he wanted it as much as he did, he found himself gasping slightly from the intensity of the look. It wasn’t like the one he’d gotten from Paul earlier, it was one so full of desire and passion, it was everything he’d been hoping for and more. He couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss, just a short one that promised so much more, before doing as Freddie had said only moments ago; he lost himself in the deafening music and the blinding lights and Freddie’s eyes.

And when he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and Freddie in his arms, he was so glad that Freddie had stumbled into his life at six o’clock on a Sunday morning.

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, PAYTON! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE TOWER with the faceclaim of RODRIGO SANTORO. What poetry could I write about Feivel? He is, at his core, a worldly man, has seen much, knows plenty, and still finds himself entrapped in a world which he feels he cannot possibly belong to. There is such a human quality to him in the way he shifts and turns just to keep himself alive; your concept with the mirror was especially fascinating -- he has a charm to him, but is it a charm that he’ll be able to stomach later on down the line? I also vastly appreciate your willingness to step out of the box and explore a character you’re not as familiar with; I can really see your affection for him here, and I’m excited to see what you bring to us with him!

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

NAME: Payton or Paypay

PRONOUNS: She/her/hers

AGE: 27

TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: My timezone is GMT-7. I anticipate being active on the dash (as in posting starters/writing responses) typically between 4-6 days a week, with 4 being more typical. Writing is a pretty big component of my self-care and allows me a creative outlet to use some of my energy, so I will be on frequently. 

ANYTHING ELSE?: I know this is a second application picked from a small handful of skeletons that still remained, but I wouldn’t be applying for another skeleton if I wasn’t just as excited and dedicated to what I could bring to the group with this skeleton as I was with my first application. At first I was pretty bummed and told myself if I couldn’t get back into a very excited state I would just kind of let it be, but the more I worked on this application the more excited I got about the skeleton and the character I was building out from it.

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: The Tower

NAME: Feivel Asturias

FACECLAIM: Rodrigo Santoro, Chris Hemsworth,  Joel Kinnaman

AGE: 42

DETAILS: What about this character interested you? Who are they to you? This can be as long or short as you want it to be, in whatever format you prefer.

I suggested this to you during our conversation during which you gave me feedback for my previous application, but The Tower’s skeleton is a big old jump away from characters I’m used to playing. Out of the skeleton’s that were left, I found The Tower’s to be quite compelling and likely the most challenging role to play for me. But I like challenges! Challenging is fun. I think in terms of my own development as a writer, playing a character that feels like such a departure from what I’m used to is a great way to stretch my creative muscles and really push myself to think deeper into the choices I’m making for my character.

Another component I like about The Tower is their history as an explorer. I would like to see story-telling be a strong component of their characterization because they have so many lived experiences. Given the setting, it’s likely he would be one of the most if not the most well-travelled roles in the group. His lived experiences would take him to the ends of the earth that his contemporaries only dreamed of, and I imagine he would be all too eager to recount the stories of his youth (only slightly editorialized… okay, fine, with some pretty significant embellishments). I imagine his life has led him to present as rough around the edges, as a survival tactic, as a leadership strategy, and as a mode of self-preservation… but when he gets to talking, when someone really gets him in his lane of story-telling he takes on an air of slight warmth and overwhelming nostalgia. He also absolutely adores young people, which is discussed a little further elsewhere in the application (one of the plot points if I’m not mistaken).

I am also very interested in toying around with his current role as an antiquarian--because who doesn’t want to make up a whole bunch of mythical items and historical artifacts and lore? I feel like not only would I be able to use him as a method to contribute to the general story line, but it would be a great way to explore some world building within the parameters you’ve set for the group.

I also think that the skeleton suggests that The Tower would be willing to take some risks, which would be interesting to play out. The fact that they were willing to play dumb in front of the king until it was clear playing dumb meant certain death, they take a chance: they try to bargain for their life, and it works. As an unofficial advisor, they view their stakes as being slightly less high than someone officially in the post, so they take risks: they combine a healthy amount of tact with speaking their mind. They see a monarch unhappy in her marriage and desperate for release, so they take a risk: they stand a little too close, brush the back of their hand against hers as they pass in the hallway, and find themselves in a full blown affair. I think taking risks would be an inevitable character trait of The Tower, who likely feels lonely for adventure and too big for their body now that they find themselves land-locked.

The actual card of The Tower also relates strongly to the history I imagine for Feivel and what I would assume could be a turbulent future given his affair with the queen and potential shifting alignments. I see “Tower upright: Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening” relating to his arrival in Tyrholm and the killing of his men and consequential end to his way of life/loss of freedom. “Tower reversed: Personal transformation, fear of change, averting disaster” makes me think of his need to navigate the court and avoid what could be certain disaster if the affair with the queen became known to the wrong people as well as his perceived need to tiptoe around The Sun.

Something of interest to me regarding the typical depiction of this card is the image of the card itself. One website’s information on the card stated: “A stone tower is struck with lighting and lit in flames, two people jump from the tower presumably to their deaths. An image of chaos and destruction is painted.This lightning/subsequent fire enters in through the top of the tower and knocks off the crown. The people jumping accept that they do not know what awaits them when they fall - but it is certainly better than burning in the rubble of the tower.” I find this really compelling because I think that if Feivel was present for the event Mini wrote for Kithri’s para sample (and Mini makes that headcanon) or if Feivel sees or perceives Septimus mistreats his wife or perceives King Septimus as cruel in other ways it would be relatively easy to radicalize Feivel. Feivel knows he’s coming in hot on his expiration date, and even if he isn’t on the brink of death and he’s just feeling a little run down, I think he would really struggle to accept a land-locked existence where he’s essentially prisoner in Castle Tyrholm, and might, as the card depicts, run headlong into certain doom rather than accept the alternative if he found a cause worth self-destructing for.

BACKGROUND:

You are born on high seas, the ocean so ingrained in your identity that you could scarcely tell the difference between the waves of a storm battering your ship and the untamed beating of your own heart. Your childhood is composed of tangled memories of stern looks, rope burn, aching muscles, calluses, stolen goods, and the sound of splintering wood. The smell of gunpowder from the cannons found a permanent home in your nostrils and you lived with a constant sensation of breathlessness between the battles and seascapes that colored your days.  Your early years are like the ocean itself; ever-moving, unforgiving, and constantly threatening to pull you under in its cruelty if you so much as dare to be still for even a moment.

As you enter your teenage years, the treatment you receive only becomes harsher. You are no longer only responsible for chores around the deck, but you are brought into roles of responsibility where a misstep can be the difference between life and death of a crew member. You participate in your first ambush, and it terrifies you how easy it is to drive a blade into another body and how hard it feels to draw it back out. But letting that deter you is not an option. The stakes are high, and the sting of every slap and lashing’s meaning is two-fold. Corporal punishment is a daily reality of your life, the best way a motley crew of pirates knows how to instill discipline. And beyond discipline, you know you’re the next in line for leadership and as a leader you must be unyielding. Your father is preparing you, and the way you see it the crack of his leather strap against your back is the only way he knows how to say he loves you.

You are seventeen when you inherit your father’s ship, his death a sudden and brutal blight that stains a corner of your mind you avoid with vermillion and a mix of pain and resentment. Your mother died long before, when you were no older than six or seven. The closest thing you have to any memory of her face is the memory of her running her fingers through your hair to soothe you to sleep. every time the sea breeze rustles through your hair it evokes her memory. You keep it long and unkempt for that reason alone, though if anyone asks it’s a matter of convenience. It is unbecoming of a captain to display such vulnerabilities as sentiment and weakness—or at least that’s what your father before you conditions you to believe. You quickly realize you see leadership fundamentally differently than your father. Where he asserted authority by means of dominance and violence, your approach values brotherhood.

You find yourself establishing a Brotherhood of Asturias. You name your clan in honor of your ship. Later in your life, you will name yourself in honor of your clan—not as a badge of honor, but as a reminder of your shame. No one would accuse your clan of reformation. To anyone outside of your fold, you’re just as ruthless as your father. You’d still burn the world to the ground for the promise of glory when the flames died down. But within your kinship, you develop a sort of honor code. Your commandments are as such: honor those who honor you, betray no other lest your life be on the line, help the needy if it helps yourself, to kill an innocent is the most mortal of sins, and you shall not advance yourself at the harm of others. Your reputation does shift, but only slightly. Rather than pillagers and barbarians, you are seen as a ruthless treasure hunter.  

For the next fifteen years, your reputation precedes you. You travel to the ends of the earth in search of the relics of the old gods and to reclaim the wonders of the world. It isn’t easy work, but the payoff makes it worth it. You accumulate wealth with nowhere to spend it, but the sense of power of merely possessing the rarities and finery you have is enough. And you love the camaraderie and catharsis. By your mid-thirties, you are grizzled and scarred. Your body aches from the strain of your journeys, but your mind is somehow light under the sheer weight of the stories you have to tell. Your life is spent fast, but if anybody asks it is spent well.

Finally, aware of your limitations and content with your life of misdeeds, you select your successor and one final mission. You view it as a training exercise to cement your decision: both to lay down your arms once and for all and that you’ve chosen the best and brightest to take your place. You set sail to the remote island of Calamity in search of an item of lore, so simple that the common man would pass it over without a second glance: the Mirror of Ouroboros. The mirror is a small, handheld curio of impossible value. The reflector itself is a small, obsidian mirror that upon first consideration seems harmless if not impractical. However, upon looking in the mirror its magical virtue presents itself by revealing three truths about the user, each of them as destructive as the next if the user is without fortitude of mind. You recover the mirror with little consequence along the way, and you are reassured that your decision making was sound. You are resolved to your fate and wary from travel, you drift off to sleep easily after your final ransacking.

You are dragged from your bed by a pair of hands as cold and harsh as death itself. The mere touch is enough to pull the breath from your lungs. You don’t recognize her at first, but The Sun will haunt your nightmares for the next several years, and in a much more present way haunt your days as well. You are thrown before the king, your crew not far behind. But it is toward you who the king directs his ire. He demands the mirror, and you bite back at his entitlement. You tell him you don’t have any such item, and he knows you are lying. You tell him the mirror is no creation of his god, the Undying One, and as a result it shouldn’t be any interest of his. It’s the wrong answer. You realize it’s the wrong answer when you hear a squelch from behind you, and the sound of a body drop to the floor. The groaning is easily recognizable as your second in command, slaughtered as result of your folly before they even had their real chance to carry on your legacy. The world mutes, but you’ve seen this scene before. There is nothing but a loud ringing in your ears, but you know The Sun is working down the line of your men behind you.

Your hands shake as you pull the mirror from your breast pocket, and you consider looking into it. Surely the madness is a better fate to resign yourself to than to live with your indirect responsibility for your brotherhood’s death. For another moment, you consider allowing the king to look into it, to exact your revenge without needing to so much as lift a finger. Instead, you slide the mirror across the floor, still safely contained in its cloth shroud. You hear your voice warning the king of the mirror’s power, that with patience and research it could be the key to turning his kingdom into an empire. You tell him that more relics exist across the span of the globe, some of them here on the continent of Markholm. You’re bargaining for your life, despite the fact that according to your very own honor code you no longer deserve it.

For some reason, the king lets you stay. You know this is more a strategic move on Septimus’ part than an act of mercy. You are hardly a free man. You yourself know that not all prisons have bars. Yours doesn’t, but you’re locked in a cage all the same. Your wild heart rails against your fate at first, but your tired body cannot keep up. You slowly resign yourself to your circumstances. You spend your day lamenting and licking wounds for months, giving Septimus advice through gritted teeth and refusing to recognize kindness from anyone around you. You are like a cornered dog, but you damn well know better than to bite the hand that feeds.

Slowly, the dagger in your heart loosens and you move through the stages of mourning your freedom, your crew, and your former life.  This doesn’t mean that your life in Tyrholm is easy, but you start to recognize areas of comfort. The Empress shows you a modicum of kindness, and you cling to it. The way you see it, the pair of you mean little more to each other than a pair of warm bodies at first, but it’s a momentary distraction the both of you welcome. The way your rough, calloused hands catch on the silk she seems herself to be spun from reminds you of your place, it stops you from being careless enough to leave fingerprints. You stop yourself from getting emotionally attached--no one ever accuses you of being a wise man, but you know better than to shit where you eat. The Moon gravitates in the perimeter of your attention, and you wonder what she wants from you, though she never seems to ask for much. The Sun also exists within your gravitational pull, though you wish she wouldn’t. You have nothing but enmity for her, an emotion you know is futile but that you can’t seem to put away.

The one thing you take seriously is your role as advisor. Septimus strikes you as mad and simple, a ruler grounded in dualism and individualism. Your belief in brotherhood and the collective clashes with Septimus’ harsh reign, but you can stomach it given your years spent under your father’s thumb. You yourself are never treated with particular cruelness after you are added as a member of the court. A part of you cares how everything shakes out, even though your body tells you it might give out before you see things through. Another part of you only cares about slowly convincing Septimus to give you a longer leash to try to convince him to dispatch you for one last adventure or two.

PLOT IDEAS:

You’ve Got Your Reputation and Your Good Intent (The Emperor): Feivel was not exactly a willing addition to the court. With death as the only alternative, joining up with Septimus looked like a good choice, but in the skeleton it doesn’t suggest that The Tower ever develops any sense of loyalty or admiration for King Septimus. In fact, in the connection section with Judgement, it suggests that The Tower finds the world they find themselves stuck within to be “horrible”. Given I want to incorporate captaining a ship as part of Feivel’s past, he would chalk up the state of the world to mediocre leadership. Further, The Tower is smack in the middle of the triangle depicting attitudes and loyalties. He doesn’t have much skin in the game, but he kind of gives a shit. I have to imagine that given their travels, The Tower would have a stronger concept than Septimus of how the other side lives, how people perceive things, of even surface level diplomacy, who seems to make decrees and decisions at a whim. Knowing that The Emperor is the next in line for the throne, I imagine The Tower would want to see the heir equipped with more of a holistic outlook rather than a self-interested, dualistic approach. While it sounds like Septimus is the one who likes to be regaled with stories of adventure and daring, I imagine Feivel might try to impart some sort of wisdom about different perspectives, universal truths, and interest in the plight of fellow man. The Emperor has probably never experienced life outside of the castle walls, certainly never outside of Tyrholm where many valuable lessons for a future ruler wait to be learned. But Feivel struggles with putting his meaning into words, he isn’t some educated member of the court, he’s a rogue in nice clothing. There is no underlying agenda aside from expanding the young heir’s worldview--but the danger of saying the wrong thing, of the slightest slip up in the tone of voice being read as a criticism of King Septimus makes the line between good intent and treason a tricky one to walk.

Suffer the Fools (The Moon): Feivel enjoys young people tremendously. Youth tends to couple with ambition and vigor. This is also part of why he even wants to bother trying to impress some of his lived experiences on The Emperor. Based on the connection written in The Moon’s bio, it seems like The Moon would be eager to listen to those very same stories. The Tower is depicted as a cache of information regarding other civilizations, the old gods, history, antiquities, magic, and tales of their own youth. I think in talking to The Moon about these stories and being listened to, a friendship would be forged and from that friendship, trust. Feivel understands thieves' code, he can pick up the dynamic in most any room he walks into, he knows history, he recognizes value when he sees it, navigation and survival in the wild is a given… but all of this was learned through oral tradition. Books were of little value on a ship, education wasn’t valued in his lifestyle. In his previous station, Feivel couldn’t have cared less, but now it’s developed into a soft spot. What does it say of a king if their antiquarian and unofficial advisor is illiterate? I think that if Feivel developed trust with The Moon, he would be willing to share this vulnerability asking them to write correspondence for him in a pinch and potentially how to read and write. I think this vulnerability might help lead The Moon to ask the questions they have about magic as discussed in The Moon’s connections.

All’s Fair in Love and War (The Empress): I am interested in exploring the connection listed in The Empress’ bio depicting the affair between The Empress and The Tower. It is not really mentioned in The Tower’s bio or in the main body of The Empress’ bio. I am interested in exploring Feivel’s motivations in this affair. Is there genuine affection that Feivel feels for The Empress, or does he see her as a pretty treasure of the king’s that makes for an interesting conquest? If there is genuine affection, how does he deal with the jealousy or perceived mistreatment of The Empress as a wife? Additionally, there could be a number of interesting consequences for the affair to deal with as far as jealousy, not being able to bit his tongue regarding Septimus’ attitude about his wife, or even the secret of the affair becoming more widespread. I think the affair could also complicate the way that some members of the court and group see Feivel. They could potentially misread the affair, whether it’s a matter of the convenience of the two just acting as warm bodies for one another or if it develops into a full blown emotional affair, as Feivel tries to step into a role of power or exploitation. It’s also some pretty damaging ammunition against him if he crosses the wrong person.

Mirror of Ouroborus (The Sun/The High Priestess): One of the things I would look forward to adding to Feivel’s character and the group as a whole is sort of building out the world with some mystical items. In this case, I think it could be fun to toy around with the item that landed Feivel on King Septimus’ agenda in the first place. This is a plot I would build out with either of the two more experienced necromancers. The item I have in mind for this plot point in particular would be called the Mirror of Ouroborus, an ancient, magical artifact the most of the world either doesn’t believe exists or has already forgotten. The mirror itself is a small, obsidian mirror that upon first consideration seems harmless if not impractical. However, upon looking in the mirror things begin to complicate. When looking in the mirror, it shows its user three truths. The first truth is easy to swallow: the reflection morphs into the user at the epitome of their potential, in their greatest state of glory. The second, the reflection morphs into what it is that stands in the way of those accomplishments, whether its an internal or external force. And third, it shows the essence of the user as they really are. Each of these reflections manifest as a simultaneous, momentary vision, but the mirror itself is dangerous. The lore surrounding the mirror depicts the third reflection driving everyone bold enough to stare into the mirror mad, incapable of swallowing the truth about themselves and the inherent flaws of humanity. However, who better to look into the mirror than someone numbed to even the most base emotion? Though it’s unlikely Septimus would put something as valuable as a master necromancer on the line for anything less than a guarantee. I would imagine in this plot, Feivel and either The Sun or the High Priestess would be tasked with unraveling the mystery of the Ouroborus Mirror for its eventual use.  

If You Stand For Nothing, What Will You Fall For (General): Check out the triangle of alignment and who is smack in the middle but The Tower? I think this presents a few interesting concepts. There are so many different components of the skeleton that could suggest many different ways for his allegiance to be pushed and pulled. If he has a personal rather than transactional relationship with The Empress, her alignment of general tolerance of King Septimus might pull him toward anxiously waiting out the king. Then again, it might have the opposite effect if Feivel ends up having very spiteful feelings about the Empress being stuck in the marriage. I envision most of the connections listed on the bio slowly dragging Feivel’s alignment toward the bottom left of the chart. I want to explore Feivel’s character with a moral alignment of true neutral as well, which I think would create a lot of interesting dynamics given Feivel seems to be starting from a place of general neutrality as well. I would be very interested in seeing what, if anything, could radicalize Feivel given his starting point.

Through Terra Incognita: Feivel is not exactly a member of the court by choice, but rather quick wit and Septimus’ whim. I would argue that Feivel sees himself more as a prisoner of the court than actually free. He was brought to the court by force, and he’s essentially kept there out of fear of the Sun. Sure, there are perks. He probably is all about that food, a nice bed, fancy clothes, and a comfortable place to rest his tired bones… but just because he wanted a rest doesn’t mean he isn’t restless. It might be interesting to have Feivel be dispatched by Septimus to retrieve some sort of treasure or antiquity with another character or maybe even two. This item could potentially be central to the plot if it interests you to invest in the plot in that way. I think this could be an interesting way to interact with Judgement (religious relic?), or potentially The Hermit or Strength. However, I’d be happy to make this plot work with whoever might be interested even if they aren’t listed there. Fievel is probably incredibly eager to go on any sort of adventure and get out of the city, so he would jump at the chance to go on such a quest, even if he clashed with his travel companion every step of the way.

Brave, Intrepid, and Then Some: If you do not recognize the lyrics used as titles (here and the plot point above), the song “The Trail We Blaze” from Dreamwork’s masterpiece The Road to El Dorado is big inspiration vibes for Feivel and his adventurous side. He knows he is never going to be the marauder he was before his years in Tyrholm, but there’s a spark in him that can’t quite go out. I think something to feed into this, and his general world knowledge, would be to develop a sort of “wonders of the world” for Markholm. Something I think that might be interesting to do is to pick a few characters and try to create artifacts, locations, etc. that are sort of drawn from or inspired by these characters. Perhaps they would not be significant to the plot, but I think it could be a fun concept to build out Feivel’s experiences.

CHARACTER DEATH: I think given some of the pies he’s stuck/will stick his finger in there’s a pretty real chance he might piss off the wrong people eventually (Septimus, Reynaud, Naenia given his fear of her) whether that be by him making a false move or his affair moving from a bit of an open secret to a full blown scandal. Also, he’s lived a rugged life, which I’m sure has taken a toll. Given the parameters you’ve set up to support players if there’s a character death and the context of this character I’m comfortable with it.

WRITING SAMPLE

Another restless night, and Feivel found himself roaming the halls of Castle Tyrholm with the company of his faithful hound, Gunport, at his side. It was the sound of the wind whistling outside his sleeping chamber’s window that kept a good night’s sleep at bay, the sound reminding him of those wind whipped days out at sea that built him into the man he was now.  He lobbed a ball down the corridor lazily and got some mild entertainment watching the hairy beast chase after it with gusto before bounding back to its master’s side and pushing the slobbery toy into his hand. But even the momentary distraction couldn’t hold back the feelings that he was now more a ruin than a man.

His father had died valiantly in battle, though the skirmish itself could have been avoided by better planning. Even so, his father had died with his reputation intact, ruthless to the end. Feivel himself had quickly built his own mythos around himself, even if it was not as cruel as his father’s. He knew the Clan Asturias had gained a measure of renown, enough for King Septimus to know of their accomplishments, and as the captain of the ship Feivel himself was the figurehead of the legend. On nights like this, he would retract his steps and try to pinpoint the exact moment he had gotten too far ahead of himself or too comfortable. He knew what his father would say, that his downfall was the direct result of trusting anyone but himself. Some nights, Feivel felt that conclusion was correct. On other nights, he surmised that his fate was inevitable. For years, he had wondered how legends were brought to their knees. Now he knew he was little more himself than some exotic game King Septimus had cornered and would eventually mount on his wall like the other trophy animals in Castle Tyrholm’s gun room.

The candlelight flickered from further down the hall, and both Feivel and Gunport stood aware, their two sets of wild eyes pointing in the direction of the disturbance. He wondered vaguely if someone else was being kept awake by the ghosts of their past, or if perhaps it might have been the growing sense of restlessness that had been building behind closed doors and in whispered conversations throughout the castle. He had only been a member of the court for a handful of months, but he knew what the early stages of insurrection looked like. This was something he altogether aimed to avoid, more than convinced that the king would be able to put an end to any treason before it truly started.

It surprised him to see the queen passing through the hall, and for a moment he felt his presence was inappropriate. Life in Tyrholm had come with a healthy dose of culture shock, to say the least. He had cleaned up well, this was true, but he knew he was far from noble. His manners had provided ample fodder to mock him in his first months in the court, and the stiff clothing he had been given felt like it choked him. Perhaps it was his station in his office that made him feel most like the butt of a cruel joke, the books that lined the shelves and his pot of ink and paper virtually useless. He had wondered for a while how long King Septimus would humor him after he realized his master of antiquities couldn’t so much as write his own name. Luckily enough, he had proven himself entertaining enough to listen to that when he was called upon it was almost exclusively in person. Whenever the need to write was unavoidable, it was no trouble to intimidate a servant or page into writing it for him. It took little more than a menacing glare and the simple lie that he preferred to dictate his response rather than be saddled with the chore of writing his message himself.

As The Empress approached, Feivel bowed. It was practiced to look natural, as if he’d been bowing to monarchy all his life rather than copying the other members of court over the past few months. He also took grain pains to make the motion as fluid as possible despite the strain it caused his lower back. “Your Majesty,” he greeted, “I apologize for disturbing you this evening.” He tossed the ball away again, figuring someone of her stature had little interest in being near such a creature. The dog took off again after the ball, springing clumsily down the long hall.

“It’s quite alright,” Queen Calliope responded in a muted voice. She lifted a slim, graceful hand that caught the moonlight as she gestured before them. “Perhaps you would walk with me?”

Before Feivel had much opportunity to respond, Gunport had asserted himself into the situation. The dog pressed the ball into the palm of the queen’s hand, wet nose, slobber, and all. It was the habit of a well trained dog to return whatever it was fetching directly into the hand of it’s master, but Gunport was friendly and apparently wanted to extend the invitation to play to the queen herself. Embarrassed by what he assumed was poor manners, Feivel became somewhat nervous and hoped to escape the interaction without insulting Queen Calliope. He turned his attention from her hand to her face to respond, but his answer was delayed slightly as he observed her unassuming beauty; the smoothness of her skin, her piercing dark eyes, the way her silk-like dark hair framed her face and swept against her shoulders, and the delicate shape and hue of her lips. He was a man who recognized finery when he saw it, and what held more value than the wife of a king?

“Another night,” he mumbled, staring at the toe of his boot rather than in her eye. His voice was gruff, a bit terse as a force of habit. “When I don’t have the hound with me.”

Accepting his answer, the queen lifted her hand to pass the ball back to Feivel. He extended his hand, accepting it from her, unintentionally brushing his fingers against the back of her hand. The contrast between the two did not escape him, his own hand rough with work next to her unmarred skin. Her skin was smooth and cool compared to the warmth and calluses of his own hand. He let the touch linger for a moment before his eyes met her own. She didn’t seem disturbed by the touch, which even if unintentional was an insult to her station. Queen Calliope placed the ball in his open hand before bidding him goodnight with a soft, amused smile. “Another time then, Feivel. May the Undying One bring you safely to another day.”

“Another time then,” Feivel repeated, holding the ball up as if it were some secret known only to the pair as he walked backward toward his quarter. He tossed the ball over his shoulder with a roguish grin, his eyes trained on Queen Calliope. Only when she turned his back on him to continue on her way did he turn away from her.

EXTRAS

I want to plot out what the affair looked like, from start to current state, with The Empress’ player, so I’m not taking my writing sample as gospel. It just seemed like the most natural thing to write because I think the connection with another person in Tyrholm he established with The Empress was probably a turning point in his mourning process/ability to accept his current station as basically a glorified prisoner in Castle Tyrholm and to engage more with others.

Inspiration Blog (There are three pages, you gotta click the last little dot with a sort of square to get to the next page)

[axwalker]

III: The masquerade ball

Synopsis: This is an AU where the monarchy in Cordonia doesn’t longer exist and it has been replaced by a republic. It’s set in the final stages of the presidential race with Senator Liam Rhys competing against Fidelya’s Governor Godfrey Karlington. To assure his son’s victory, Constantine makes an arrangement behind his back for him to marry the rich ambassador’s daughter: Alexis O’Brien. Due to her father’s threats she has no other option that seduce Liam and make him fall in love with her. But what does she really feel?

In this episode: Drake can’t stop thinking about Elena while Liam is struggling with his father’s demands. The ambassador and Constantine explain their plan to Alexis.

To catch up here’s the Masterlist

Warnings: I love drama and chaos so this will probably get dark. In this episode, there is mention of child neglect.

Please note that this is my first series and English is not my first language. I really appreciate ALL comments and feedback.  

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry except for  Alexis O’Briens and her horrible father, George O’Brien

 @pug-bitch @texaskitten30

Thanks to @mskaneko for the beautiful mood board

Drake woke up thinking about Elena, replaying the night before over and over again; refusing to accept the fact that he might never see her again. At the end of the night, before Drake left her at the restaurant, they had shared a last kiss, as passionate as the ones on the beach. He thought that maybe this time, his luck would change and he would be able to find her. Normally, Drake wouldn’t be optimistic. He always waiting for the worse to happen, but with her, just for this once, he was allowing himself to hope.

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It was the fourth night on a row that Liam Rhys woke up at 3 o’clock, unable to sleep any further. His father had been bothering him about his lack of fiancé since the beginning of the campaign. Liam knew he would have to choose someone soon or Constantine threats to pick a woman for him would become real. Since the day his father offered him Leo’s spot as a Presidential candidate, Liam was aware that having an arraigned marriage was a real possibility, but right now, it felt too tangible. He started wondering if he’ll be able to go through it at all. Could he fall in love someday? Or would he be like his father? Married to a woman he could barely tolerate. Liam loved his country, he wanted to sacrifice everything to follow his father’s steps, fulfill his dreams, but he couldn’t help but wonder if a loveless life was really the only solution. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he was startled by Drake entering the room where they both had their morning meeting every day. His best friend seemed content and was even grinning, something rather unusual for him.

“Hi, man!” Drake stood at the door “Fuck! You look like shit”

Liam chuckled “He! Thanks, Drake, as subtle as usual. I couldn’t sleep last night, I had lunch with father yesterday and it was rather … tense”

Drake grimaced at the mention of Constantine, he knew nothing good could come from a meeting with his “adoptive” father.

“Apparently, according to the polls, I need to become a family man as soon as possible, if I want to win the race”

“I don’t want to alarm you, my future president, but there is no way even you and your legendary charm would be able to pull a whole family in a few months.”

Liam sighed “I need to find a woman and get engaged or, according to my father, preferably married before the election day.”

“And he doesn’t think the people will see right through that?” Drake asked, arching his eyebrows.

“He thinks that if we choose the correct woman, it could look like we fell in love fast and it could raise my chances in the polls, is just…” Liam was standing next to the window, his gaze lost in the horizon before him.

“What Liam?”

“I don’t know if I can pull this trough. You know what it was to grow in a house where the parents hated each other. The five of us suffered enough because of it”

It was Drake’s turn to look out the window pensively. “Well, at least for the first part of my life, Savvy and I actually had a real family. It wasn’t the same for you guys, but I get it.” He turned to face Liam, “you don’t want your kids to grow up the way we did”

“Exactly.” Liam looked straight at Drake and added, “I’m aware that you and Liv took the worst part of it, Drake”

Drake cleared his throat trying to avoid the painful subject of his childhood at the Rhys’s mansion.

“Look, Liam, you have to face your father. Tell him that he doesn’t get to live through you, that you can be president and lead your own life”

“I told him I refuse to have an arraigned marriage, but the problem is that he’s right. I will never be able to win this race a single man. And you know how badly I want to change this country. All the progress I want to make, the laws I want to change…and for that to happen, I need to be president.” He sat on his desk “But, enough about that for now. What’s on the agenda for today?”

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Alexis O’Brien was lost in her thoughts, remembering the day her father had separated her from one of the few people she had ever loved. One day, he had just shipped her to that horrible reformatory in France pompously called “boarding school”. She was only 6 years old at the time, but she could still remember those first years: the solitude, the fear, the tears, and the constant punishments trying to make her the perfect lady that would marry well someday.

And that day had almost arrived.

“Liam Rhys …” She had googled him. He was an extremely handsome man with piercing blue eyes and a dashing smile. In all the photos he seemed like the perfect boyfriend, always wearing the perfect suit with expensive matching shoes. Alexis could bet anything that he was very polite and charming in all circumstances… never letting anyone see what he was really thinking. She had dated guys like that all her life. It was actually the only kind of guy her father allowed her to date until she could free herself at age 18. He pressured her to go out with wealthy boys whose parents had something to give him in exchange. Sadly, Alexis considered herself lucky because he was not trying to sell her to the fathers instead of the sons. Something she knew George O’Brien wasn’t above of. She just couldn’t believe she was trapped again, but the threat he held over her was impossible to ignore. The sound of her father and Constantine Rhys entering the office brought her back to reality.

“Dear Father, Constantine” the sarcasm in her voice was palpable “Here I am, what is the plan exactly?”

George O’Brien was about to respond when Constantine raised his hand. “Please Ambassador, let me explain it to your daughter.” George nodded.

“It is very simple Alexis. As you already know, you’re here to marry my son before the elections so he can be president and we can all win something.” Alexis snorted, but Constantine ignored her and continued.

“The problem is that this generation is filled with men full of romantic ideas that make them weak. Unfortunately for us, both my sons belong to that category. I know that if I imposed you to Liam as his wife, he’d be unable to either go with it, or look the part. The press would spot the lie in five minutes, and he would lose anyway. That’s why we need you to act like a normal suitor. He is aware that tonight there will be some appropriate women for him to choose a fiancé. You are a very beautiful woman, and I have no doubt in my mind that if it is you who seduce Liam, he’ll be charmed. In other words, he’ll feel that he fell in love with you, which will make your couple credible enough for him to win the elections.”

Alexis was furious before such a flagrant display of cynicism “Are you telling me that it doesn’t bother you to lie to your own son like that?”

It was George’s time to speak or rather to yell “That’s enough Alexis! You know very well what’s on stake here. Either you play your part of the bargain or you know who will pay the consequences”

Alexis paled at the threat, but tried to hide her fear answering with all the loath and contempt she was capable in one single sentence: “Don’t worry father, I’ll do it.”

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The ballroom that held the Masquerade was exquisitely decorated, Liam was impressed by the talents of Maxwell Beaumont. It was true that Max didn’t take most things seriously, but he was one hell of a party planner.

Liam started to mingle among the different guests with, as Drake loved to call it, his “candidate’s smile” all over his face. Although Liam was passionate about his country and wanted to make a real difference in it, he hated these events as much as his best friend did. It was always the same people, the same conversations, the same food.

He went to the terrace to have five minutes to himself when he saw an exquisite woman already standing there. She was tall and was wearing a beautiful white dress that suited her perfectly. Her long brown hair was on one side, so he could see her elegant neck and the curve of her back. She must have sensed his presence because she turned around to face him. Her mask was on her face, but he could still see that she had amazing dark eyes, bright and with streaks of gold on them. He looked at her mesmerized for a second.

“Sorry, miss.” Liam cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe how dense he was being, he was more than used to talk to beautiful women, but something about her made him incredibly nervous. She smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Rhys. I was just enjoying the view. Cordonia's old castle looks beautiful from here."

"It does indeed, I see that you know who I am, maybe you can tell me your name as well," He said with a charming smile.

She grinned at him "I could but it might be more interesting to maintain the mystery a little longer"

"He, ok. What about this, you ask me one question, and if I guess correctly you tell me your name and you take off your mask"

"Haha!" She laughed with the most musical laugh he had ever heard "Aren't we a little ambitious?” She looked pensive for a second “Ok, one question, and if I like the answer, the name, and the mask go "

"Deal"

“What made you run as a Presidential candidate? And I demand a real answer Mr. Rhys and not the BS you politicians feed to the press.” She grinned with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“Wow, you really don’t go around the bushes.” Liam paused to think before answering, wanting to tell her the truth “At first, it was my father’s dream. He was the grandson of the last Cordonian King, then he was the third elected president. He wanted us, Leo or me, to continue his legacy. He groomed us for it. But it wasn’t until I was a Senator here in Cordonia City that I started to see the importance of politics. I realized that instead of being another spoiled ‘son of’ I could be the person that would help Cordonia to evolve. That I could actually change the future of our nation. And I have a lot of plans for it.”

She could see in his eyes that he was being honest, there was something incredibly inspiring about him.

Liam smiled at her. “So…do I deserve to know you?”

She smiled back, taking off her mask at the same time. “My name is Alexis O’Brien”

Drake was standing next to the bar still thinking about the night before when he saw Liam talking to a woman. She was dressed in white and wearing a mask, but he could guess that she was beautiful. Liam seemed completely smitten by her. That thought made him happy. Liam deserved to find someone he’ll really love and who will love him in return, Drake knew how scared Liam was at the thought of living in a loveless marriage. He watched Liam say something to the woman’s ear, making her laugh. She definitely seemed as smitten as he was. They were both completely captivated by each other. Drake was about to turn around and give them some privacy when the woman grinned, taking off her mask.

Drake couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Elena.

[yfere]

Bowlgate and Beyond! The Empire Kids Learn How To People.

So who wants an opinion on Bowlgate and Yussa’s Tower, forever after the fact??????? Ahahahha!!!! For once, though, I actually did a bit of research into what other people have been saying about these things, so I at least have some idea of the general discussion, though it’s admittedly not the most comprehensive idea. #INeverSayAnythingNew #PleaseForgiveMe #I’mJustHavingAGoodTime. Anyway, this is a two-part series of mine.

Thesis: Caleb and Beau were understandably terrible at communicating, and communicating with each other specifically at Bowlgate. Yet they are progressively getting much better (I would say pretty damn good!) at handling people in general and each other, even as they continue to have arguments.

Part 1: Wherein Caleb Learns Most People Aren’t Mind Readers

Caleb was just not cut out for cooperative group work—at least, not at the start of the story. At the Labenda Swamp, Nott gives him a magic bowl, and he discovers this is a super dangerous artifact that can be used to commune with Tiamat, an Evil Calamity God. The one person who is personally interested in this item is someone he met only hours before, with some sob story about being part of a Tiamat Cult (alarms ringing!) and wanting to find artifacts like this to “destroy them.” Caleb is suspicious, he’s cautious—justifiably so, in his opinion. He feels it’s anyone’s responsibility as someone who doesn’t want to be Evil to make absolutely, unquestionably sure that by helping this person they are not aiding and abetting the promotion of Tiamat’s influence in the world. He concludes that the only way to be sure this person is telling the truth about their intentions is to use Jester’s Zone of Truth to confirm. (If only he still had Suggestion, his favorite spell for these situations!) If they can get Caliana to camp with them, perhaps he can discuss it all with the group privately…..except, Caliana is dead-set on leaving right that second, and won’t stay to camp. So Caleb is left with two choices:

1) Say nothing, and keep the bowl. Nott would never tell the others if he asked her not to, if he really thought keeping it was best. Problem is, then they would have to figure out how to destroy the item themselves, and they’d be endangering the group since the cult is out looking for it. That’s not fair, Caleb’s already been reprimanded for withholding items before, and besides, Caliana could really be telling the truth, could really be the person best suited for destroying these items. Option #1 just won’t work, which in his mind leaves him with

2) Deal with the trust problem right then and there.

Knowing that Caliana is gifted with magic and that he himself is delicate, Caleb thinks, I believe, well, she could turn on us and attack me and leave with the bowl once she sees it and if she doesn’t want to submit to questioning. He decides the only reasonable thing to do is to put a barrier between her and the bowl without her knowing that’s exactly what he’s doing. It’s the same kind of reasoning that eventually leads to Caleb’s Wall of Fire in Darktow. ((funny that hoarding other people’s stuff is his defining trait. saving the world one stolen item at a time, lmao))

So, with the group safely(ish) walling Caliana from the bowl, he reveals it! And the group loudly tells Caliana about it! And he says, basically, I don’t trust you with a powerful item, and you should let us hold you hostage for an evening and let Jester cast magic on you so that your trustworthiness can be confirmed.

To which the party goes, what the fuck, Caleb?!

What the fuck are you saying, without consulting anyone on the matter?! That’s not teamwork???!!?!? Who do you think you are????!?!?!!!

Proper procedure for Caleb would have been to say, one, I don’t want to keep this bowl. This is what the bowl is, this is what worries me about it, this is what worries me about Caliana, and this is what I think we should do—what do you think? Explain reasoning, ask for feedback, collaborate. But Caleb skips through all these steps and goes straight to executing his preferred mode of action, without properly checking in with anyone. He only even begins to explain what the fuck the bowl is (other than “powerful”—vague much?) after Beau takes it away from him and everyone’s hackles are already raised over his behavior. 

So of course it feels manipulative, of course it’s pressuring the group—those are the literal effects of his actions, but I think it’s important to distinguish between Caleb actually trying and intending to manipulate people (Fjord in the Diver’s Grave), and Caleb putting unfair pressure on people as an unintended consequence to an unfortunate assumption of his: that because a course of action seems right to him, that it is self evident—everyone must be thinking the same thing as him, it’s super obvious this is Right, why would anyone ever disagree? “Why would you not want to wait twelve hours to see if this woman’s intentions are true or not?!” he asks, in complete bewilderment. Caleb is genuinely incredulous and surprised when the group starts arguing with him, when Jester suggests that maybe they should let Caliana talk to Tiamat if she wants, when Beau and Molly suggest that it’s really none of their business to interfere with Caliana whether her intentions are true or not—if she does bad shit, why should they take the responsibility to stop her? Will it really affect them? Caleb doesn’t consider at the time that his actions might be controlling and pushed back against because he assumes that the group will all absolutely be in his corner in this thing and that he is acting on their collective interests and desires. What he neglects to do is find out whether he actually knows what their interests and desires are, if they actually agree with him. (((There’s also, of course, Caleb doing Typical Gifted Kid Bullshit #150, thinking “oh, but I’ve thought of everything, this has to be the right and only solution to the problem!” No, you haven’t thought of everything Caleb, STFU. Molly and Yasha both bring up solutions to Caleb’s dilemma that Caleb didn’t think of himself—I can cast Friends, Molly said. I can use my sword and try to break it, Yasha said. These are both things Caleb might have come to know if he cared to, say, consult the group before going off at Caliana with his Plan.)))

But why is Caleb so confused at the negative reaction, so thrown for a loop by disagreement? This fascinates me. At this point, you see, Caleb is……not used to being around people with different opinions than him. I mean, conjecturing from his backstory of Mega Propaganda Brainwashing and Conformity, not to mention the Only Child business—it’s quite likely he’s never (or not in a long time) in fact had to deal with a serious difference in opinion before—certainly not one among peers, where authority and power structures aren’t at play. He also definitely hasn’t spent much time around people from different walks of life, who would have different values and life experiences and worldviews from him. He’s always been fairly isolated, 24/7 around people who were trained to think and make decisions in exactly the same way he did, with everyone else being Wrong and an Enemy. Where there was a premium on Obedience—child to parent, student to teacher, patient to doctor. More recently he’s been around Nott, who at this point in the story is also just agreeing with everything he says and not really challenging that assumption. Arguing over gloves and scrolls and bowls—that’s probably new stuff to him. He’s finding out in an ugly way that he can’t project what others are thinking, people don’t think exactly the same way he does, and he doesn’t know how to collaborate in decision making the way he obviously needs to to survive in the group. He doesn’t know how to handle disagreement in any other way than caving in and Following Orders and Keeping the Peace, and he definitely doesn’t know how to handle a disagreement when caving in is no longer a useful strategy, when the cost of caving is, to him, unacceptable.

“You’re a shitty communicator” is actually some of the most useful feedback he could have possibly gotten out of the situation. What is most important for Caleb to learn to do at this point is learn to explain his thinking in detail before he acts in ways that will affect the others, to stop assuming everyone will think in exactly the same way he does, to present his opinion as an opinion rather than The Undisputable Obvious Truth. He needs to learn how to advocate for a course of action and genuinely brainstorm on issues (he has good ideas, but he doesn’t know everything!) instead of either Winning the Argument or Obeying Others. What’s great to see is that Caleb is getting better at all of these things. Compare what he’s doing with the bowl with his planning strategies post-Felderwin. At this point, Caleb has become fairly comfortable in his preferred role as an advisor and source of information. He doesn’t plainly defer to the group without contributing, and he’s careful now about prefacing his opinions with his concerns and reasoning, with saying “I think this because X,” and then asking for others’ opinions. To paraphrase the moorbounder suggestion, he says, “My concern is, and this is not a dealbreaker, but what if we learn Yeza is on the chopping block, and we don’t have enough time to get to him?” which does three things: 1) presents his opinion as an opinion, 2) explains the reason why he thinks it’s a good idea to get the moorbounders and he’s concerned about the “working for the Krynn” idea without assuming everyone already thought of this and his conclusions are obvious, and 3) asks a question that solicits the opinions of the rest of the group. Nice growth, Caleb! When you do this people can actually work together and address your concerns! Caduceus floats letting the city government know what they want ahead of time, they discuss whether the government would have access to teleportation or sending spells, they talk about how much danger Yeza is probably in and how they can determine whether the government can be relied on to follow through on a favor, how they could safely frame their favor. They agree at the very least to prepare to book it on the moorbounders as Plan B—if the job is too long or Yeza gets in trouble or the favor can’t be relied on, they leave. That’s collaboration at work!

Even when the disagreements are personal, Caleb does a much better job at explaining himself and debriefing, though he isn’t perfect. Post-Yussa’s tower, he does a fairly good job explaining why he refused to do what Beau asked of him in the moment. He also does a fairly good job explaining why he wasn’t exactly giddy to go there, though he doesn’t directly address Beau’s line of questioning (she wants to know what about Yussa makes Caleb think he’s tied to Trent specifically—since she thinks that would justify his fear). Instead, he tries to justify his Absolute Caution With Powerful Mages Philosophy by painting a frightening, gory picture that offends Beau and pokes at her own insecurities—does he not believe in her friendship? And Caleb tries to acknowledge that he as Beau are talking at cross purposes and explain himself more but eventually becomes so frustrated and overwhelmed with the misunderstanding that he begins snapping and storms off to scream at a tree. More useful things to do would have been to ask for a break, or to ask Beau to explain what exactly she was feeling so he could address what was bothering her about what he said instead of trying to brute force get his point across through arguing and fright. The point is though, that he’s trying, when he wasn’t before. He’s getting better, their relationship is getting better, and honestly it’s pretty wonderful to watch.

Next is Part 2: Wherein Beau Learns Assumptions are for Chumps

[the-canary]

Wednesdays - L.T (2/10)

Summary: Only you had the balls to deal with his outrageous order on that day. You just didn’t know how bad it would get. (Barista!Reader/Lance Tucker).

A/N: I am still trying to grasp Lance’s character, so I am sorry that it sucks but thank you for taking the the time to read it. If anyone wants a taglist or to be added, let me know! 

Feedback is always appreciated.

“The old man isn’t serious, right?” Madison asks in disbelief, as she goes from looking at the proposal sitting in her large desk to the man sitting across from her. The blond shrugs, unsure of what to say either.

“He really thinks the kid has turned a new leaf,” George explains, as he simply repeats what the old man --the owner and lead partner in the company-- had told him a day before, “Stan did always have a soft spot for him.”

“I know that, but really after the leaked tape, after the whole pregnancy incident,” Madison could go on with the lists of notorious scandals that their poor P.R department had gone through hell over in the name of Lance Tucker, because as much as his name had been worth once -- it had been dragged to the mud too many times before until they had cut times with him a few years ago.

It didn’t help that the whole gymnastics world was still shaking in the aftermath of several other scandals as well. However, Stan had always managed to see the good in people and was often ahead of the curve in somethings.

“He seems to have turned a new leaf,” George keeps playing devil’s advocate, much to her annoyance, “Steady business in a couple of states, plus no recent troubles with the media or no new baby mama either.”

“Why would he need us then?” Madison can’t help but ask, as George smiles just a bit -- he knows he is close to trapping her if she is that curious.

“To show off his new talent, those kids in his schools,” he explains as Madison nods, “He knows well enough how this type of world works. One good win or one tape that goes viral and everyone is gonna want a piece of that kid and their coach. A sad way to relieve his own 15 minutes of fame.”

“That’s kind of pathetic, no?” she responds as George shrugs once more with a chuckle at how she could change her opinion so quickly.

“Why should it matter to us? We’re getting paid for it,” he states leaning a bit more into his seat, “And your little prodigy could use some real world experience. Why not with grade A douchebag Lance Tucker?”

“I wouldn’t want to let her suffer through all that, but you do have a point.”

“Always do.”

Aside from Mondays, Wednesday slowly becomes your least favorite day of the week after the shift change. Instead of sleeping in like your normally would have done once, you end up walking up near 9am to make you get into work just in time for your shift to starts. It leads into the early evening, where you grab a bite to eat before heading to your evening class on the other side of town. A three hour class, the never ending traffic followed by readings and work prep for your other part time job mean you didn’t go to sleep until around 1am.

It was a difficult sort of thing, but getting your Masters was the goal and it was something you were going to give up, as you hold back a yawn --the lunchtime rush had been slower than usual-- as the clock strikes 12:20pm. It was only your second week talking Serena’s shift but you knew what was coming through that door at any moment.

You hear the door like clockwork as you are working a dirty chai, only to notice bright red blinding your vision as the sunlight hits it in just the right way. Tracksuit douchebag.

“Unsweetened Pineapple Kona Pop Brewed Tea,” you look at Micah with a frown, as she justs shrugs. Both of you knew he might pull the shit he did last week, but there was nothing you could really do about as you went about making the drink. You didn’t know if the man had weird tastes or if he was just trying to prove some type of strange point -- you weren’t his preferred barista.

“Grande Chai with a Shot of Espresso for Meghan,” you yell out as the petite dark-haired college student, a frequent customer, grabbed her drink and headed back to her table, “Grande Unsweetened Pineapple Kona Pop Brewed Tea for Lance.”  

He gets up from his own table, none of his students were in the store today preferring to check out the Jamba Juice down the street, as he grabs the cup and the straw. You try your best to smile, but by the twitch of his perfect eyebrows --like with the Strawberry Banana smoothie last week-- something was wrong with it.

You know what comes next, as he states: “It taste like is had sugar, remake it again.”

“Yes, right away,” you sign out through clench teeth, as he simply smirks because you’re the one that is going to get in trouble is you fight with a customer, especially with an actual manager in the back today.

You remake it once, twice before he seems to be satisfied. He calls out to Micah for her to have a good day and leaves the Starbucks without another word as you proceed to work on another order, though angrier than before.

“Fucking jerkface,” you can’t help but mumble to yourself as Micha laughs.

“Do you even know who that is?” Micha scoffs good-naturedly  at you lack of celebrity knowledge, but unlike her you barely knew how to work the video on Instagram, much less even know what Snapchat was, “The guy you have been giving the stink eye for the past three weeks.”

“Nope,” you pop the the last syllable in the end in annoyance.

“Lance Tucker,” she states with a hand on her hip, as you don’t seem to connect that name with anything of the top of your head,  “Gold and Silver medalist. The god of gymnastics.”

“People who watch the Olympics obviously have too much free time,” you can’t help but remark as you throw the returned tea into the trash can and sigh.  Micha frowns as if you have offended her in some way, but unlike her a celebrity from a few years ago didn’t really grab your interest. She doesn’t say anything else due to a new customer coming in

The sour mood this has put you in doesn’t leave you for the rest of the day, as your shift ends and instead of getting your usual protein box and favorite beverage you go down the street two more blocks and grab a wrap and iced tea from that organic food diner.

The thought of the dinner, then looking at the Jamba Juice that is one the right and the Macchiato further down than that made you pause, as the asshole popped into your head for the second time today.

Why if there were so many healthy options near the area did he fucking decide to go to Starbucks?

How stupid was he?   

It’s 3pm when Lance is able to take a small break just before his after school kids come in for practice. He had been running a fewer hours of sleep today since his renewed proposal between himself and his old agency was being looked though. It wasn’t like Lance himself needed the publicity, but some of his kids --especially one girl in Houston-- was grabbing the attention for the USA team and he was slightly protective of her.

No, not in that Maggie Townsend way from a few years back, which had ended up destroying most of his career, but in an older brother or even father figure sort off especially when he knew Katherine’s mother wasn’t the most easiest of people to deal with.

So, he waited for a call or email back from them all day. They had said by noon and when nothing had transpired, he had been freaking out on his wave to the Starbucks. He was craving sugar, but he knew it wasn’t the best option for now, even on his cheat day.

And while he might not have had the best attitude, Lance was grateful towards that damn annoying barista for giving him some high quality stuff, even when he knew it didn’t have any sugar in it. He was just being an asshole about, but the customer was always, right no?

He was downing the last bit of his tea when his phone rings -- a new email. Lance jumps from his ergonomically correct chair and quickly taps in his passcode. The email is from a Madison Castro.

Mr. Tucker,

We have reviewed your initial proposal and would like to set up a meeting with you in regards to the PR team you would be working with and contract specifications.

Please answer back with your earlier availability possible.  

Thank you, Madison Castro.

Senior Vice-President Lee and Assoc.

Lance can’t help but get up and scream in excitement, promising himself that he needs another drink next Wednesday as the old school hip-hop starts blaring in his small office.

[nikkalia]

Gotta Get It Right: Chapter 13

TITLE: Gotta Get It Right CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 13

SUMMARY: Aleksa lived as an Inhuman at SHIELD's beck and call, but dreams of another life have her questioning everything she’d ever known. Just when she settled into a life of peace and quiet, she's called back to duty. Enter Loki.

PAIRING: Loki/OFC RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Just language

Tumblr masterlist Also on Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409323/chapters/42587357

Feedback is always appreciated (just being an attention whore screaming for comments/reblogs)

Tags: @fadingcoast @christy-winchester @hovianwookie86-captainxev @wolfsmom1 @igotloki @mischievousbellerina @odinsonsobsessed @fandom-and-feminism @mrshiddleston-uk

“Do me a favor,” she blew out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t call me that.”

Loki was taken aback. He feared that the Tesseract had caused more harm than he’d previously thought. The woman watched him closely as he considered his next words.

“As you wish... Aleksa.”

Aleksa relaxed a little, fighting the instinct to wipe away the tears drying on her face. If he’d been watching her for any period of time, it was too late to try and hide what she was going through. His expression was almost sympathetic towards her, and she found it both oddly comforting and slightly unnerving.

“What brings you to the dungeons this time? Come to deliver my execution order personally?”

Loki’s brow furrowed. “Why do the gifted so frequently crave death? Surely there is a great deal of good you can yet do in this world.”

“Doubtful.” She leaned forward. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Hmm.” Loki thought quietly for a moment, then smiled. “I have a proposition for you...”

“No.”

He cocked his head to one side and continued. “Answers for answers. We both want information, and I feel confident that we can come to some sort of arrangement once all queries are resolved. If, at the conclusion of our interview, you still feel as if death is your only option,” his sigh a little more dramatic than it needed to be, “then I shall give you what you seek. I will even see your remains returned to Midgard, should that be your desire.”

“Why don’t we just skip to the end?”

“You may find a life in Asgard more desirable than an eternity in Hel. And really, what have you to lose? Except, perhaps, time spent in the underworld.”

Aleksa narrowed her eyes. Fingertips brushed the force field again, pulling in the energy she needed to focus. The movement didn’t go unnoticed.

“I can help you regain the control you need in order to sever your dependence on outside assistance.” Aleksa looked up at him. “Give me a chance, little one.”

“Little one?” she smirked. “Somehow, I have a feeling I’m older than you.”

Loki’s eyebrow quirked. A wry grin crossed his face. “If you are, my dear, it can’t be by more than a few years. A moment, really.”

Aleksa leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She cursed herself for allowing Loki to pique her curiosity, especially since he was not known to favor compassion over chaos.

What’s normal for the spider is chaos for the fly. She huffed. Thanks, Morticia.

Aleksa wished for her house on the shore and the calm normal it offered. But, her last contact with the cube had created questions she needed answers to, answers that wouldn’t be found on Earth.

Loki was still standing in the same spot when she opened her eyes.

“Are you aware of how fucking creepy it is that you’re just standing there, staring at me?”

“I’ve been called a great many things,” he laughed, “but I believe you are the first to use the term ‘creepy’.”

“First time for everything.”

“Indeed. Do we have a bargain?”

A slow breath came before her answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent!” Loki clapped his hands together. “I will send the guards down later this evening to fetch you. I know we both don’t wish to have yet another discussion here.”

“That is not what I sai...”

“And I’ll arrange for more comfortable accommodations.”

“Loki!”

“No no, no need to thank me. I will see you at dinner.”

He spun on heel and walked up the stairs, vanishing before Aleksa could even get to her feet. A thud signaled the closure of heavy doors above.

“Dammit, Loki.” She muttered, plopping back on the floor. “This is such a bad idea.”

---

Loki looked out over the city, watching the skies shift into the purples of sunset. He did his best to ignore the commotion behind him as the servants moved a small table and chairs into his private library for the impromptu meal. He often took his meals in the library, preferring to avoid the formal space whenever possible. The dining room held too many memories of eating with Odin and Thor bickering over whatever happened to annoy them that day. It was usually Loki.

Eventually, he simply stopped going. Frigga would sometimes decide to join him in this room, engaging him in discussions about his studies or seider training. She would ask him to tell her stories after dessert, always laughing as he spun outrageous tales, complete with animated illusions of the characters.

A soft smile emerged at the memory. Thoughts of the woman who raised him warmed his cold heart and soothed his aching spirit. His first commission upon taking the throne was a statue of Frigga that took its place in her favorite garden, turned toward the horizon so that she would always face the light.

“Majesty?” The deep, scratchy voice of the valet broke Loki’s reverie. “Everything is prepared.”

“And my guest?”

“The Einherjar are on the way with her now.”

Loki nodded. He moved to the table, inspecting the meal. A touch of nervous energy began to creep into his mind, and he dismissed it immediately. This woman was his prisoner, regardless of what she could or couldn’t do, and he was the King of Asgard. Still, it had been some time since he’d actually shared a meal with anyone that interested him. And Aleksa definitely interested him.

The clanking of metal on the stone floor announced the arrival of his guest before the doors ever opened. He imagined what she’d look like in chains, barely clothed and submissive before him. Clicking latches brought him back to reality and Loki turned to the opening doors. The sneer crossing his face stopped.

Aleksa walked at the center on the Einherjar, collared and chained as he had once been. She carried the same strength in her step as when they first met, but her face was pale, circles showing faintly around the darkened eyes that locked onto his. A chill ran down his spine when he looked down and noticed the glowing runes on the collar and shackles at her wrists. His mind raced with possibilities until he realized that the group had stopped moving.

“Welcome, my dear. I’m so glad you decided to join me.”

“Wasn’t really my decision.” Aleksa smirked but her voice hinted at something else.

“You had every opportunity to decline, pet, and yet here you are.”

“Two things,” she growled. “One, bullshit. And two, don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You look every bit the part of a disobedient little pet.”

“Because I’m not a fucking animal.”

“Oh, I think you are.” He moved closer to her, their faces inches apart. “I’ve read your military file, seen the footage.”

“And you think that’s all there is to me?”

“Of course not.” He stepped back and smiled. “That’s why you’re still alive.”

“Yay me.”

“Indeed.” Loki walked to the table, pulling out a chair for her to sit. “My...lady.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s gonna work in my current state.” The last word came as a groan while the runes glowed brighter for a moment.

“Darling, the more you fight the spells cast on those restraints, the stronger the magic becomes.”

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to take them off?”

“This was an exercise in trust, not stupidity, my dear. I would have no guarantee that you won’t attempt yet another escape. Or to kill me.”

“What makes you think I won’t despite the chains?”

Loki studied her for a moment before responding. “You’re in too much pain, I assume, from the suppression runes. Otherwise, you’d already be gone.” Confusion flashed in Aleksa’s eyes. “I offer you a bargain. I will release you from these restraints in exchange for your word not to flee or attack me.”

“And this isn’t an exercise in stupidity,” she scoffed.

“I can hear it in your voice, little one. The pain is growing more severe with each moment that passes. Put away your pride and allow me to give you some relief.”

Aleksa looked at him with suspicious eyes. The pain was becoming unbearable as she fought to regulate the power building up within her. Whatever magic he’d put on the shackles had rendered her completely incapable of cycling energy in and out of her body. She knew there wasn’t much time left before a release came one way or another.

“No tricks, and,” she let out a long slow breath, “I reserve the right to defend myself if necessary.”

“No tricks,” Loki repeated. “As stated before, all I want is dinner and a conversation with you. Whatever occurs afterward is entirely your decision.”

Aleksa’s eyes met his. “Again, bullshit”

He smiled. “Be that as it may, the question remains: do you trust me enough to allow me to assist?”

The runes brightened again and Aleksa audibly groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she sighed before nodding. 

Loki waved his hand slowly, removing the spell layer by layer. Color gradually returned to Aleksa’s face while he nodded to the guards, who removed all but the restraints around her wrists. He dismissed them silently and waited for her to speak.

“They missed one,” she mumbled, her voice still shaky as she lifted her arms.

“Hmm, so they did.”

Aleksa took a defensive stance as he approached, reaching for her hands. She watched closely while the cuffs around her wrists shrank into two thin cuff bracelets in the shape of snakes, the inscribed runes glowing one last time before vanishing into the metal.

“There,” he purred, kissing her hand, his eyes locked with hers. “Much improved, don’t you think?”

“What I think,” she withdrew her hand from his, “is that I’m going to regret this.”

Not as much as I’m going to enjoy it. Loki smiled broadly, gesturing to her chair. Aleksa’s eyes narrowed before finally moving to the seat.

[psyched2b]

All My Heroes - Chapter Two (Steve Rogers x OFC)

Warnings: None

Author’s Note will be at the end of this chapter.

Feedback is appreciated and welcomed!

*Moodboard created by the lovely @shreddedparchment

*gif pulled from GIPHY. Tried finding OP, but link was broken! UGH

“Pardon the lack of…everything,” Cece called over her shoulder to the two men following her into the temporary home. “We’ve only been here,” she paused, trying to remember. She looked to Michael, “Six days?” It came out as more of a question.

Her brother rolled his eyes at her memory. “It’s been twenty-two days,” he corrected, moving to the makeshift counter and pulling out four glasses.

Cece flushed. She may be smart, but when it came to keeping track of time…well, that was one reason to keep her lug-head of a brother around. “Right. I take it back. I’m too lazy to unpack.”

Bucky let out a laugh and nudged her playfully. “Sounds about right.”

Steve dutifully followed the eccentric woman and paused inside the doorway, taking in the space.

Small wasn’t an exaggeration when it came to describing the hut. It was ten foot long and eight foot wide. The walls that were made from clay were painted a bright yellow, reflecting the light that streamed in through the windows on the west wall. There were two cots laid next to each other with well-loved quilts covering them, no pillows. The makeshift counter that held various pots, plates, glasses, and silverware was made from an old wooden door. Next to the counter was a large cooler where Steve assumed perishables were stored. He’d even guess that they use it for food storage to keep predators out of their supply. But what stood out to Steve was that this was obviously just a place for them to eat and sleep. There was no living here.

“You must move around a lot,” Steve commented as Cecelia handed him a glass of water.

He doesn’t miss how her eyes flick to Bucky nervously, unsure how much he may have shared.

“You can trust Steve,” Bucky encouraged, moving to lean you against the wall. He casually crossed his arms and leaned all of his weight to one side, ankles crossed. Cece had to suppress a laugh because she always thought that in another life, James Buchanan Barnes was a model.

Instead, she nodded and turned her attention back to Steve. “I’m not sure how much James told you about my gifts,” she ignored Bucky whining about calling him by his given name, “but staying in one place too long has proven to be…a challenge. People want to control what I have or would prefer to have me kept under lock and key so they could study me. Since I am neither property, prisoner, or test subject, I have to move every few weeks or so.” She nodded her head towards Michael who was pulling out things to make dinner with. “That’s another reason why he follows me around. I’m ‘just a feeble young lady who can’t fight off a squirrel’, so now I have a shadow.” Her voice deepened, mocking how presumably Michael would sound when she mentioned how ‘feeble’ she was. Cece took a drink of water before contenting, rolling her eyes. “Of course, it doesn’t matter that I can incapacitate anyone with just a thought, but that’s not something I can use in my argument apparently.”

Michael grunted from his spot, measuring out some powdery substance into a pan. “Unless they catch you unaware.”

Cece just laughed and shrugged her shoulders, giving Steve a ‘what can you do’ look.

Steve idly wondered if something had happened in her past or if she was just cautious. He made a mental note to ask later.

“Anywho,” Cece continued, setting her glass back on the counter and looked between Bucky and Steve. “I can go more into that later. Why don’t you two knuckleheads tell me what brings you in.”

Steve couldn’t keep the shock off of his face at being called knucklehead. He turned to Bucky to see what his reaction was, but his best friend let out a carefree laugh, not at all offended. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he saw Bucky so relaxed. It had to have been before the war. He was starting to wonder if there was more to this Cecelia than Bucky was aware of. He had to be cautious around her until he could make his own judgments.

He cleared his throat, calling attention to him. “Bucky mentioned that you might be able to help a….friend.” He felt awkward saying it aloud, just realizing that he would have to explain what had happened. How a man was now partially paralyzed because of him.

Bucky noticed the shift in Steve’s mood and gives him a sympathetic look. “I can explain if you would prefer,” he offered, wanting to alleviate some of Steve’s stress.

Steve adamantly shook his head. “No, I can do it. I should do it.” He turned his attention back to the small woman in front of him. “There was a fight and a good friend of mine was caught in the crossfire, leaving him with partial paralysis.” He paused, trying to think of how much he wanted to divulge about Tony and the resources that surely would have been made available for Rhodey


“And you’re wondering if I can fix your friend?” Cece asked intuitively. There was a tangible shift in her mood, more serious now than playful. This was Dr. Thompson. “Do you know what kind of treatment options he may have already been offered?”

Steve was surprised that she didn’t ask about what his injuries were, but answered her. “I don’t know for sure,” he admitted, “I only know that Tony would do his damn best to make sure Rhodey got the best care possible. No amount of funding would be an issue.”

She waved her hand at that. “People who are surgeons and need money to guide them to their next job aren’t my favorite.” Her thoughts flashed to some asshole Doctor in New York who only took patients if they were ‘interesting’ enough, but also had a chance of success. Sure, he was good at what he did, but still….what an ass. “Rhodes is the guy who was injured?” she asked for clarification. “As in, Colonel James Rhodes of the Air Force and best friends with philanthropist Tony Stark?”

She threw her head back and laughed at the look of surprise on the Captain's face, giving him a faux-sympathetic look and patted his shoulder in comfort. “I might live in Africa, but I don’t live under a rock.” She switched back from Doctor Thompson to Cecelia with an ease that caused more surprise. Steve wasn’t able to switch back and forth from Captain America to Steve Rogers like that. He wasn’t even sure he knew who Steve Rogers was anymore. Now wasn’t the time to think about that, though.

“Good to know,” he replied, unsure of what the proper response would be.

“Soup’s up.” Michael shoved a hot bowl into Steve’s chest that he caught with his hands. He chose to ignore the hostility directed at him. He was a stranger after all.

Cece wasn’t having it though and smacked her brother upside the head. “Knock it off,” she scolds. “Quit being a pansy and just admit that you’re secretly fangirling over having your childhood hero under the same roof as you.”

Steve was sure he was just as red as Michael looked.

“Shuddup,” Michael muttered under his breath, turning to get another bowl that he politely handed to Bucky and then gifted his sister with one before gathering up his own.

Cece looked back to Steve with a smug grin and Steve’s heart skipped in his chest. Was he dying? He diverted his gaze from the siblings and poked at the mush in his hands, unsure of what it was.

“It’s ugali,” Cece explained, noticing his aversion to the unfamiliar food. “Usually describe as cornmeal mush. Doesn’t look too good, but tastes great and is quite filling.” She took a bite of the ugali and let out a quiet pleased moan, playing on how good it tasted. Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, but took a bite himself and was surprised that it was actually half decent. Satisfied that he would survive the new experience, she continued.

“As long as you promise that Tony Stark doesn’t blow me away in the literal sense or turn me into some science experiment, I’m willing to help.”

Chapter Three

Author’s Note: Thank you to @mermaidxatxheart for your support with this! It means the world to me to have you on my side.

Anyways, I’m going to take a temporary leave from working on “One Touch” because...well, I just lost my Aunt to a drunk driver yesterday afternoon and the next part of One Touch revolves around explaining what happened in the readers own accident and it’s too hard for me to write that right now. SO please forgive me and be patient. I promise I’m not dropping the story, but it will be a week or so before there’s any continuation on it.

Coming up in the next few days will be some Halloween Stories, so be looking for those.

I also have three drabbles and a hand full of ships that I need to do from my 200 Follower Celebration. I haven’t forgotten, it’s just been a busy week.

Anywho......

Everything Tags: @bettercallsabs @thinkwritexpress-official @mermaidxatxheart @geeksareunique @dont-stop-keep-walking

All My Heroes Tags: @deaniebean

[rpbetter]

I think a master list for long term roleplayers is such a good idea! I think if it delineates the reasons someone would do long term over short term, and makes sure to not prop up one style over another, it could go over well. I just wonder what a roleplayer would have to do to be listed. Rp a muse for over two years? Have a declaration they don't easily lose muse and keep muses for a long time by default? I think that's the hard part, because it would be easy to exclude people if done wrong.

Hey, Anon!

Well, I'll let you in a secret...I might have begun that project this weekend. So, it might (absolutely will be) be happening, and this message certainly made me feel good about it!

It also brings up some incredibly valid points I hadn't thought about, like how one would go about specifically designating RPers as long-term. As you said, it's got a potential problems for exclusion, and the only exclusion intended is simply not being a dedicated, long-term RPer.

I think the only fair way of doing it is to let the muns themselves decide. As it presently stands, the idea is to submit the answers to a form that does ask "RP experience (years and places)." I thought that might help muns field each other better, and now, I think it might be the fairest way of determining what "long-term" means to everyone.

If you feel like someone who has been RPing for two years with the same muse(s) is long-term enough, then it is! If that's not enough to hit your mark of long-term, no hard feelings even happen because you just keep scrolling the list to someone who has been RPing for ten.

I'll be rewording the question to have two parts, thanks to this ask! It'll now read something like, "How long have you been RPing (includes tumblr and other RPCs)? Has this been the same muse/handful of muses (what's your longest time RPing a muse)?"

That way, you're also not running into issues like...well, let's use me as an example. I've been RPing online for over twenty years, but have only been RPing on tumblr for seven. I've had one muse for almost seventeen years, but another one only for that seven years. If I was to answer just with my presence here on tumblr with that muse, that's far shorter than my total time RPing and doesn't include that I'm long-term enough to have had a muse for seventeen years. This way, I could customize my answer and give a fuller one.

I know we all tend to think of tumblr's RPC as rarely taking on new muns these days, but I meet them fairly often. None are new to written, online RP, but they've only just joined this RPC. I certainly don't want anyone to feel like they have to answer "six months" when that isn't entirely an accurate representation of their experience and interest.

The questions are also not overly skewed toward any single type of RP outside of the umbrella of "Dedicated." Meaning long-term, primary hobby/dedicated interest RPers who stick with threads and muses. So, while, yes, a lot of us are also into long replies, it's not excluding those who write less either. It asks your style(s) and gives the options of "sentence, para, multi-para, novella, lengthy novella." You can, obviously, put multiple answers in as to what you prefer to write!

Some additional things it asks for:

links you'd like to include (rules, promo, carrd, docs, bio, other)

types of RP concentrated on (angst, slice-of-life, canon-involved, AUs, romance and shipping, friendships, horror, etc.)

your URL(s), obviously!

blog type (single-muse, multi-muse)

muse/primary muses' names (if this is a multimuse blog with all muses in one place, if not, please designate which goes with which URL)

mun age/age range and age requirements

other things about your blog/RPing/muse(s) (hard limits, crossover friendly, OC friendly, plot-driven, selectivity, etc.)

I really want to give the widest variety possible of dedicated RPers the opportunity to put themselves out there if they desire, since it truly is incredibly hard to find each other anymore. And I believe that since such phrasing tends to be a turn off for those who are more casual RPers, that alone cuts down on the likelihood of me having to message someone and tell them that they might not qualify.

I do plan to actually look at the blogs, though that is definitely going to annoy some and take more time to get people's submissions posted. It isn't because I am remotely interested in being judgmental of anyone's blog, writing, muses, or whatever! It's...tumblr. In 2021. Leaving anything up to an honor system is asking for trouble, and as we've seen in the not too distant past, very unfortunately, no matter what one says, the effort they go to in order to not rub people the wrong way, if someone wants to misread negativity into something, they will. Any time you have the topic of types of RP or broach it being at all acceptable to have preferences, requirements, expectations, and so on, it can turn quite ugly quite quickly.

It is a serious concern that those determinedly offended parties will misuse the listing. While seeing too many red flags of harassment on a blog doesn't retroactively stop them from seeing the list of RPers, it does at least prevent them being on it. That is absolutely within the rules, too, that this is not a place that is friendly/tolerant of any manner of policing and resultant harassment.*

*There will be a harassment policy. I realize that any listing can be used inappropriately, and I realize, too, that there is a limit to what I can do to cultivate and maintain a safe place...but that needs to be done in so far as possible and taken seriously. Callout culture is absolutely not allowed, period. That won't be added to the list, if it's engaged in and I'm aware of it, it'll be a removal from the list. Inappropriate use of the list as a callout resource will result in blocking, harassing others to RP with you when you've been politely declined will result in blocking. Yes, that can be subverted, but the stance matters.

And, obviously, I'd also be looking for anything really glaring like the basic (and it's my intention to make it as clear as possible that these are variable things, we're all real people here, that it's repeat and extreme behavior only) parameters state. Things like incessant, flippant muse creation and collection when there is, right there stated repeatedly, not the time or creative energy to keep up with those already present. Or just as obvious blog/muse/fandom hopping. Again, a thousand times, if that's how you enjoy RP and engage with it as your hobby, that's perfectly fine. It's also perfectly fine that other people don't enjoy that and would like a space to find the comparatively tiny number of muns who want to engage with the hobby in the way they do. That's what I'm trying to do!

I don't have an estimate on when this might go live, as has been clear with my horrifyingly delayed responses, I'm very busy right now. Just know that it will be happening! I believe things will be slowing down, allowing me more time to do more than a couple of responses a week, roughly toward the end of October/beginning of November. So, I'm thinking it might be the first week of November.

That's a little bit off, but it does give everyone time to send in asks about it! If there's something you can think of that would be helpful (questions for the submission, the way it's set up, rules, whatever you can think of), please, do send it in. I want to know! I'm just one very busy, very tired mun trying to still be a dedicated RPer myself elsewhere lol I appreciate that sort of feedback! And the list is for y'all, you really should get to opine and suggest things!

Also, I did just think of something, opinions, anyone? Since it is a list that is open to everyone who fits the description, there will be blogs containing "dark content." While tags would catch the major, basic things muns might wish to filter, that can't possibly be expected for unique squicks and triggers. I don't want anyone getting specific on the listing, I think that could incite problems, but how about warning that the blog does contain such content, with the notation right there in the rules, use info, and posted listings themselves that it's advised to visit rules links first for details. I'd like to avoid anyone getting exuberant, clicking a blog URL, and seeing some graphic imagery they need to avoid. This way, if you do that, you have been warned...repeatedly and responsibly, and made your choices.

Obviously, that is dependent upon muns actually detailing what upsetting content might be present on the blog in their rules and not simply making a blanket statement that it exists. I haven't seen many RPers of this type doing that in recent years, but I'm sure that the increasing threat of harassment has negatively impacted this honesty and warning system. Still, at least this way, you'd be warned and could exercise your own judgment messaging the mun of the blog to ask for content specifics before you proceeded beyond rules.

Those are my thoughts, anyway!