#rebranding yourself | names / pronouns

[lowkeychenle]

masterlist + all about me (and nct dream)

hi everyone! name change/rebrand alert ;)

prev @/lowkeyjaemle, now @/lowkeychenle :D

i'm juls (as some of you already know) and my ult group is NCT Dream! i'm chenle biased (this will never change lol) and the majority of my blog is also chenle biased lol.

i do not have a bias wrecker. chenle is safe (although jisung is my #2, which just makes sense bc chenji is a package deal okay).

i'm 23 years old, and my pronouns are she/her. now that all this intro/boring stuff is out of the way, please keep reading for my updated masterlist ;)

p.s. if u are also a chenle stan, there are so many chenle fics here just for u

AY YO! MDNI >:(

text!au masterlist | smau masterlist

labyrinth (M) fic teaser

Chenle was more complex than you originally gave him credit for, and unfortunately for you, that would be your downfall. Lost in the labyrinth, you’ll always struggle to find your way out when the rose-colored glasses don’t let the light shine through.

the hardest part (M)

You, Chenle, and Jay have been best friends since before you could even remember. After moving away to pursue your dreams, you don't talk to them as often as you should. One day, you get a call notifying you of Jay's passing. When you go back to your hometown, you find everything is different except for one person--Chenle.

Some Things Can't Be Taught (M)

In which you are failing college physics, and your childhood best friend offers up one of his friends as your tutor—except, there’s a little something he wants to learn from you in exchange.

Guilty As Sin? (M)

Chenle is everything you want--everything you need. Somehow, the thought of him manages to pull you back in even after you were free. Messy kisses, late night trysts, and him tracing the word 'mine' on your thigh--barely anything, so how could you possibly be guilty as sin? (based on Guilty As Sin? by Taylor Swift)

And Then It Was (M)

After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Cruel Summer (M)

He wants you. Everything to do with you--your heart, your body, all while keeping your friendship. What's a man to do during a 30-day hook up to get you to stay? (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

See My Sea (M)

You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Like We Just Met (M)

Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever. (smut/fluff) *WC>10k

SOS (M)

Road trips with Chenle are your favorite thing. Late at night, the two of you stop at a hotel, but it's not everything it seems to be. You barely have time to settle before you get a call to evacuate immediately. Beneath red neon flashing lights, you and Chenle have to try and escape the group of people hunting you down. (suspense/thriller/smut)

this is me trying (M)

Meeting Chenle was a fluke--a good one, at that, but you never expected things to escalate the way they did. But despite the whirlwind romance, you'd go back to December if you had the chance... (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Is It Over Now? (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Your relationship with Chenle is nothing but fight after fight. Amidst the toxicity, infidelity comes into play--except you're determined to one up him...but is it ever truly over? (angst/smut) *WC>10k

Within the Piano Keys (M)

For as long as you could remember, Chenle has been your neighbor and childhood best friend. That is, until one day he disappears without a word…or so you thought, since your mother hid all the letters he sent you. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Paris (M)

Pure smut on a hotel room balcony in Paris! Woo. (smut)

Sunshine (M)

You're not usually able to wake up with Chenle due to his schedules, but on the days that you can, it's certainly worth it. (smut/fluff)

Quiet Down (M)

You and Chenle visit your parents, but he just can't help himself... (smut)

You're Not Sorry

You and Chenle broke up two weeks ago. The first time he calls you at 3am, you ignore it. Then he calls again. You answer, and you go to him knowing there's nothing he could do to fix what he's broken. (angst)

The Last Straw (M)

Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin). (smut/fluff/angst)

Chilled Nights, Fogged Windows (M)

After being gone for weeks, the first thing Chenle wants to do is get ice cream with you. One thing leads to another, and suddenly, you're in the backseat (oooops). (smut)

In Your Dreams (M)

What started as innocent phone sex hotline stuff (if that can ever really be innocent?), you get an offer you just can't refuse...you just have to be a little sleep deprived ;) (Chenle as Freddy Kruger Halloween thing lol)

Irrevocably (M) Series Masterlist

You were friends with benefits with Chenle until he got a girlfriend...fast forward months later, and now they've broken up--leaving Chenle to come back to you, very much in need of a distraction. (angst/smut/fluff)

Opposites Attract [Poly!Jaemle AU] Series Masterlist

Your relationship with Jaemin started out simple--friends with benefits with zero complications...until there was one. That complication's name is Zhong Chenle, and after Jaemin agrees to expand your exclusivity deal to involve him, there's only one logical thing left to do... (smut)

모래성 (ONE) (TWO) (THREE)

You and Mark have had a friends with benefits relationship for almost a year now. He's in love with you, addicted to you, but you don't feel the same. You're his poison. (smut/angst)

Late Nights (M)

Mark's busy schedule only gives him time to come over late at night, but it's safe to say neither of you are complaining by the time you fall asleep. (fluff/smut)

Empire State of Mind (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Life with Jisung is almost perfect. He loves you, and you love him. But when you run into your ex, Mark Lee, you realize the one thing you've been missing all along is him. (smut/angst)

Lost & Wayward Mini-Masterlist

After the worst couple weeks of your life, you finally break down in the middle of an alleyway. Jaemin hears you and comes to comfort you, and little do you know, he's about to change your life--in more ways than one. (fluff/smut/angst)

[remebee]

oh boy oh yippie my existence is acknowledged. double spaced because it is more aesthetically pleasing to my dumb ass

Name? id rather not say but you can just call me rem

2. Pronouns and gender? she/her transfemme

3. Sexuality? bisexual and bi-myself

4. Country? Good ole US of A in a no bueno state

5. Top 5 fandoms? I dont engage with fandoms that much but probably League of Legends, Dungeons and Dragons, Final Fantasy XIV, Magic the Gathering, and VA-11 Hall-A

6. What is your most forbidden snack? ngl some dice look real fuckin tasty, especially some of the resin-cast dice

7. Would you pet a bug? I would pet the hell out of mantises and bees but nothing else

8. Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class. I am 92% sure that I am allergic to mint. Every time I have anything with mint in it I feel like my mouth is being torn apart at the molecular level. I put on some lip balm I didnt know had mint in it and started crying because it hurt so much, it felt like my lips were doused in napalm.

9. What does the colour blue taste like? ink from a gel pen

10. What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? the most beautiful thing I had ever seen was a coastline somewhere in Florida. I wanna say it was maybe Pensacola? The skies were clear and the moon was full. You could see a few stars in the sky and the beach was bathed in a silvery light. I had my headphones partly in listening to the album For Lovers by Lamp turned down low so I could also listen to waves coming in. The land breeze was strong that night but it was also pleasant. No one else was on the beach. It was just me and my thoughts. It was the first time I had ever really been allowed to just be by myself like this while on a family vacation. It gave me a taste of freedom and introspective. Part of what makes it so beautiful to me is this was the first moment that I had ever really considered myself and who I was, was I really happy with myself. I ended up accepting the fact that I was trans while I sat on the sand and just let myself be one with the beach. I entered the beach a boy, and left a woman.

11. What is the stupidest thing you've ever done? probably the time my cousin and I thought it would be a good idea to put yuca flour into our coke-guaraná mixture because both tasted good on their own so surely they would taste good together right? Wrong. It was bad, very bad. I almost choked on it.

12. Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say? I work a sales job and Ive had a customer get very upset with me because I told him he needed a male/male hdmi cable to hook his laptop into his tv for video. He was upset that it was male/male and not female/male because "we dont do things like that in this country". He ended up not buying the cable because of it.

13. Hyperfixation song? lately its been The Circle from the Guilty Gear Strive OST but its usually the album VA-11 Hall-A (Original Soundtrack: Second Round) by Garoad, I even own it on Vinyl :>

14. Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username? pfp is a random pic I have on my computer. My username was originally just remedy but I decided to rebrand to involve bees cause they cute

15. Dream career as a child? astronaut

16. Dream career as an adult? uhhhhhhhhhhhh idk. Currently studying computer science so something related to that probably

17. Thoughts on cilantro? ive never knowingly tried cilantro but im pretty sure it tastes like soap since I had pho one time and Im pretty sure that place uses cilantro and it tasted like soap

18. Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why? ive never been banned per se but me and my friends have been forced out of a mattress store cause they mimed gay sex on one of the display models

19. What is your cursed food combination? dipping the scooby doo gummies pictured below

into a perfect 50/50 ketchup-mashed potato concoction and let me tell you it will reveal the secrets of the universe to you.

Honorable mention of cutting a croissant in half and putting nothing but ketchup on it (this one made my friends oh so very very upset)

20. Trans rights? Yes please :3

The only person Ive interacted with on this site tagged me so ima tag the only other person I know, @pizzahutunofficial

“I just came from r/196” ask game

Saw another post. I think I should invite y'all to one of our longstanding traditions. Answer the questions then tag 10 (or more) people. I'll go first.

Name? Frankie

Pronouns and gender? he/they/it, transmasc

Sexuality? Lesbian

Country? USA

Top 5 fandoms? Bungou Stray Dogs, Cosmere, All for the Game, Fundiesnark (not a series but I'm too deep in it to not consider it a fandom), .....the tornado fandom? (they're my special interest)

What is your Most forbidden snack? The preserved bones at the Atlanta Bodies Exhibition. They looked so crunchy...

Would you pet a bug? If it's big enough, it is pettable.

Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class. I like to drive around rural areas and photograph old, sometimes abandoned locations in the dead of night. I have been literally chased out of towns by foot and by car on two separate occasions. The second time this happened, "See You Again" by Miley Cyrus came up on shuffle and that's the soundtrack my friend and I tore out of town to. Also every "guy" I've dated except for my most recent ex (who has big egg energy) is a lesbian now.

What does the color blue taste like? Creme brulee

What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? The appalachian mountains of Tennessee in the middle of summer. There's kudzu everywhere. On the backroads, there were several old, dilapidated Baptist churches barely hanging to the side of the mountain. I wonder how many of them were still in use.

What is the stupidest thing you've ever done? Short version: my friend's house almost got broken into by this dude who'd been stalking us for months while we were home alone. Instead of calling the cops, we decided to confront him with a bow and arrow (me), a hatchet, and a baseball bat (him). The plan was that if it went badly, we would simply throw his corpse into one of the many lakes in the neighborhood and let the alligators eat his remains (this was Florida). Why? Because we were afraid of having our home-alone privileges revoked. Luckily for us all, the guy fucked off and we never saw him again.

Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say? My ex thought that Jackalopes were real. Also, a nurse I was doing rotations with apparently thought that "Witness Protection" was for Jehovah's Witnesses.

Hyperfixation song? Young Enough + Bleach by Charly Bliss

Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username? Profile pic; I'm transmasc and I'm currently obsessed with TriStamp. Username; It was my fake internet name when I was like 13. I won't change it because I want my mutuals to recognize me, and because I do have a viral post associated with this name.

Dream career as a child? Doctor (funnily enough I'm now in nursing school)

Dream career as an adult? Professional Jester. Not a comedian. I just want to be some weird little guy who dresses silly and you can hire me to roast your boss at work parties.

Thoughts on cilantro? Delicious

Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why? I honestly can't remember? Probably... but in recent memory I've mainly banned people from places.

What is your cursed food combination? Pineapple on a hotdog with grilled onions. It Slaps.

Trans rights? TRANS RIGHTS

Tagging: @rocket-mankoi @mostlymarco @atleast8courics @jazzlike39 @gemsweater72 @limbobilbo @ameliaaltare @redcrane112 @theoneofwhomisblue @twinkenjoyer @theultimatecarp and anyone else who wants to jump on

[mcyt-factives]

requests: open!!

hi!!! welcome to the mcyt-factives blog - we're a help blog focused SPECIFICALLY on factives in systems! our primary focus is factives of mcyt creators/twitch streamers, although we may take requests for introjects of other creators if we're familiar enough with them. we do, however, reserve the right to deny any request, for any reason!!

(our info is also on this carrd!)

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the blog is run by two mods!!

mod wilbur/dream (you can call us either) - 18, any neopronouns - can do all sources / request types listed - polyfragmented / introject-heavy system (both factives AND fictives)

mod evans/bryce (either one works!!) - 18, it/its or any neopronouns, we can do any mcyt source (with small exceptions) & all request types, except names! (neopronouns okay!), a polyfragmented, introject heavy system!

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our sources:

dreamsmp / originssmp / tales from the smp

empires smp / afterlife smp

hermitcraft

team crafted

the life smp series (3rd life, last life, double life)

generally, any mcyt source assuming we're familiar / comfortable with it

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what you can request:

names / neos

playlists

timeline questions

pendulum readings

carekits

canon calls

kinfessions (or. whatever the factive equivalent would be /lh)

more things may be added later

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DNI (of which we reserve the right to add to at any time!!):

Basic DNI criteria

Anti-mogai

Syscourse / fakeclaimers / if you bar endos from your blog

Anti-DSMP

If you police/bar people from your blog because of their label(s)

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tagging system under the cut!

#about the channel | important #community tab | not requests (/ general chatting posts) #shoutout | promos #reading your comments | asks #you ask ; i answer | questions #aaaaand... upload! | request accepted #the internet's out... | request denied #checking the archives | inbox check

#rebranding yourself | names / pronouns #stream music | playlists #q&a time! | timeline questions #consulting | pendulums #check the p.o box | carekits

[shrimpmandan]

I’ve been reflecting some on my views lately.

I wanted to give my thoughts on the MOGAI community and my perspective on it as a neurodivergent trans person, and just kind of reflect on my stance on and understanding of it. This is really rambly because it's 3 AM and I'm tired, but this is just my own perspective on the MOGAI community and its relation to transmeds. I think the issue I have with MOGAI is mainly its conflation with being transgender, and how these terms are labeled with -gender at all.

To preface for anyone who doesn’t follow me and is just scrolling through tags, I'm autistic + ADHD, and to my knowledge a binary trans man. I consider myself a transmedicalist and anti-MOGAI, just on the basis that I don't think MOGAI genders can be, well, genders. From what I understand, gender is your neurological sex. I know there's been critiques of the brain sex theory, but it's the one that makes the most sense to me. In essence, your brain can't be pupgender because pupgender isn't a sex. I'm very science-oriented and I'm not inclined to support something as a label if it does not describe a real, proven occurrence. 

Though, I understand why people, particularly people with autism, use these labels. Some of them appeal to synesthesia, a complicated experience often comorbid with autism. I understand how an autistic person with synesthesia would 'feel' their gender. Hell, I know I do. I always described my gender as a feeling. Now, gender is more complicated than just 'a feeling', but my point stands. An autistic person may think their gender is foggy due to synesthesia, though I don't think there are any existing studies discussing such a correlation yet. Other labels, such as "autigender", are simply descriptors. It's not "my gender is autism", but rather "my gender is affected by my autism". This is where I have another issue. MOGAI labels are made for neurodivergent people, so why are they named in such a way that makes it really easy to misinterpret them literally? Even neurotypicals I've met see "autigender" and infer that it means "my gender is autism". Additionally, when getting into neopronouns, a lot of neurodivergent people have difficulties using or remembering neopronouns and how to conjugate them. I literally can't use nounself pronouns because it fucks with my language processing issues so much. But again, I can understand why they're used. Some neurodivergent people have difficulties using singular they/them. I read a post about someone having standard pronouns (he/she/they) be misophonia triggers, so they use neopronouns that don't trigger such a response. My only issue there is just how many there are. Thon/thons existed as a singular neutral pronoun at one point, and I think we should bring that pronoun back for folks who can't use standard pronouns comfortably, without having this laundry list of them.

In my opinion, MOGAI would be basically harmless if MOGAI genders weren't conflated with being transgender. Simply put, most transgender people can't relate to the MOGAI crowd. And by extension, what is MOGAI fighting for? How would their activism fit into ours? I know that many people who use MOGAI labels are also transgender, but some of 'em aren't. Some MOGAI users are cis neurodivergent people who have varying difficulties understanding or describing their gender. Now, I never experienced that, so I can't relate, but I can see it. I can see why a cis ND person would think "my gender feels kinda fuzzy" and then be like "fuck it, guess I'm fuzzgender." But, that doesn't make them trans. This weird conflation between MOGAI and being trans is extremely harmful and what a lot of people in transmed/anti-MOGAI circles take issue with. A lot of us don't relate to MOGAI and feel like our issues are being trivialized by this narrative that gender is just a fun way to express yourself, which is sadly not a reality for a lot of trans people, especially the teens who are pre-transition (the ones who are typically transmeds). It feels extremely invalidating for many. 

I think this is just down to the way MOGAI is presented. MOGAI was originally coined to be a more inclusive term for LGBT after all, and MOGAI genders are branded as, well, genders. I think that MOGAI should be rebranded and adjusted to be more cohesive (so that there aren’t a billion labels that are unused or just repeats of each other) as well as better described so that they don’t necessarily conflate with being trans. I've seen some people propose calling xenogenders "xenoidentities" instead, for example. "Xenodescriptors" could also work, possibly. I'm the type of person who tries to look for compromise. While I do put labels on my stances, my opinions on issues tend to be more complex than the label lets on. There's definitely a way to make both communities happy and healthy and fulfill their intended purposes. It's just difficult to get anything done when most of the online discourse is spent shitting on each other and harassing each other. I frequently see both transmeds and tucutes be doxxed, harassed, suicide baited, et cetera et cetera. That doesn't accomplish anything. That's just bullying. Name-calling and harassment is just bullying. If we could just facilitate a respectful, meaningful discussion and work together as communities to understand each other better and come to an agreement, then this discourse wouldn't need to go on any longer. Nothing is black and white. Both sides have their reasons for feeling the way they do. This applies to literally every other major LGBT discourse going on as well, from bi vs pan to acecourse to whatever the hell else. We need to make an effort to understand each other. This post is absolutely open for discussion if it doesn't get buried. I think I covered both sides pretty well but obviously the experiences of people who actually use MOGAI labels are much more important than my views from the outside. I’m cross-tagging this since I don’t want this to just be flooded with one side. I am actively welcoming interaction from either side on this post. Please just ignore this post/block me if you don’t wanna see it. This isn’t cross-tagged with malicious intent. I simply wish to gain more perspective on why people may use MOGAI labels, and also why other transmeds dislike them so. I obviously could be missing a few things.

[simping-for-sadie]

I was tagged by @redeadepression to do these :^) I don’t normally post personal stuff on this blog, but what the hell, once in a while won’t hurt. Thank you for the tag!!! Name: I don’t like my name so I use Aldrig online, it means “never” in Swedish and Danish and I am neither of those, I just really liked it and got it from a song.

Gender/pronouns: cis, she/her

Sexuality: lesbian

Height: 161cm I think

Fave animal: Cat, red panda

Avg. hours of sleep: 5-9

Dog or cat: Oh definitely a cat, I am so scared of dogs.

When I made this blog: On the 29th of June, 2020.

Why I made this blog: I started playing RDR2 in March, since then I played RDR and UN as well and I just got so obsessed with this franchise I had to make a new sideblog, because my main blog was too unrelated and I didn’t want to rebrand just for this haha. And when I get obsessed with something, I make fanart for it, so that was a huge reason too, a place to post my drawings :^D

Reason for url: I just really love Sadie.... that’s the reason lol And I’m very uncreative and I needed a url quickly and I still haven’t thought of an alternative. Hopefully I’ll think of something better :^P

Current time: 22:25

Dream job: An illustrator and an art teacher 

Current song stuck in head: I’d have to say Lose Yourself by Eminem, just because my mum was playing it on her computer the whole time I’ve been writing this post lol I don’t know exactly who to tag but maybe @yeehawbitch @yeehoe @acethur-morgan @theyoftenwhisper I don’t know, I’m shy about tagging people haha. Obviously, if you guys don’t want to answer these personal questions, that’s okay, I’m just struggling with who to tag and if you do it, hope you’ll enjoy! :^P

[sukifms]

            *  GET  A  LOAD  OF  THIS  GUY  .  well  ,  well  ,  look  who  it  is  ....  late  and  highly  ashamed  of  it  :  it’s  me  ,  it’s  kofi  .  as  mentioned  in  my  intro  within  the  di.scor.d  chat  ,  i  prefer  she / her  or  they / them  pronouns  and  i  reside  in  the  eastern  tz  .  i’ll  be  introducing  the�� too  hot  to  trot  sukanda  baramichai  ,  known  affectionately  around  the  world  as  suki  .  i  already  know  i’m  about  to  write  a  NOVEL  so  strap  yourself  in  ladies  ,  gents  ,  and  non - binary  pals  !

            read   all   about   sukanda  ‘suki’  baramichai,   otherwise   affectionately   nicknamed   the  prom  queen.   the   twenty  three  year  old   model  and  podcaster   is   widely   known   for   being   scintillating,  poised,  bellicose,  and  vampish,   and   recently   made   headlines   when   they   allegedly  was  seen  vacationing  on  a  yacht  with  an  older  man  who  is  married  and  has  children.   apparently   judas   claims   to   be   sitting   on   an   even   bigger   story   involving   them   -   whatever   the   truth   may   be,   i'm   sure   it   won't   stay   hidden   for   long.   &   luxurious  satin  robes  brushing  against  tan  skin,  crystalline  eyes  glassed  with  glittering  tears,  the  lingering  scent  of  peach  vanilla  long  after  she’s  gone,  and  a  practiced  smile  highlighted  by  bright  stage  lights.   ◜   ⭒   ◞

trigger  warning(s)  :  mentions  of  an  eating  disorder  and  poor  parenting  .  

stars  can’t  shine  without  darkness  .

name  :  sukanda  baramichai .

nickname(s)  :  suki  ,  the  prom  queen  .

age  +  date  of  birth  :  23  +  may  25th  ,  1997  .

astrological  sign  :  gemini  .

myers - briggs  personality  type  :  esfp  ,  the  entertainer  .

enneagram  type  :  the  individualist  .

moral  alignment  :  chaotic  neutral  .

gender  +  pronouns  :  cis  female  +  she / her / hers  .

place  of  birth  :  pathumwan  ,  thailand  .

place  of  residence  :  manhattan  ,  new  york  city  .

sexual  orientation  :  bisexual  .

romantic  orientation  :  biromantic  .

occupation  :  former  beauty  queen  ,  sugar  baby  ,  model  +  podcaster  (  suki  &  sage  )  .

nationality  :  thai  ,  obtained  american  citizenship  in  2018  .

ethnicity  :  thai  .

language  spoken  :  english  ,  thai  ,  and  basic  japanese  .

instagram  handle  :  sukichai  .

what  would  you  wish  for  if  you  had  one  more  chance  ?

            sukanda’s  story  begins  in  the  beautiful  district  of  pathumwan  ,  where  she  was  the  second  child  of  five  .  the  first  child  in  the  baramichai  family  was  her  older  brother  phya  ,  who  was  three  years  older  and  absolutely  terrified  of  the  baby  that  didn’t  speak  .  by  the  time  sukanda  was  three  ,  the  two  had  become  best  friends  ,  and  although  sukanda  couldn’t  keep  up  with  him  and  his  friends  ,  he  always  made  sure  to  play  with  her  once  big  tears  collected  in  her  eyes  .  after  sukanda  ,  the  baramichai  family  was  filled  with  three  other  children  :  two  daughters  named  hansa  and  tulaya  ,  and  lastly  with  a  son  named  daeng  when  sukanda  was  thirteen  .

           while  growing  up  ,  sukanda  lived  in  a  world  of  wealth  .  her  mother  ,  kamlai  was  known  throughout  thailand  for  being  one  of  the  country’s  best  dermatologists  and  also  owning  chai  cosmetics  ,  a  luxurious  skincare  brand  .  her  husband  ,  suran  ,  is  a  highly  respected  cardiothoracic surgeon  at  one  of  the  best  teaching  hospitals  in  their  country  .  the  two  made  a  lavish  living  for  their  children  ,  continuously  taking  them  on  trips  around  the  world  ,  educating  them  at  the  best  schools  ,  and  never  allowing  them  to  leave  with  a  hair  out  of  place  .  for  sukanda  ,  though  ,  her  mother  seemed  to  take  more  of  an  interest  to  her  .

           of  course  ,  sukanda  was  a  little  girl  who  liked  to  play  with  her  mom’s  makeup  ,  and  would  ask  for  her  mom  to  put  lipstick  on  her  while  she  was  getting  ready  in  the  mornings  .  she  appreciated  clothes  and  shoes  ,  and  even  formed  a  love  for  perfume  when  her  mom  let  her  wear  it  to  school  once  .  naturally  ,  kamlai  took  sukanda’s  interest  and  decided to  run  with  it  .  when  sukanda  was  four  ,  her  mother  put  her  in  her  first  beauty  pageant  .  despite  not  being  trained  ,  it  was  evident  that  sukanda  had  a  natural  talent  for  pageantry  ,  so  that  became  her  way  of  bonding  with  her  mother  .  she  also  entered  dance  classes  for  her  talent  in  the  show  ,  and  naturally  ,  sukanda  was  good  at  that  as  well  .

           as  she  grew  older  ,  though  ,  sukanda’s  mother  began  to  take  more  interest  in  ensuring  that  she  was  the  most  perfect  out  of  siblings  .  when  they  were  playing  outside  ,  sukanda  was  kept  in  the  house  ,  running  through  her  pageant  routine  over  and  over  again  until  her  eyes  were  heavy  from  sleep  .  during  the  school  year  ,  she  did  her  homework  ,  went  to  dance  practice  ,  practiced  her  routine  ,  slept  ,  and  did  it  all  over  again  the  next  day  .  sukanda’s  love  for  pageants  never  changed  ,  but  she  was  beginning  to  resent  how  much  she  was  unable  to  enjoy  the  things  that  her  siblings  and  friends  were  able  to  .

oh  ,  but  you’re  so  pretty  ,  the  stars  would  cry  .

          start  of  trigger  warning  --  sukanda  was  fifteen  when  she  began  to  train  for  the  miss  teen  thailand  pageant  ,  and  her  mother  changed  for  the  worst  .  sukanda  spent  her  days  working  out  and  dancing  ,  and  if  she  so  dared  to  reach  for  something  unhealthy  during  her  meals  ,  her  mother  would  throw  a  fit  and  berate  her  .  ‘  do  you  want  to  be  fat  ?  ’  her  mother  would  ask  while  throwing  the  food  away  .  ‘  do  you  want  to  start  losing  because  you  can’t  fit  into  your  dresses  ?  ’  the  constant  belief  that  she  would  lose  due  to  her  weight  made  sukanda  think  twice  whenever  it  was  dinner  time  .  she  suddenly  began  to  have  protein  shakes  for  breakfast  and  lunch  ,  there  was  no  snacking  in  her  diet  ,  and  dinners  were  always  small  .  workouts  became  most  important  ,  and  her  pageant  dress  in  the  closet  continuously  loomed  over  her  head  .

          the  stress  of  wanting  to  win  continuously  took  over  the  young  girl  ,  and  she  wanted  nothing  more  than  to  win  ,  and  she  did  .  at  the  age  of  sixteen  ,  sukanda  earned  the  title  of  miss  teen  thailand  ,  but  she  didn’t  stop  there  .  she  continued  on  her  journey  ,  and  it  was  unfortunate  that  food  had  become  the  enemy  .  she  wanted  nothing  more  than  to  remain  skinny  ,  to  remain  beautiful  ,  and  to  remain  a  winner  .  her  siblings  noticed  the  change  in  sukanda  ,  and  would  often  try  to  sneak  food  to  her  at  night  ,  but  were  often  caught  by  their  mother  .  the  punishments  for  natasha  seemingly  never  ended  ,  and  it  all  came  to  a  head  when  she  was  eighteen  years  old  .

           sukanda’s  father  ,  suran  ,  had  taken  her  out  to  have  their  annual  father - daughter  date  .  it  was  filled  with  fun  and  shopping  ,  but  when  suran  had  taken  sukanda  out  for  lunch  ,  he  noticed  how  despondent  his  daughter  was  .  she  simply  sipped  her  water  and  munched  on  small  pieces  of  food  ,  but  she  never  ate  anything  more  than  that  .  worried  ,  suran  confronted  his  wife  about  sukanda’s  eating  habits  ,  and  was  disheartened  to  know  that  she  had  been  eating  that  way  for  a  long  time  .  suran  was  upset  with  himself  for  not  noticing  his  daughter’s  changed  behavior  or  his  wife’s  ,  and  when  sukanda  fainted  from  fatigue  and  lack  of  nutrients  ,  it  was  the  final  straw  .  

          she  was  sent  off  for  treatment  ,  as  was  her  mother  ,  and  her  health  was  instantly  a  priority  .  for  two  years  ,  sukanda  had  to  slowly  relearn  that  food  was  not  the  enemy  ,  and  that  she  had  to  take  better  care  of  herself  .  it  took  months  of  struggles  to  eventually  grasp  with  this  concept  ,  and  she  was  able  to  place  herself  as  a  priority  --  end  of  trigger  warning  .  once  sukanda  returned  home  following  a  year  of  treatment  ,  she  decided  that  she  wanted  to  continue  with  pageantry  .  although  her  mother  was  still  working  through  her  own  treatment  ,  sukanda  wanted  to  provde  to  herself  that  she  was  much  happier  and  healthier  than  she  ever  had  been  .  she  trained  well  and  made  sure  to  take  care  of  herself  ,  and  when  she  was  twenty  ,  sukanda  had  won  the  title  of  miss  world  .

you  smiled  at  the  stars  like  they  knew  all  your  secrets  .

            sukanda’s  life  was  finally  back  on  track  ,  and  she  knew  that  she  needed  to  remain  on  that  path  ,  so  she  decided  to  move  out  on  her  own  .  she  had  gotten  her  own  apartment  ,  and  gained  even  more  recognition  when  she  attended  the  show  for  michael  kors  spring  2019  .  that  same  year  ,  sukanda  went  on  to  participate  in  the  miss  universe  pageant  .  although  she  placed  as  first  runner  up  ,  sukanda  was  honored  that  she  had  gotten  the  chance  .  following  the  pageant  ,  she  was  signed  to  img  models  ,  and  her  career  soared  from  there  .  insert  my  talenti  break  here  CFNJCBHVC  .  she  appeared  on  magazine  covers  such  as  harper’s  bazaar  ,  allure  ,  nylon  ,  vogue  hong  kong  ,  vogue  korea  ,  elle  korea  ,  dazed  ,  and  many  more  .  she  became  the  muse  of  celine  in  2019  as  well  ,  and  due  to  her  growing  demand  ,  sukanda  decided  to  leave  thailand  and  make  los  angeles  her  home  .

            within  a  few  months  of  living  in  manhattan  ,  sukanda  decided  to  rebrand  herself  under  the  nickname  suki  ,  and  it  aided  in  her  meteoric  rise  .  she  soon  decided  to  launch  her  own  podcast  ,  suki  &  sage  ,  where  she  primarily  talks  about  lifestyle  &  wellness  with  special  guests  every  week  .  suki’s  podcast  is  known  for  being  frank  about  various  aspects  such  as  sex  ,  relationships  ,  and  having  ‘  girl  talk  ’  sessions  .  very  recently  ,  suki  was  named  as  the  global  ambassador  for  bulgari  .

look  among  the  stars  .

           as  for  suki’s  personality  ,  the  only  word  that  comes  to  mind  is  chaos  .  she  lives  for  having  good  time  ,  and  it  mostly  stems  from  everything  that  she  missed  as  a  child  .  she  can  be  very  fun - loving  ,  and  she’s  definitely  the  girl  who  doesn’t  want  to  go  home  when  the  club  is  closing  .  she  likes  to  laugh  ,  and  she  loves  to  be  around  people  who  make  her  happy  .  she  has  a  VERY  strong  idgaf  attitude  on  the  outside  ,  but  definitely  worries  about  potentially  relapsing  on  her  ED  ,  but  she  remains  in  therapy  to  help  when  those  thoughts  arise  .  she  can  have  an  over - inflated  ego  at  times  ,  so  be  careful  when  giving  her  a  compliment  !  she’s  super  provocative  and  nows  how  to  use  her  sexuality  in  order  to  get  something  she  wants  .  suki  is  not  so  secretly  a  sugar  baby  (  in  relation  to  her  rumor  )  ,  and  she  mostly  does  it  because  it’s  fun  !  she  likes  attention  ,  very  much  an  attention  hog  ,  and  even  if  the  people  that  she  interacts  with  are  only  paying  attention  to  her  in  exchange  for  money  ,  suki  doesn’t  really  care  .

           i’m  super  late  in  terms  of  plotting  ,  but  i  will  definitely  be  posting  a  list  of  plots  that  i’d  love  to  have  for  suki  !  i  want  to  try  and  get  it  done  before  i  hop  into  doing  some  homework  ,  but  if  there  are  some  plots  where  suki  could  fit  ,  please  let  me  know  !

[plantfeed]

        ok turns out i am 100% that dumbass bitch who still aint posted my intro on main....... so for reference.....  hello! im nora ( she / her ). im a 24 year old creative writing graduate currently residing in sheffield, south yorkshire. when i’m not hunched over a keyboard writing, i enjoy independent cinema, chinese food, and big nights out that i’ll remember only in fleeting snapshots. i currently work as a barmaid and a tutor for a filmmaking project.  

without further ado, here is my interpretation on the skeleton ‘ophelia’, a development of a character who’s been brewing at the back of my mind for absolutely AGES now so thank u for giving me the push to actually flesh her out. 

ive included a full biography, but please feel free 2 skip to bullet points if TLDR because it is LOOONG..... and im so happy 2 be here.... new home.... chefs kiss.... yes lov u all

IN CHARACTER.

skeleton: ophelia name: theresa rigby. (goes by diminutives tess, tessa, tea or thea. the only time she’s theresa is when she’s in trouble.) age: 21, born july 10 (cancer) faceclaim: diana silvers. gender: cis-female. pronouns: she/her degree: comparative literature & ancient history (joint honours)

INTRO.

trigger warnings.

loss of a parent. missing person / disappearance. drugs and alcohol reliance. death.

BIOGRAPHY.

i. narragansett, rhode island.

              1999, an Austrian sunrise, it is the year of the Water Monkey.  A water baby, first screams under the surface, the catch of it gargled in your throat. A birth mark the size and shape of a door handle pressed into your pelvis like a lover’s badge. Born like a clenched fist. Annie always wished you’d be more like an open palm. You still carry that tension with you, an unreadable kind of silence when you slink around the edge of a room or perch on an arm rest like a bird about to startle and fly off. Nobody knows a thing about you and you like it that way. Conceived in the winter, some of that coldness still lingers in you. 

              The only perfect girl is a dead girl. That’s what you learned, last-born runt of the litter growing up in the bedroom of a girl who would be forever cold, young and pretty. In the beginning, they thought you were a blessing — Bet’s soul reincarnate, the same pale face they’d seen as they’d signed her into the pick ‘n’ mix family. You were given her clothes, her room, even her middle name, stripped and rebranded like a toy doll bought after the last one’s head was chewed off by the dog. Four boys, a dead sister, and you who — with your birdlike features and unrelenting eyes — was merely a walking ghost. Tennis skirts, nail varnish, a shag rug, a rotten corsage; these were the staple reminders that you were living in a shrine, the room never quite your own lest you disturb the lingering presence of Bet. Soon, you began to see it as not a room but rather a prison cell caging you in the imprint of a sister you never met.

              Your mothers met at an undergraduate socialist meeting when the fall semester fell into winter, Kath in a mustard coloured beret, Annie in a blood-orange duffle coat, a philosophy major and an art historian respectively. Your childhood was a montage of potato printing eels onto the walls of a Rhode Island boarding house next to the sea. Five children — some adopted, some surrogate — a permanent rotation of rooms and always a handful of lodgers to foot the bill. Travelling salesmen, students on gap years and tinkers in search of odd-jobs became a flipbook of faces etched into your memories like fleeting figures in the wings of a theatre; you sketch them into the body of your work. They become the characters to haunt the pages of your notebooks, stashed beneath floorboards lest they fall into too-hungry flour-caked fingers, scones baking in the oven two floors below. A house that seemed to physically inhale every time a new body entered it, tall and thin, too small to house all that weight. The gaps beneath the floorboards are the only spaces that feel like your own, untouched by a girl who’s shadow you were born in. In your diary, you scribble her name until it tears through the pages thinking that if you wish hard enough, you’ll make yourself her. It’s never enough.

              At twelve, you lose Annie to a boating accident. You lose a piece of yourself with her and stop wearing yellow. Grief makes a better writer out of you though it sounds selfish to admit it. Kath remarries the following spring, a man named Peter. He is ordinary in all the ways Annie was magical and when he sits in your mother’s chair you feel yourself slip out of your skin and into the body of a raven cawing in the woods, scratching at the dustmites. You try to teach yourself how to be a girl, though you’ve always felt more like a wild thing crouched in the attic window of the lighthouse, screaming at the crash of the waves. You wanted to love the sea as closely as it owned you. In the sea you were rewritten into a tide, into a shell, into the swell of a rockpool around the body of a crab. You wanted to be like the ocean —a tangible, changeling thing —making paper boats and setting them out to sea, wishing you could shrink yourself into one, sail away. For a while, you toy with the idea of starving yourself into something the size and shape of an eel; of growing gills in the night and darting into the ebbing current. They’d think you crazy if you told them.

ii. concord, massachusetts. 

              You butt heads with Kath on a daily basis. She tells you you resent her for moving on with her life when you seem unable to move on with yours. That maybe a clean break would be best for all the family. A fresh start. A change of scene. You lock yourself in the bathroom and cry for an hour until your mouth feels raw, like running a cheesegrater down the inside of your throat. The following September, they send you to boarding school, two suitcases and an armful of Annie’s jumpers. Kath has decided they don’t compliment her skin tone, and she’s not twenty-five or studying philosophy any more. New England becomes the best decision for you that your family have ever made. You thrive on the independence of living in a dormitory on a corridor of Alison’s and Margaret’s and Ruth’s. From the names on their doors, you paint them into people in your head, red-haired Ruth who collects birth stones and can count to twenty in Mandarin. They turn out to be nothing like the versions of them you’ve spun. You love them anyway, their rough-softness, the scuffed knee thrill of growing up half-wild. There’s a brightness in their girlhood that you try to capture in your words. 

              Though you never quite find yourself settling into a group, Dr. Franklin becomes the anchor to which you tether yourself to, a little girl leeching onto her Literature professor for a sense of stability in a tempestuous world. The others might think it sad, but she sees something in you — an inner restlessness, a need to analyse and observe and contain everything within poetry and prose — that reminds her of herself at your age. You begin one-to-one sessions after the school day has closed, whisper about Proust and O’Hara over frothed lattes in a campus-run coffee shop, ink blots on the pages of dog-eared copies she’s gifted to you on an indefinite loan. Sometimes, you think you love her. You run your fingers over the buttons of her typewriter, close your eyes, and imagine yourself pulling on her skin like a new coat.

              The woods become your saviour. In Narragansett you never knew woods, only harboursides, seafood restaurants, the smell of the ocean breeze and a lighthouse calling you home. You learn to love the smell of the earth after rain. The feeling of soil between your toes. The sense of belonging you feel trailing through the woods in stark white nightgown, twigs catching on the mud-stained hem. Massachusetts becomes a place of revision. You remake yourself as a fawn, elegance in your limbs and hunger in your heart. You learn how to write yourself into being. There’s a violence in your grace — simultaneously glass and the hammer that shatters it — and despite the ethereal way you move it’s the leonine stature of a tigress, claws bared, teeth sharpened into fangs, but a smile like butter wouldn’t melt. Lady Macbeth was always your favourite of Shakespeare’s heroines. There’s something dark in her that resonates with you, the way when a pimple appears you have to squeeze it until it bleeds. You tell yourself that everybody has a morbid fascination. 

              Each night you take a torch, a book and a bottle of Merlot, and you wile away the hours reading in the woods. At home, sleep never came easy to you. You’d pace the floorboards counting sheep and wake having barely slept a blink. This, on the other hand, seems useful, though when you’re never asleep, you’re never quite awake, floating through the school day like a ghost, part removed, the dark circles pulling your eyes to a close. It’s a tiredness you carry in every aspect of your life, limbs heavier than usual, pen slower when it grazes the page. Soon you start taking tablets each night. Two white ones, no bigger than a baby’s fingernail. For the first time, you begin to dream.

              When February rolls around you take your exams. Pass with the grace of a swan in everything except AP Calculus. You say you’ll try again next semester, but you don’t. You apply for Yale, Cambridge, Harvard, Columbia, Ashcroft. You wait. And wait. And wait until it feels like your skin has shed itself since the letters left your hands, before an envelope comes marked Theresa. No one ever calls you that name. Right from the start it’s been Tea, Tess, Thea, common names in your house as fickle as the tide that swallows it. Billy’s never been a William, and Sebastian sounds all wrong. You can scarcely remember what Brodie’s short for. Rejection after rejection until Ashcroft answers the call, a cawing in the dark of a wasteland you’ve not yet walked. You’ll read literature, follow in the footsteps of Ginsberg who you clumsily try to quote as you bid the girls goodbye, a bonfire and the smell of cinnamon whiskey. 

iii. ashcroft university, edinburgh. 

              You’d read of a boy who went missing there. It happened in the woods. Seventy years and all they’d found was an emptied bottle of wine and one shoe. Newspapers claimed involvement in an elite society, perhaps a hazing gone wrong, and you imagine them burrowed in underground tunnels wearing wellington boots and tweed. This is what draws you to Ashcroft ; to Imperium. It’s not so much the mystery of it —you’ve never seen yourself as a Nancy Drew — but more the idea of living in a place where people can disappear. That’s always been an idle fantasy of yours. One day, you wonder if you’ll write yourself out of the world and into the pages of a book, nestled between a title and contents page.  

              From Concord to Boston, then a ten-hour flight ; for the first time in months, you sleep through the night. A line break cancels your train and you have to take a replacement bus service instead. By the time you reach the school, the open day is almost over. You feel it at the gates, like a tingle on the back of your neck, something crawling down your spine. It only grows as you close in on it. It feels like it knows your own heartbeat. You’ve never known a building to have so much soul. You imagine yourself walking the cobblestones on the quad each day, climbing the steps to a dormitory, sprawled on a library table, scribbling frantically, willing the clock hands backwards. It’s a life you want to lead.

              In a matter of months, Ashcroft has become not only your home but your life. You are utterly consumed by it. You meet Lysander at a poetry reading. You recite Shelley. He recites Keats. He compliments you on the steadiness of your voice, clear as a bell. A voice for the stage. You tell him your father had a powerful voice. It’s a lie. You’ve never had a father, but it’s fun to imagine one slouched on the couch, wire-rimmed glasses on the end of his nose. He invites you to dinner the following week. Grilled sea bass and risotto. You don’t have the heart to tell him you’ve become a vegetarian, swallow each mouthful with your pride. You try out for the orchestra, though your hands shake a little too much and you hear more from the inside of your own head than the keys. You leave without waiting on an answer. It’s too contained for you, anyway. You need something more chaotic, like jazz. You wish for chaos, so Imperium opens it jaws and swallows you whole. They like you because of your voice, a voice that speaks scarcely more than a low whisper in life, but when written wins you a Bysshe-Shelley Prize. In poetry, you give that voice to the voiceless ; bring dead girls buried in the woods out of the ground and into being, like soil in your hands. A voice like that is a powerful thing to have in your ranks. It becomes every page in your diary, every catch of your skirt on a tree branch, every rap of your fingertips against the desktop, imperium, imperium, imperium.

              You’ve never been able to do things by halves — you always let them consume you. One glass becomes a bottle. One paragraph becomes scrawling until sunrise. Obsession takes its form in Hamlet, strong in all the ways you appear weak. You like the smell of his breath when he tells you to stub out your cigarette. That’ll kill you one day, he says. I know, you reply, and your pretty lips curl upwards. One drunken night, you fall into his bed and imagine stitching yourself into his sheets so you can sleep with him every night. Tongues on your thighs like a voice in your throat. Touch me, touch me, touch me. Never been held like this before. Like you’re not glass, but something material and robust. You like the way his hands feel under your skin. Perhaps you’ll keep him there like a splinter. Tall for your age but thin as a rail, he makes you feel like more than an eel of a girl. You like the way he catches on your spindly elbows where others have snagged leaving trails of cotton. At first, it’s only physical, but you get greedy and want more. You’re not sure when a love of beauty became something more than skin deep. You’re not sure if you even loved him until he’d stopped loving you. In October, you find the body. The day all the clocks stop ticking. The day something inside of you snaps like the branch of an elm.

              You become a cocoon, velvet ribbons in your hair and rope around your throat. Or maybe it’s lace, and you’re only imagining it that way. You drink wine, stumble blind-drunk through the woods, lose textbooks to nature and curse when you can’t find them the following morning. Most nights, you appear like a ghost in the wood, a linen nightdress with mud clinging to it’s hem and feet laden in soil. You’re not sure if it’s conscious at this point, or mindless sleepwalking. Everything you do feels like sleepwalking these days. Shadows move in the corners of your eyes at night and you turn to the tarot cards for answers. They tell you only of that which you already know. Death. The Hanged Man. High Priestess. You think of Octavia, of Lysander, and of you pulled like a ragdoll between them, with the intuition that comes from living by the sea but without the evidence to execute it. The pills have stopped working. You wake in sweats, guilt swelling in the pit of your stomach. In a therapist’s waiting room, you watch as a girl scratches the skin off her own arm.

              Soon news of your occultist proclivities becomes gossip on everyone’s tongue. Witch becomes a synonym for your name, and one you’ll happily wear like a noose until you’ve stolen Lysander from the drop. Finding the truth becomes the only thing keeping you sane, runes scrawled on the walls of a dormitory where pages of novels are tacked up like wallpaper. And still, you can’t shake the fact that she hasn’t come to you when the others who scarcely believe in such phantomed are rattled by her ghost on a nightly basis. Competing and girlhood go hand in hand, but the longer it gets, the more it feels like she knows your desperation to absolve Lysander isn’t entirely selfless. Perhaps she saw you lingering in doorways, waiting in the wings for him to change his mind and tell you it was you all along. Or maybe the sight of her corpse is making you search for answers in places they don’t exist. You’re hanging on my a single thread, one glimpse away from fleeing to the woods to plant yourself into the earth.

              The snow is crisp on the November ground when you learn to love melancholy like a dance you were taught as a child. You think it adds depth to being a writer. How can a person write about pain if they live in a state of blissful oblivion? You tell yourself that all of the best writers were depressed; Plath, Fitzgerald, Dickinson, Rice. If you say their names each morning, followed by your own, perhaps you’ll become one of them. 

BULLET POINT SUMMARY.

here is a bullet point summary of theresa, as i understand my writing can get a little dense.

Mother always said that people who grow up near water are different to other people. That there’s something more primal in their bones. A kind of knowing.

In Theresa, the knowing is a kind of silence. She’s always struggled with verbal communication, and it’s rare that she can ever let herself go in a conversation. She’s the one on the outskirts of the group, only speaking up to deliver a poignant metaphor, before fading off again. On a good day she’ll ramble, perhaps, on morbid longings and fascinations, but it’s like she’s always skipping around words she can’t quite pinpoint. 

Writing’s different. When she’s writing, she feels like all the dead souls of Emily Bronte and Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath are all rising up from their graves to possess her. It is, perhaps, a rather egotistical thought -- but it makes her feel less alone. Like writing isn’t so much a solitary pursuit as it is a reigniting of what’s been lost, a way of listening to the dead. She’s militant in the way she writes, has been for as long as she can remember -- every night when the clock strikes twelve. Even if she’s rolling on mandy in an abandoned warehouse or dropping acid in a shipyard with her toes in the sand, she’ll start scribbling at twilight, for as long as she can. Back home, there weren’t too many bars that allowed underage kids, and the ones that did would nail your phone to the wall like you’re living in the eighties, so they made their own fun getting high in places long since infested with rats on baggies bought cheap in the back of the dry-cleaners shop.

Theresa’s always felt more able to relate to dead people than to living ones. That might sound depressing, but she doesn’t think so. Death has never been far from her. She grew up in the room of a foster sister who had died the previous winter. She lost her mother to a boating accident at twelve years old. She lost Octavia last year, found her body in the woods, and was thankful that she -- and not someone else -- had seen her crumpled like a fawn. Because even though it clings to her and burrows under her skin, she knows how to drown it out now. In words. In wine. In pills crushed against the veneer of a sink and snorted through a twenty-dollar bill. She’s getting good at losing herself completely. Theresa herself feels like a girl half-dead, like something ghostly, trapped between two planes. Which is why it hurts so much that she still hasn’t seen Octavia’s ghost. She’s supposed to be the special one. The one who’s vision isn’t clouded by idle dogmatism. The one who believes in all that fate, juju, third eye stuff that the others seem to scoff at. It feels like a personal attack. Like somehow, in keeping hidden, she’s blaming Theresa for her death.

Theresa is the month of November. There’s something mysterious about it, something cold. It’s on the cusp of the end of the year, but it doesn’t quite reach it. I feel like that’s what Theresa’s like. Always reaching for the apples that are just out of her grasp, or perhaps, reaching for apples which aren’t even there. 

She knows grief like an old friend, but somehow, she still doesn’t trust it. When she was twelve years old she lost one of her mothers. Annie was always the brighter of her parents, and Tessa never really believed that someone so full of life could just disappear. Her soul had to be somewhere. When Kath remarried, Theresa never forgave her. Between grief and anger, their relationship became fractious, and Kath decided to send her to boarding school. She went to a New England college where she learned art, history, literature, english, athletics, the sciences and the classics. Boarding school was probably the best decision for Theresa that Kath had ever made. She became fascinated with the girls around her, so feral and wild in their girlhood. She fell in love with another girl more than once. She fell in love with the freedom of New England, of being in the woods, of a gaggle of girls with bottles of wine sat around a campfire, scared half to death that the matron would find them.

But death’s never far from her. She’s been searching for Annie in the linebreaks between poems, in the chaos of clutter under her bed, under lace and linen in her underwear drawer, but somehow she can never quite find her and never give up.  Finding Annie was perhaps the reason she came to Ashcroft at all. She intended to go to Columbia, read Literature, and clumsily follow in the footsteps of Ginsberg. But Annie had spoken of Edinburgh with such a childlike awe.

Lysander was the first of the society she met, at a poetry reading in the autumn of her first semester. He brought her into the club because he saw something in her, an otherworldliness, a still but powerful voice. Her eyes saw more than they let on, always glinting at something more. She thinks her closeness with Lysander is the reason she still hasn’t seen Octavia’s ghost, and now Hamlet’s out of the picture she’s starting to think she might love Lysander. Or maybe she just needs to be loved by someone, and absolving him of blame is the key.

She was never really sure how she felt about Octavia. One moment they were friends, the next they were rivals. It was something like love and hate combined, but perhaps that’s just the curse of being a woman. A fierce sense of competition in everything you do, even if it’s just competing for air.

She likes old French music, European cinema, art that doesn’t come in her mother tongue. She’s always thought English pointless. The French say things so much better.

Her favourite TV show is Twin Peaks. She likes the absurdist truth in it, the style, the colour, the oddness. She likes the mystery of it all. She loved the woods in New England and it reminds her of that. A kind of home away from home. Tea brings a pocked dictaphone out with her, for she’s so often absent-minded that she misses half the day. That way, she can replay conversations, the sound of a bird in flight, the particular inflection in the voice of someone she loves. She’s obsessive when it comes to lovers. She doesn’t want to be loved -- she wants to be respected, understood, devoured. She thinks love is a kind of mutual lying.

She finds truth in the unusual. In tarot cards and horoscopes, in the position of the planets through a thrifted telescope. She’s a night owl, never in bed before 3 or 4 in the morning. She visits the woods each night to write until her fingers ache. Sometimes with wine, sometimes with mushrooms, sometimes with a tab against the flat of her tongue, imagining herself to be Alice in Wonderland. She feels like she’s getting close to the truth, but maybe she’s just closer to losing her mind.

LETTER TO OCTAVIA.

My dearest O,

I wish I could find an adequate way to write you an epitaph. You saw a poet where everyone else saw a foolish dreamer and yet you’re the only one I can’t put into words. But in truth, there is no word large enough to contain you. You were the ellipsis I was always looking to conclude, and it’s so like you to steal even that from me. Some days, I think I could love you.  

Please know that death cannot touch girls like us. That you’re more than just skin, teeth and bone. Death itself has you only on a short-term loan. As Thomas puts so eloquently, Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Thank you for filling me with life. I’ll see you in the next one.

Tea.

anything else?

mock blog.

 pinterest 

wanted plots.

someone who theresa knows purely from seeing them at the library. recently, she hasn’t been visiting as often. she’s less in the world and more in her head. her schoolwork is suffering. someone who feels this absence like a missing tooth.

unlikely bc ashcroft is in scotland but if they’re from rhode island maybe distant relatives.... ophelia / theresa is adopted so could work regardless of heritage. her family lived in narragansett, but she went to boarding school in vermont. could have met if ur character is new england based??? maybe

give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl

people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties bcos this baby is not alright. she drinks at least one glass of wine every night. sometimes a bottle. she’s always a little bit high or a little bit weary with a comedown. she can’t seem to keep her feet on the ground.

theresa was pretty numb after finding the body, as you would be. she stayed in her room listening to enya for three days straight and just eating cereal straight out the box. then thalia broke up with her and that fuckin shook her too, and now she just thinks she’s unlovable. she’s always been pretty bad at sleeping but now she just wanders about in her white nightdress looking for a door with light spilling beneath it so that maybe she can find someone who’ll hold her for the night and make her feel like she’s still alive

she’s currently hooking up with a lot of people. a lot of very detached sex, so if she has any sort of close connection with your character this might not work. could be good for angst or awkwardness though, or she cld get like.... super attached after a one night stand and complicate the shit out of everything. theresa’s kind of obsessive when it comes to her affections, she loves with her whole heart or not at all

people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life jesus 

honestly everything just give me all the plots

[newamericanaroleplay]

“TO BE YOURSELF IN A WORLD THAT IS CONSTANTLY TRYING TO MAKE YOU SOMETHING ELSE IS THE GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT.”

N A M E  → Stella Lauren Kennedy

S T A T U S  → ★★★

A G E  → 24

PRONOUNS  → she / her

N E I G H B O R H O O D  → Hell’s Kitchen

O C C U P A T I O N  → Socialite / singer

TRIGGERS: N/A

P A S T  →

On July 22nd, 1995 a baby girl was born. She looked ordinary but would go on to live an extraordinary life simple because of who she is related to. Being born into one of the most notorious families in America came with much privilege. And yet, Stella felt like she lived in chains. She went where she was told to go. She did as she was told to do. She was who she was told to be. A good girl. Smart. Kind. Charitable. And it wasn’t that Stella didn’t like being all of those good things, but that she felt like they were all she could be. For all she was worth, the weight of her value with the world seemed to rest solely in her last name; Kennedy.

In her early teens, Stella pushed her parents to allow her to pursue her passion; music. She’d been taking piano and chorus practically her whole life, but Stella wanted to make music of her own. Stella wanted to be a real, recording artist. This wasn’t the dream her politician parents had in mind for their youngest daughter, but eventually they gave in. Of course, the allowance came with a million conditions. Stella never wrote any of her own music and only recorded what her parents and the producer they’d hired approved of. She wasn’t exactly happy, but it was the only outlet she had. Moderate success followed her mainstream, pop sound, and Stella went on to study music at Berklee College of Music.

During undergrad, Stella Lauren was born. After years of repressing her creativity to fit the mold that others had made for her, Stella began working on her own album. A record titled in ode to her new self. Her true self. She didn’t expect her parents to understand, but they actually gave their youngest daughter a lot of support as she ventured out into the world on her own. They were proud of her strength and vision for a unique life.

P R E S E N T  →

Stella knew she didn’t want to stay in Boston post grad, and couldn’t help the allure of the big and bright New York City. After finding a spot in a building in Hell’s Kitchen close to some old friends, Stella moved to New York to continue work on her upcoming album and garner further exposure with her rebranded self. It hasn’t been the easiest adjustment with backlash from the tabloids and online about her drastic change in sound, but she’s happier than ever with the opportunity to gain new experiences and really get to know herself.

P E R S O N A L I T Y  →

+ Genuine, Honest, Creative, Sweet

- Insecure, Credulous, Impressionable, Sensitive

STELLA KENNEDY ( Dove Cameron ) is written by NIC ( she /her → GMT+5 )

[nxtgenpunk-blog]

Rebranding: the first step of independence

Pronouns: he/him

So I did something today that I thought I wouldn’t do before I turned 18, but I have! I rebranded on twitter! So a little backstory. A few years ago, I came up with a name that I wanted to go by online! But because of stupid levels of social anxiety, I didn’t make my first social media account until earlier this year. And I used the name I came up with from a few years ago. I’m not going to say what that name is because I still use it on some of my social media profiles and I have pictures of my face on there. I also didn’t fully know that I was genderfluid so I chose quite a feminine name.

So I had this name on Instagram and Twitter and after about a month of having the name, I started to not like it anymore. And then I figured out that the feeling of my gender changing almost every day wasn’t just me wanting to dress and act a different way some days, but was actually a gender identity and that other people out there felt the same as me! So then I came up with genderfluidpunk, with help from my amazing partner of course (lovelockloki)! 

And then, this blog was born.

So now I had made a blog, which was something I wanted to do for a few years, and I had a username that I liked more than my old one. I ended up talking to my friends about changing my name and I even made a Pinterest with the same name as this blog. And so today, I bit the bullet and made a new twitter account with a username I was happy with. And my partner changed their account name to something that they’ve been wanting to change it to for a while too!

But that got me thinking, why is just changing an online username so important to us nowadays? Why do people get stuck with the same one for years and the moment they change it, people assume that everything is going to be different? From a perspective of someone who isn’t out about their gender, from personal experience (and the internet), it’s a way to be yourself without being scared that you’ll not be accepted or worse in some peoples case. It’s a way to have the world see you as you want it to. And it’s a way to possibly find other people who identify like you or can relate to you.

And for me, it’s a way of being able to be called the pronouns I identify with the most that day! It’s kind of freeing in a way. Like you’ve started being who you are on the inside even if you can’t at that particular moment on the outside. And even though, my family is pretty accepting when it comes to that kind of shit, I’m still scared. And that is 100% okay! I’ve known my sexuality for almost two full years now, and I’ve only come out to one person in my family. And that was in June!

But now, I’ve got to ask what you guys think! Do you think changing your online username is/should be a big deal? Or do you think that it should be more of a normal thing that people shouldn’t freak out over? Also, do you change your username after thinking about it for a while? Or are the type of person who changed their username all the time and has a ton of different accounts? Let me know!

And remember, your gender might change every day, but punk is forever (I kind of like it)! Also if you want to follow me on twitter, click here!

[glitchrpgmain]

congratulations LASH! you have been accepted into underworldfm. please welcome JON DUVAL. RAMI MALEK is now taken. please submit your blog within the next 24 hours & be sure to follow the guidelines outlined in our checklist.

ic.

Character: NONE

Occupation: Jon was an up and coming guitarist in a band called Rad Wolf. 1987 left that band in shattered pieces when the frontman guitarist and vocalist became a shell of his old self. He had to give up his dream to deal with his curse. Eventually when he was just a washed up,  forgotten has been; Jon returned to the music store where he started out. The owner was childless and dying and just signed it over to Jon. He rebranded it as The Rad Wolf and he sells guitars and vintage records. No one even remembers the one hit wonder band from the 80s.

Species: Lycan

Faction: Neutral

Name: Jon Aubrey Deval

gender & pronouns: cis man he/him

Faceclaim: Rami Malek

Age: 50

BIO.

It was 1970, Woodstock was in 1969 and the two events were very much related. Parents, unmarried together and living out of an oversized van when you arrived. Before your first breath, you were a mistake. It hurt you deeper  than anyone would realize. As a child, you saw how fathers doted on their sons, shaped them into men. You were a teenager still waiting for the mold you could form yourself to.

It didn’t surprise you when your mother left without you, she wasn’t capable of affection toward a failure like you. It put you under the care of a man who only ever knew to express his authority, cramming it down your throat until you felt like it was suffocating you. The worst part was how you tried to be good and you tried to please. Nothing  was ever good enough to win his affection so you stopped trying.

That hopeless abandon of your duty as a son bled into your high school years. You learned to break rules like your father broke beer bottles on walls. Every thin line crossed brought you something you had never had, attention. Though, that attention was spurned from anger and isolation, it was still punishable and rightly so. You faced Expulsion but the 1980s opened a new sense of self to you. The rebel yell that brought everyone’s eyes toward you, was also forcing your father to face the product of his own desertion. Just when they chucked it up to a lost cause, you found music. Her name was Mrs. Deval, music teacher at the high school where you were serving your latest detention. She sensed a gift in you and put a guitar in your hands. Then everyone’s eyes were on you for an entirely new and improved reason.

You never knew you could sing because life was choking it out of you. You never knew you could play because life had your hands tied. It only took one act of compassion and kindness to free you of the burdens that held you down. You left home as soon as you could, tires burning rubber and spinning gravel. In the front seat of that mustang sat a cherry red guitar. You were determined to make it to the big time. Like all the rockers you idolized, you plotted a way to make your name one to remember.

You left Bethel, New York and lost yourself in the city of 1988. New York City was reeling with record breaking homicides and drug use. You tried to refrain from the frivolity of it all, performing here and there under the name Jon Aubrey, forming a band called Rad Wolf. Little fish in a big pond and yet it felt like you were on top of the world when you signed your first guitar at a meet and greet in a music store in Brooklyn.

You made a few friends along the rungs of the ladder you were climbing to the top of, but the party life got the best of you. You were spiralling out of control and in your mind, you were already immortalizing yourself in the world of rock.

One night you were simply pissing in an ally after a gig when you noticed a person losing it in the shadows. To you they were coming down, going up, or just tweaking out. You could relate to that. When they turned on you like night of the living dead, that scared you. A glorious immortality vanished as your life passed quickly before your eyes. You were bleeding out in the ally when emergency responders carried you away. It was almost like you were floating, pain was the only reality you had to ground you down.

You decided to straighten up your life to an extent. No more drugs, you were going to focus on a career that was ahead of you. But no amount of “Scared Straight” attitude could stop the nightmares from jarring you from sleep; growling, howling, and the grinding of your bones under the full moon. The first time left you begging for death.

The unexpected visitor at your door, armed with an explanation on your affliction,so young and innocent looking. You slammed the door in their face when you saw the same eyes you saw that night in the ally. They didn’t stop coming to you, pestering you to join a pack, there were others like you. You refused over and over again. Resentment tethered to your wounds like an  internal parasite. It was much like the monster that lived in your veins, sucking the life out of your hopes and dreams.

You had a life, a career, music; but it all turned sour. Anger replaced the determination to succeed and it held you back. The only good thing that remained in your life was music, and that was now threatened by the beast you had become.

You went from playing every weekend to scheduling events around the cycle of the moon. When the moon got bigger, your anger swelled. Anger did not mix with alcohol and guitars, but you found that out the hard way.

The career you built from scratch was gone,  a pipe dream and a source of deep seated resentment for every lycan who dared reach out to you. You  would bite the hand that fed every time.

Now, fifty years later, you stand behind the counter of a record store that carries the name of the band you fronted in the 80s. That time is long gone, you should be dead by now, or you think you’d be. With the style of life you piloted, there was only one way to go.

And maybe that is the softness that now seeps into your rage. Immortality, an endless opportunity to redo the various levels of your life and make it better. Redemption is what you are after but Your anger, a shadow of what it once was fifty years ago, still binds you and keeps you from walking into the safety of a pack. You are content to remain distant, fearing the eyes you still can’t wipe from your dreams and yet longing to find solace with the struggles you have faced. The best way to describe the conflict inside, torn in two opposing directions and too afraid to confront the skeletons in your closet.

So you search for redemption in the realm of mortality; volunteering at a rec center teaching music and donating your time to repairing and refurbishing music equipment. It makes good karma, and your business has made a comeback. You still sell old records in a vintage setting, stuck in the 80s eternally, but you lack the control and composure of lycans your age. You struggle with the moon, wrestle with her whims as she forces you to become the beast you have grown to love. You thought you could learn, but it's hard and you are impatient. Plus, there are vampires. A fact you really didn’t come to know until the more recent years. You need a family, but you don’t want a pack and you are running out of options.

[mcyt-factives]

hi! do you have a couple names for a transfem cc!schlatt ? /nf

of course!!! -wil

sadie

hazel

mae

wren

talia

mila

[cuidabeja]

Rules: answer 67 truths and tag 25 people I was tagged by myboy @squidiosyncrasies, dankeschoen

🍒LAST🍒 1. Drink - Chai latte 2. Phone Call - I had to tell my boss where I volunteer that I was going to be late because of work work 3. Text Message - “Did it go ok today? Are you ok?” 4. Song You Listened To - it was a while ago, lemme check . . . Oh Jeez it was “This Way That” from Mario Party 2? 5. Time I Cried - I think it was when we were in New Mexico, I started crying when I was trying to sleep but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. It seems I never cry when I have a clear reason to

🍒HAVE YOU EVER🍒 6. Dated Someone Twice - Not really possible but also no 7. Been Cheated On - No 8. Kissed Someone And Regretted It - I want to say no but yes but also no 9. Lost Someone Special - Yeah, but I never knew him. 10. Been Depressed - I’m not sure. Maybe last spring but there was a lot that could be 11. Been Drunk And Thrown Up - No. I’ve had opportunities to, but I just can’t palate the stuff

🍒IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU🍒 12. Made A New Friend - Even in the last few weeks 13. Fallen Out Of Love - yes 14. Laughed Until You Cried - I do this monthly, though recently there was a particularly good one 15. Met Someone Who Changed You - Probably 16. Found Out Who Your True Friends Were - I feel like this is about betrayal? No 17. Found Out Someone Was Talking About You - see this is high drama and I don’t do that

🍒GENERAL🍒 18. How Many People On Tumblr Do You Know In Real Life - Uhhhhhhhhh . . . I can think of like six off the tippy top of my head but I know it’s more than that 19. Do You Have Any Pets - Cat, two dogs, blind deaf dumb old man/professional dirtbag, a bunch of very very old chickens, and many bees 20. Do You Want To Change Your Name - Yeah I had a good effort going back in November what with me sharing a name with our garbage president and all, but I just can’t rebrand like that 21. What Time Did You Wake Up This Morning - 3:15, because I had work at 4 AM  22. What Were You Doing Last Night - cuddling my bifriend 23. Name Something You Cannot Wait For - I can only think of one thing and it’s not something I’d like to publicly state 24. Have You Ever Talked To A Person Named Tom - You mean my uncle? yes 25. What’s Getting On Your Nerves Right Now - I’m very conflicted about work, because it’s great and I like it but also I need a nap. It’ll be better after a good night’s sleep 26. Blood Type - AB+ if I recall 27. Nickname - Don, a guy at work calls me Donnie because there’s a different guy named Donnie and he likes to mess with me . . . . “Gay Nerd” 28. Relationship Status - Living in a powderkeg and giving off sparks 29. Zodiac Sign - Taurus 30. Pronouns - He/him 31. Favorite TV Show - I wanna default to saying Star Trek Voyager, but I also want to say Stargate SG1 because it’s been so long 32. College - College 33. Hair Color - Dark Brown 34. Do You Have A Crush On someone - outside of my boyfriend, I don’t think so? Maybe. Even if I did I’m not ready for something else and also it’d be weird dating a dude I work with 35. What Do You Like About Yourself - I know what I like and I make myself laugh using the garbage I collect on the internet

🍒FIRSTS🍒 36. Surgery - I think I had my adenoids out as my first 37. Piercing - none 38. Sport You Played - Soccer, back in my kiddo days. I hated it 39. Vacation - I think a family reunion when I was like three. The first I remember was uhhhhhhhhhhhhh Mexico in Kindergarten?

🍒CURRENTLY🍒 40. Eating - no, but I’m hungrier than I wanna be 41. Drinking - no, but I’m thirstier than I wanna be 42. I’m About To - Gosh by my previous answers I should go eat and drink but I’m gonna sleep instead 43. Listening To - I have a shitty song stuck in my head that plays at Big Lots and I hate their whole music playlist and it’s far too short for a place where 8 hour shifts aren’t unusual 44. Want Kids - I really do want kids, not only that but I want kids that are related to me. No I don’t know why but I’ve checked this with myself a number of times and it’s what I want. Not any time soon though, I wanna be ready. 45. Want To Get Married - While I want marriage to not be anywhere close to a norm, I have to put yes because there are major tax incentives in america 46. Career - I wanna teach High School Biology

🍒WHICH IS BETTER🍒 47. Lips or Eyes - Eyes are amazing to look at, but I’d much rather feel someone’s lips 48. Hugs or Kisses - if we’re talking about like a front to front, by the book hug, then my answer is kisses. If Hugs is being used as a catch-all that will include cuddles, then HUGS 49. Shorter or Taller - People taller than me tend to make me nervous, because I’m not used to them existing 50. Older or Younger - It’s about even given my pool of previous crushes, with a skew towards older 51. Romantic or Spontaneous - I’m not sure what is being asked, but I think romantic? 52. Sensitive or Loud - Sensitive 53. Hook Up or Relationship - Relationship 54. Troublemaker or Hesitant - Hesitant

🍒HAVE YOU EVER🍒 55. Kissed A Stranger - I’ve kissed two people in my life, and I am/was close to both of them. Oh also another in a game of Truth or Dare back in Freshman year, but that doesn’t count, does it? Oh and there’s another Tumblr person I know in real life 56. Drank Hard Liquor - I tried like half a sip of Fireball Whiskey and no thank you 57. Lost Glasses/Contacts - I wear neither 58. Sex On First Date - No, and I find it hard to see myself as that type of person 59. Broken Someone’s Heart - I’m kinda afraid that I did oops 60. Been Arrested - No, but I had a funny incident with some private security folks a couple weeks ago 61. Turned Someone Down - No. Either people haven’t had crushes on me, gender roles/heteronormativity have prevented people from asking, or people find me intimidating (I don’t know which. My mind wants to say the first, but given how many people there are in this world, I’m gonna go with the other two) 62. Fallen For A Friend - “Wow I wish I was better friends with Brian”  “Wow I wish I was better friends with Caleb”  “Wow I wish I was better friends with Cullen” et cetera and then like three years later it turns out I was bi and I’ve had crushes on mend for like ever woops Also shoutout to my boyfriend oops strikes again  

🍒DO YOU BELIEVE IN🍒 63. Yourself - Unsure 64. Miracles - like real proper miracles? no 65. Love At First Sight - no, but it’s funny because I think people can have funny connections at first sight. The other day I worked with this woman for the first time and we kept giving each other looks and eventually she was like “Ok do we know each other or something because I feel like we’ve met” No I don’t know her but I had that same feel. It’s weird. She reminds me of a friend of mine. 66. Heaven -  O̯̩̯̽̇͆O̺̮͙̦̬ͥ͑̌ͅH̰̥̩̬̹̳ͪ,̪͖̫̜̟̺̺̎̋̀̑̓̇ͩ ̩͕̞ͨ̍̓ͅB̮̒̿ͮ͂ͭ̿Á̹̰͖̌B̪̺͉͚̠̄͑̂͌Ẏ̞̼̦ͫ̔̇̉̂,̟̹ ͚̟͕̗̼͚͍̍͐͊̓͋D̼̲̠̪̖̼ͬǑ̟͚͒ͯ͛ ̤͇̻̝͒ͣŸ̙̬͚́͗͆̂͌́̾Ö̰́̀͗̾̔ͣȔ̅ͫ̐͊̌ ̩̼̪͍͗ͮ̈K̠̹ͨ̈́N̥͇͔͙̩̄͗͐̅͆̿ͅO̳͍̤̭͕̺ͥ̐̀̔̓W̤̪̖̜͗͌̄̇̆̓ͤ ̼̘̱T͍̲̭̽ͩ̀̌̋͐H̦̫ͪͦẢ̬͔̝̞̗̼̔̈́̋́̚̚T̠ͨ'̭͓̼̓̓̅̽ͪ̎S̫̻̜̯̻ͩ̇͋ͭ͌ ͈̬W̼̆͗ͅO̥̲͖̟͈̳RŤ͍̩̏ͪH̠̰̊͛̒̿?͙̼ ͖͎̟͓͉̘͐ͮ͛O͎͙̤͓͓͈ͯͨ̌̈́̀ͪͣỌ͚͓ͅH̾,̗̭̻͍̋ ̳H̺͖͙͉̙͙ͩ̀̏E͍̠͈̗̻̹͇ͣ͗̌Ȁ̼ͧ̆ͮ̚V̜̳̆͆E̩͍̲̻Ṋ̱̲̖͆̃ ̥̬̤͔̒̽ͨ̅̊̇͐I̪̭ͤ̂S ̪̭̳̯̱͎̰̄A̗̭̤̗ͨ ̫̙̲̆̃̏̚ͅP̠ͬ̏̓ͩͦ̓L̝̱͔̱͕̤̣̃̐ͭͦ̿A̟̭ͦ́̎͂ͮC̘̦̓ͭ͛̈ͤ̄E͚̺͍̜͙ ̱̱̽͗ͧ͛ͨȎ̘̰̺͎̱ͧ̾ͬͅN̗̥̯̗ͯ ̣̖̮͈̥̥̬̑E̦͈̙̤͊Aͤ̇͒̒ͬ̆̉R͓̞̀̆̑T͂͌̓H̥͙̫͋ͮ̽̉ ̼͚̟̥̳̓̽ͥT͍́̄H͍̲̣̖͓͛͋ͫ͆͛͒E̮̠̽͋ͧY̭̻̖̠͖̊̆͛ ̻̬͓͕͈͓̼̂͋̓SA͎̜̯̤̐Y̰͖͓̮̫͊̀̿̊ͤ͗ ̼͈ͨͣ̈́ͬ̏I̲N̘̘̥̥ͬ̄ ̚Ḧ̘ͥ̄̊͑̀E̼͙͙A̜͍̙̯̰̝ͮ̏ͩͤV͉͇̞̫̦͋͒̽̐ͬ̄̈́E̝̞̳ͦͥN̳̦,̠̫͓͖̤̫ ̹̳͇̖͕̠̾ͪ̿ͅL̺̗̰ͩ͑ͫ͌ͪ͂̚O͕̤̩̰̫̪̪͐̅̈́ͥ̅̑̀V̹̱̞̠͙ͤ́ͥͫE͈͕͂ ͚̩͇̜̪̃͂͛ͣ̎̌͑C̬̜͓̝̗ͯͦO͈̫̬ͤ̐͒̅ͅM̬͙̟͉̝͊ͅE͎̗̬͉̙̼̭Ș͚̜̱̥̣̣ ͖͕̘͓͖͖̅͗ͤ̎̓̚ͅF̭̺̰̘̥̳͗̏̎͗̚I̞̺̝̳̾̒̇̍͆ṚS̘̺̥̆ͅT̗͙̈́ ͎̪ͤ̏̉̆̈́ͭW͇̫̺̮̞̝̤ͪͫẸ̩̳̙̺̺͂̓ͦͨ͆'̎͒̂ͮͅL̖̔̌ͬL̺ͯ̀ ̪͖̿̃͛ͧM̙̯̰͕̟ͬ͗͂̈̏͌̀Ḁ̠̽͒ͬ̓̈̊̚K͌̌͋E̻̦͛͌ͦ́̚ ̠̫̯̺͚͇̂ͨͤͪ̓ͯH̠̹̙̮̩̳̟ͥ̐̆̂̎͛E̖̮͋͆A̤͉ͥV͒̋ͦͪͨ̏̆Ȅͪ̅ͤ͐Ń̼͈̣͔̫͕ ͔̠̩̰̤̻̄̾͆ͤ̇͑A̻̮͈̰̩ͣͪͮ̑ͨ ̜͓͉̹͚͍P̩̾ͭL̥A̤͒̏ͨC̖̯͇͐͒̊̀Ĕ̖͎̪͖ͦ̓̒̍́ ̗͙̤͍̦̯̲ͨͭ̎͗̓ͥO̯̻͚̫̻̾̃N̏̓̌ ̠̘̔̅E͓̣̥͛̎̾̐̑A͓̬̥͈̣͇̱R̳̳͓̹̱̾ͥ͗̄͑ͤ̊T͎̺͔̱̪̫ͬ̌ͪ̽ͣ̽H͆̉ͭͪ ̱͍̩̯̜͖ 67. Santa Claus - no

I’m just gonna tag some people I want to see this really, those being @gay-leon, @kippyan, @trapped-in-homestuck-hell, and @sunshine-zenith

[otterysaintcatchpole]

okay so I've thought extensively over what it would be like to transition from female to male over the past four years. except, even a name change seems like so much hassle because I've already started to brand myself as a professional director with my birth name. I get this wonderful feeling when people 'misgender' me as a boy and whenever I write self-inspired characters, they're always guys. but I'm also sort of okay with myself as I am... I'd just be more comfortable as a guy. advice?

Hi love :) first of all, I totally get where you’re coming from. You don’t have to experience severe dysphoria to want to transition, and especially if you’ve been thinking about it for a while, it’s probably something you should look into! It’s your life and honestly, you should do what makes you happy, not just "avoid what makes you miserable." You don't have to hate yourself to want to change yourself!

My advice is to find a close friend or coworker who you trust and spend a lot of time with and have them switch pronouns with you for a while to see what it would feel like. Give a different name at coffeeshops, play around with presenting masculinely, see if it’s something you like the feeling of. If you decide you want to start to transition, take it slow! One person at a time! Do research, teach yourself, and I’m always here for advice.

As for rebranding yourself: I get that so much. One of the reasons I never changed my name is because “Izzy” is fairly gender neutral but also because I’m not uncomfortable with it, so it seems like a hassle to change to something I’m technically more comfortable with. You don’t have to change your name in the professional world right away, or even at all if you’re comfortable, but it doesn’t take too long for people to adjust! Especially in directing- there’s a lot of constant communication in the arts, it’ll be okay :)

Thanks dear, message me if you ever have more questions!

[theexperiment-hq-blog]

Barbara Gordon / Oracle, played by Hobie

OOC Info

Name: Hobie

Age: 23

Pronouns: She/Her

Triggers: (redacted)

Second Choice Character: N/A

Discord: (redacted)

IC Info

Muse Name and Alias: Barbara Gordon, Oracle (formerly Batgirl)

What is your primary canon(s) for this character?: Comics, Arkham Origins for pre-Batgirl backstory

Approximate Age: 27

OTPs, BroTPs, NoTPs: 

OTP: Oracle/Riddler

BroTP: Babs/Dick, Babs/Dinah

Give us a bulletpoint outline for what your character’s history might look like:

Born and raised in Gotham City as the daughter of police officer (eventually turned commissioner) James Gordon, Barbara is no stranger to the notion of crime and corruption. And, as she enters her teens, superheroes. She grows up surrounded by the city’s law enforcement and familiarizes herself intimately with the GCPD’s servers and inner workings. Meanwhile, her academic pursuits and photographic memory earn her a diploma at age sixteen alongside a scholarship to Gotham University; she becomes one of the youngest student graduates with honors.

Despite her desire to make something of herself, her father refuses her interest in the police academy, and the FBI turns her away on technical citations. So, at age sixteen she takes matters into her own hands – forges her own cape and cowl and takes on Gotham City as the first incarnation of the Batgirl mantle. Not only does she prove formidable against Gotham’s worst, she even eventually wins Batman’s good graces. And it feels good.

And then, one day, there’s a knock on the door. A bullet from the Joker himself, intended to take down Gotham City’s police commissioner, ironically finds itself imbedded in an even more appropriate victim. At age nineteen, her superhero career is cut tragically short by a bullet to her spine that renders her paralyzed from the waist down. For life. Over the next year, Babs struggles with depression. It’s only when she’s finally has enough of her own crippling behavior that she decides it’s time to turn over a new leaf. There has to be more to crime-fighting than just kicking ass, after all.

With backing from Bruce Wayne, Barbara moves into her own apartment. She uses her once-recreational computer smarts and WayneTech supplies to build her own supercomputer from the ground up. By the end of the project, she’s set up with one of the world’s most powerful and complex computers. Babs then sets about gathering a database of information – collecting research, reading daily newspapers, siphoning data from agencies worldwide and compiling it into an independent system of her own. By age twenty-two, she takes on the identity of Oracle, and she dives back into the world of crime-fighting head-first.

Since then, she’s done a decent amount to build herself up – both founding and heading the Birds of Prey, for instance. Her wealth of information has grown immensely, her influence no longer confined to just Gotham. Babs no longer sees her disability as any hindrance whatsoever toward her goals and her methods. She’s nowhere near done.

Interview

What would it take for you to switch sides?

A momentary frown crosses Babs’ expression. It’s easy to take this sort of question lightly, brush it off as hypothetical and so improbable that why ought it be addressed in the first place? But anything’s technically possible, and boundaries are better set than abandoned. She hums. The frown has vanished, replaced with a subtle smile. “I suppose, if my goals were to align just so. I doubt that would ever happen, though.” She can’t necessarily act the saint, anyway; not when, technically, she breaks laws to access databases and files every day. “If it came down to it I’d do what I thought was right, regardless of what category it puts me in.”

How would you describe yourself? How would your friends describe you? How would the public describe you?

“You’d probably hear the word ‘attitude’ at least once,” she offers without hesitation, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, “I’ve got a bit of a sarcastic sense of humor. Just lights up the room.” Self-reflection isn’t meant to be an easy task, but Babs gives it her best. “Independent – particularly given my set of wheels. I’m pretty confident.” She’d had to learn that particular skill the long and hard way. “I don’t give up. Ask anyone else, though, and they’d probably try and tell you it makes me a bit… Cocky.” A small, uncomfortable pause. “I’ve taken things into my own hands that ought to not to be left to a single person. I don’t always know what’s best.” Another pause, this time less tense. She’s changing the subject. “I guess I’m the outgoing type, though – been to too many big parties thrown by rich guys not to be. And I know how to throw a mean girls’ night in.”

If you could gain any superpower/swap your superpower for another, what would it be and why?

“I’d have told you, once,” she comments dismissively, “that I’d give anyone anything – almost anything – to walk again. But I learned years ago that you don’t need legs to do something useful with yourself.” Maybe not a superpower, technically. But once upon a time, it might as well have been.

“I think,” Babs muses, pressing on, “that I like being able to do as much as I do, just as another regular human being. Powers don’t have to mean anything; it’s inspiring to know so many 'superheroes’ that can do it all on their own merit. I mean, Batman’s a pretty big deal.” She offers a smile.

“Guessing I have to pick something, though, right?” For a moment, she considers the ability to conjure coffee out of thin air – that’d probably be a life-saver. Or telepathy. Then again, that’d make her job a hell of a lot less interesting. “Maybe some kind of technopathy. It’d be a lot easier to figure out which of a thousand wires is causing a screen to flicker, you know what I mean?”

What is a secret you have never told someone?

Okay, so there were a few options. The question was probably intended to dredge up something personal, or scandalous. Babs wonders, thoughtfully, if she has anything like that to tease at in the first place. She’s a fairly open person to begin with, in the long-term. Maybe something smaller, then.

“Back when I was a kid, preteens,” she begins, “I used to follow my dad into work after school and over weekends. Their computers were a lot better than my old desktop.” God, she hasn’t thought about this for years. “People generally left me alone, but one of the guys on the cybercrimes team would actually talk to me like I wasn’t ten or an idiot. He was definitely older than me, and textbook nerd. You almost got secondhard embarrassment.” A pause, a sheepish little smile. “Not that it stopped me from getting a bit of a crush on him. It doesn’t matter anymore, obviously. But I don’t think I ever ended up spilling the beans on it.”

If there was one choice in your past you could change, what would it be?

A choice? Like, what, deciding to check the door when it rang in the afternoon?

No. probably something a bit better than that. Something more interesting, at least.

“I’m not the type to regret my decisions, usually.” She’s thinking aloud, racking her mind. Small things, sure. And there’s been times where she’s made decisions that have compromised her field team, she’s taken more than one deserved smack from Dinah for things she’s done as team leader. But they’re things she’s generally learned from, instances where everything ended up without too much collateral. There had to be something more substantial than that.

“Maybe…” It hadn’t really been a choice, though. It had been coping. Her best attempt at it. It took me a long time to get past… The Joker, and my legs. To move on with my life. I suppose I regret wallowing for so long. There was a lot of agonizing, a lot of self-confidence lost, that didn’t do anything for me. Then again, I’m not so sure I could have bounced back any faster than I had; I was lucky I came back at all, that I rebranded myself. I have a lot of support to thank for that.“ Babs inhales a little sharply, fixes her gaze somewhere off in the distance. "Still. It was a lot of energy wasted on pain.”

If you had one day where you could do anything you want, free of consequences, what would you do?

She goes with the first thing that crosses her mind. A mischevious grin, like she was a damn high schooler again sneaking out of the house in a homemade bat costume. “I’d love a night on the town – with my girlfriends, maybe Dick, a couple others. No crime. You have no idea how stifling the superhero gig can start to feel/ It’s hard to have too much fun when you’ve got a twenty-four hour job and a secret identity; it’d be like a little vacation.” A pause. “Or, if you’re ambitious, a big one.”

[fuckyeahrp]

RP Rules

Ripping this almost line for line off of a new, much more prepared RPer mate of mine: https://reportsduemonday.tumblr.com/ CloveeD, you’re probably the only person that will see this for the foreseeable future, ahaha, but I suppose I could use this as a base for any serious RP I have in the future so it’s a brilliant thing to make! Gosh if you ever have the time, I’d love to talk to you about how to make a well thought out RP blog like yours @_@

Roleplaying Information 

Name: Alex 

Pronouns: She/Her, He/Him (given to fluctuation, as such I’m fine with anyone using They/Them for simplicity sake when I haven’t otherwise specified a desire for folks to exclusively use of either He/Him or She/Her pronouns when referring to me.)  

Fandom Activities: I roleplay and write fanfiction more than anything else (the later I need to get back into tbh) but also draw (need to start posting fan art) 

I’m open to collabs, never really done that tho? Message me! I don’t bite. Hard. 

Main Blog: I would only feel inclined to share this if asked by a fellow RP mate that I’ve been writing with for a while already and trust with a more personal connection. If this is somehow an issue, message me and we can work it out. 

Art Blog: pending 

AO3: pending rebranding 

Fandom Blog: Fuck Yeah I Ship It (not exclusive to Stucky, that’s just the majority of what I’ve recently posted…)

(I’ve honestly just finished a major life milestone that kept me from drawing and writing much, so I have to get back into the swing of producing my own creative content as opposed to just lazily reblogging shit off mobile) 

Rules

I prefer roleplaying using email (again, message me) or this blog. I tend to find folks (when I seek out RPing) off Omegle, probably because I haven’t yet discovered a more reliable website (if there is something like Omegle out there for folks wanting to RP that isn’t a group chat then I’m happy to hear suggestions). 

I almost exclusively write in 3rd person with the exception of italicized internal thoughts where necessary or characteristic of the RP/character. Past or present tense, but hopefully just one tense throughout the life of the specific RP.  1-3 paragraph responses given I have enough inspiration or intent to build off of and or responses aren’t just simple back and forth dialogue. 

I may drop an RP thread if any of the following occurs

- I feel as though there is no plot development or hope for advancement in the story/world created 

- I feel as though I am carrying the story or simply matching short, un-involved or uninspired responses 

- There are chronic, long delays between responses (mitigated usually only by really interesting plots and long replies. Of course I understand that life happens, you can’t reply for a day or two, but if I’m getting one response every three days for the rest of the RP then I’m going to lose momentum and interest. Much of what motivates me to keep RPing is my excitement over your responses, development of character and plot. If you’ve hooked me on one of those fronts then I’ll reply more frequently and with longer posts)

- One or more of my hard-no’s is utilized in story without prior discussion. 

- There is no open discussion/dialogue between yourself and myself to remedy any of the above  factors

If I think of more I might add to this but I think that’s the gist of it. 

I don’t really follow for follow, if there is something about your blog that piques my interest then I may follow, but don’t just expect it. My following someone is interest based, not some odd unspoken social media obligation. 

Ask Box and Messaging should be open, feel free to message me whenever! I keep strange hours though so bear with me. 

Never hesitate to share your RP Rules with me if we’ve started or plan on starting an RP together, I will make an effort to read and know your rules and hope you do the same with mine (I mean you’ve already gotten this far in this post, might as well right? haha) 

The Yeses

Genres: Action, Adventure, Crime & Gangster, Drama, Epics, Fantasy, Science Fiction

Themes: Character development, world building, angst/dark plot, fluffy/light/sweet plot, porn with plot

Alternate Universes: ABO, Mpreg, BDSM, Harry Potter/Hogwarts, Pacific Rim, Magical Creatures (vampire, werewolf, harpy, siren, centaur, fawn, mermaid or other hybrid animal-humanoid AUs), Cyborg/Robot (one character as AI or part machine), Human (for fantastical or Sci-fi fandoms such as a No-Powers AU for an Avengers or Harry Potter/FBAWTFT centric RP), Powers (for non-powered or “normal person” fandoms), College, Mob/Mafia, Cam!Boy, Royalty/Prince/Princess, Arranged Marriage

AUs are pretty fun, I’m sure there are some I missed, just pose an idea and we can see if we can make it work!

Kinks: Note that these should always be negotiated, either before starting an RP (if planning one together), made clear in the prompt or easily extrapolated from prompt or worked out in dialogue between yourself and me before working it into an existing and continued RP. Power bottom, topping from the bottom, impact play, sensory play, breath play, feminization, crosdressing, orgasm denial, bondage, sensory deprivation, praise, humiliation, voyeurism, anonymous sex (glory holes), fake but perceived “public use” or “gang bang” (as in character A likes the idea of being used by multiple folks but perhaps character B is too possessive to actually hand them off to a group of people), double penetration, cock rings, ring gags, age difference (everyone is of legal consenting age), deepthroating, breath play, pillow princess, sex toys, dub-con, sex pollen, heats/ruts, cum play, magic involvement and I’m sure more I’m sure, just ask me. 

The Maybes 

Genres: Comedy 

Themes: Minor character death

Alternate Universes: High School (age difference and Teacher x Student is a major slippery slope, also see The Hard No’s) 

Kinks: Why these are Maybes and not Yeses or Hard No’s is contingent on the context of the RP, when in doubt, ask me and we can work something out. Violence, torture, psychological abuse, physical abuse, psychological disturbances, drug use (consensual or not), non-con, fuck-or-die, blood play, gang bang, gang rape, prostitution/forced prostitution, public use “period realistic” or homophobia realistic to a character’s personality and more. Like always, its a negotiation, just ask. 

The Hard No’s 

Genres: Horror, War/Politics (fandom specific, message me), Westerns (only exclusion is some Westworld AU or the like) 

Themes: Major character death, porn without plot (these just seem to die or loose interest much too fast),  wangst centric plot

Alternate Universes: De-Aged, TinyCharacterA (as in one of the characters is super small for some reason and everything else is normal sized) 

Kinks: Eating disorders, psychologist/doctor x patient, religion, incest, grossly under age, self harm, scat/feces/piss, necrophilia and I’m sure to add to any and all of these categories. 

My fandoms of interest 

Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Marvel, DC, Star Trek, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Pacific Rim, Mad Max Fury Road, Sherlock, Game of Thrones, Westworld, Super Girl, The Flash, One Punch Man, Yuri on Ice, Attack on Titan, Deadman Wonderland, Final Fantasy, Dragon Age Inquisition Overwatch and I’m going to leave it at that for now. 

My Ships

A separate post with an in progress list of my ships can be found here

[thelastangryman-blog]

A  Tall Tale of the Twin Towers in Four Parts

1.       Remember, Remember November Ninth, 2001

The early naughties was a weird time. We were sick of the 90s EXTREME! We were content with being told who and what was now cool. Then one of those ‘where were you’ days happened. Why has this number not come close to being matched since?

·         London: 52

·         Bali: 202

·         Madrid: 191

·         9/11: 2996

They were certainly strange times where anything could have happened but not much did. Despite what we were promised.

I was more entertained by the absolute ridiculous contrast of the character: Yosemite Bin Liner. He could train his agents of doom; supply them with the necessary documents and passports; infiltrate them into flight training schools. Co-ordinate all the hijackers; bypass airport security and carry out one of the most shocking acts of terror ever committed. But he had to make tapes and hoped they’d be found in a series of winding caves in his secret layer; that would put a Bond villain to shame. How about no.

What, he couldn’t email a link to AJ? I’d like to think there’s a bag somewhere with a horde of outtakes and bloopers. You’ve Been Jihad’d. See, this is why ISIS use Twitter and ISIL’s on Instagram; easier, convenient. Instant. Though, makes you wonder why these Machiavellian masterminds don’t just use the postal service. Honestly that’s about the safest and securest way to communicate these days.

And I remember, quite well, one of these Exclusive Terror Tapes. The whole world watched, glued to the tube; engrossed as the breaded bollocks bragged ‘bout the towers collapsing then broke the 4th wall with a wink and warned of the impending Jihad he’d rein down upon us. *SPOILERS* And where are they now; al-Qaida? All washed up. The roguish bad boy racket; yeah that shit gets old. Exit stage left with a splash.

Which begs the question, Bosco, why even tell us your grand plan? Wouldn’t it be more frightening if we knew nothing? Constantly living in an Islamic State of fear.

 2.       “9/11 was an Inside Job.”

Then the Feds should have no problem in solving the case. Just cross-reference the workers and see who has links to al-Qaida. Isn’t that what that term means: insider information was used, passed on to aid in the crime? So I wonder who it was that left the key under the mat for dear old Bin Liner to happen upon. 

I find it hard to believe no one has ever thought; for the fallen and the flag that God himself bestowed upon us: which gives us the right to go and find his body; salvage it. Bring it on tour “5 bucks to spit on the body of Bin Laden.”  Oh, out of respect for Islam and the Muslim race...hang on I’ve Je Suis on the other line. She says… ‘Fuck off, you commie queer.’  It’s more poetic in French.

So then ISIS made their debut with a twist. This season; there’s no proper antagonist. I’m not including the position of Jihad John, that’s just their Twitter account manager. With no face to tape to dart boards, who could it be? “Is that him?” “No, wait. That’s him; I think.” It’s all so vague and intriguing. Why better for ratings, my deer.

We see them training, in snippets of videos: doing jumping jacks in the desert. They can attack at anytime. It’s like when we were all afraid of the colour red. LOL. Can jet fuel melt steel beams? I don’t know, my area of expertise is pulling the piss out of vegans and daggin’. I just find it hard to believe vibrations, debris and office fires – hours later – brought down Building 7.

 3.       Alternative Ending

Osama Bin Laden was a hero for some. A role model even. And George Washington is no different; his supports are the other side of that spectrum. Both men by now, reduced to mere myths. But back to reality.

Old Yosemite had a dream. A plan. To put the fear of his God into these pig-dog enfilades for the decades of bloodshed: time to make them pay. Good job he was the chosen one; he was highly trained and financed.

Now remember kids, this was in a time before airport security became the parody we know today. Before watch-lists, Homeland Security and all this digital surveillance jazz.  And as it turned out old Bin Liner’d no problem getting his radicalised radicals into the Land of the Free.

And planes were the best he could come up with?

Instead of planes, why not a bomb in every state (Just mainland). That’s on average 62 deaths per state. And I don’t mean capitol cities, secondary or minor ones. I’m talking Hicksville, middle of Nowhere. A mom & pops store. The local diner where 62 honest-to-God-fearin’ people were enjoying an honest meal (Insert Product placement).  Boom. All 48 detonate simultaneously ripping the soul out of Nowhere.

Happy 4th of Jihad.

Ah, don’t be stupid; where’d Bin Liner get 48 bombs from? 

The garden centre, hardware store and supermarket.

MacGyver, The A-Team and years of CSI: you can do a lot with a handful of everyday items. Hell, they didn’t even need to go off. As long as it was viable and crude. Cruder the better; barbaric if you can. Doesn’t matter the size; the News’ll always tart it up with spectacularly render 3D virtual reality segments: interactive; download the app to see for yourself.

It’s not the effects but the affect.

The fact that these dirty, filthy savages managed to penetrate so far undetected; infiltrate to the very spine, crawl into the foundation with such ease and plant their bombs right in the heart; at such a local level... No. The reason why that never and will ever happen – despite all the promises and tweets – is because that sort of panic causes a stampede. And speaking from personal experience: once cattle are spooked you’ve no control of the situation.

And that’s why it has to metropolitan cities – the disconnect. The ripples. “Did you hear; the Muslims” Eyes start to narrow, a bit more. Then words like them and we are heard more. The wind picks up and every sort of cuntin’ flag comes out completely blocking your view. T-shirts get printed that read:

FIND THEM

PINPOINT THEM

NUKE THEM

4.       P.C.S

“There was never a golden age of man. We’ve always been shitty to one another.” Jake, TBR.

Was it naïve of me to expect too much? Instead of an almighty Jihad we were treated to phoned-in performances. Reminders; notifications:

“Hey, don’t forget, we’re still here. We’re not going to do anything, other than this. Even though we’re portrayed as being capable of worse. Don’t forget to subscribe. Donate to our Patreon.  Buy our T-shirts.”

And a plethora of rebranding. Ah, I suppose this is why things should never be hyped they’ll never live up. And no; we wouldn’t have a Utopia if these shady characters were gone. Not at all.

All I ask, going forward: entertain or challenge me but please don’t pander; that’s Marvel’s job. If these stale flash-mob-pop-up-performance-instillation pieces are to continue just make it believable because this passport trope is getting real old, son.

That’s not something you normally carry with you. You leave that somewhere safe until you need it but by then you forget where you left it and can’t find the bloody thing. And em, terror attacks/suicide bombing not really one of those times you need your passport: considering you’ve an army of social media bots that’ll claim responsibility for a fart.

I’ve pied-piper’d enough cattle and sheep to know they may be dumb, delicious animals but even they get wide to that shit.

Here’s a freebie.

Using FRS we were able to identify (Insert scary name).  Seen here at a refugee centre. (Oh! That means Islam. Let me get my flag) Piecing together the various texts/snapchats he then made his way to (SET) and we see him *or preferred pronoun* here entering (STAGE).

Keep it simple.

Again, I’m left wondering why these evil geniuses don’t go off-grid, be creative. Sure, things would be more complicated and real-time ‘exclusives’ go out the window. Though, would that be fair on our brave digital men and woman and their oxymoronically alphabetical Agencies? Could they cope, adapt to such a shift. All’s fair in love and Jihad.

But never in the middle of Nowhere.