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prentissluvr · 5 months ago

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literary parallels — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : light angst, fluff ➖⟢ cw : small injuries, few seconds of physical fighting (self-defense), no use of y/n, you have a dad and i gave him a name (rick lol), mentions of death of loved ones, sort of case fic, kinda ignores canon timeline in terms of a few minor things but canon doesn't matter much in this fic lol, poorly edited most likely ➖⟢ wc : 3.6K summary : sam is someone from your past at stanford university, and the last place you expect to see him again is on a case. that's exactly where you find him. i plan on doing a part two for this one in the future! :))

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

today is one of those days where the reality of your life feels strange, unwelcome, and somewhat foreign. it’s not as if you’re new to the hunting life; it’s just the opposite, and yet, you often feel removed from it, especially after having lived normally at college for a few years. but you were ripped back into hunting without being able to finish your degree by your father after the death of your closest cousin.

so now you’re cooped up in a crappy motel room searching endlessly through detailed lore websites and the few books you have on you, trying to make sense of the odd patterns of killings in the small california town. that’s part of the pit in your stomach for today; the beach town, cayucos, is only three hours from stanford.

being so close to your former university after almost a whole year brings back a whole lot of mixed feelings. mostly longing for the normalcy that you loved and lost, but also a renewed urgency to find what killed your cousin. she had been studying at a different college just an hour inland from you. when she died, you had wanted to salt and burn her body and move on. but when your father showed up with proof of odd circumstances, he pursuaded you to rejoin him in the hunting life.

the deaths in cayucos are certainly odd, but they lack the defining features that would allow you to identify the creature at fault. so, you’re searching for anything with a grudge against hot men and a killing cycle of seven years since those are about the only patterns so far. your dad is at the coroner’s office, meeting with an old hunter friend to check out the body of the latest victim.

that’s been another reminder of your brief time at a normal school with normal friends and normal hobbies. when your dad first told you he called in a friend to help, he’d asked you, “d’you remember john winchester? you met him once when you were a kid, he’s an old buddy of mine.” you shook your head and he shrugged, saying something about how it makes sense; you were young and only met him once. but the name stuck in your mind as he left, and it had nothing to do with hunting or when you were a kid on the road, stuck in motels, school if you were there long enough, or the town library if you were lucky.

that name, or the last name anyway, comes from the stanford part of your life, the one you keep cherished in the most protected corners of your heart. sam winchester was one of your few friends during your time there, and after hearing his family name spoken aloud, he’s floating through your mind all day.

he disappeared after jess, his girlfriend and one of your other few friends, died, mere weeks before your own cousin died and you left standford as well. you’ve always wondered what happened to him, the best conclusion you could come to being that he couldn’t bear her death. they were absolutely in love with each other, but you know jess would have wanted him to finish at stanford, then head to that law school he was bound to get that full-ride to. sam always had an air of strength about him, so it surprised you when you never saw him again. he wasn’t even at her funeral, and to this day, that’s your singular bone to pick with him.

but, you can’t afford to think about him too much as you search for answers about the case. abandoning the lore websites for the meantime, you look over the police records of all the deaths that you can find, hoping to draw together any more patterns that you can use to narrow down your research. you’re jotting down a few notes, thinking you may have found something regarding accounts of a few of the men being last seen with a woman, when your train of thought is interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door.

on instinct, you draw your gun as you cross the room, looking through the peephole and silently cursing when you realize the light out front has gone out. all you can make out is the tall, broad silluete of a man thanks to the dimness of the twighlight sky.

you wait for a moment at the door, hoping he’ll just walk away after he doesn’t get an answer. but you’re unlucky, and he knocks again before calling out, “hello? rick sent me here to … help with the case, he said his kid was here. i’m john winchester’s son, sam.”

if you were in an old-timey cartoon, your jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. sam … sam winchester. it sounds just like him. trying to keep your head, you swap your gun for a nearby canteen of holy water and slip a silver knife into your pocket for accessibility. it’s too much of a coincidence for you to believe it.

you crack the door, just enough for him to hear you a bit better. “sam winchester? like stanford full-ride, lawyboy sam winchester?”

“i– how do you–” there’s a moment of silence, and you know that he’s piecing together the few clues he has; your voice and the last name you must share with your dad, the man he knows as rick. his voice is just as cautious as yours as he says your name like he can’t really believe it.

for a moment, you stop thinking when you hear his voice saying your name after so long, and you throw open the door and let him in. the light from the motel room finally illuminates his face, and it’s him, it’s really him. and the moment you think that is the moment you realize that could absolutely not be the case.

the second he turns to you from closing the door, you’re splashing holy water in his face so fast you barely catch the look he was about to give you; eyes so full of surprise and wonder and confusion and something akin to joy. you react quickly to his lack of reaction besides the normal surprise at getting splashed in the face, slashing at his arm with your silver knife to finish testing him. but he reacts just as fast as you, grabbing both of your wrists, spinning you around and pinning you to the flat surface of the door.

his hold is quite strong, but he doesn’t have the time to bear his full weight into holding you down before you react, so you’re able to manuever out of his hold with practiced ease. you lift one arm up as you yank the other down to make it so you’re able to slip down and to the side, out of his hold. then you’ve got a strong hand to his back, shoving him face-first against the door and your other arm bringing your knife to his throat.

the thought that his profile view with his pulled-taut eyebrows and the grimace on his mouth looks pretty has the audacity to float up to the forefront of your mind before you can squash it down. the whole struggle had taken mere seconds, and he resigns the minute you’ve got him pinned down.

“it’s me,” he pants, “i swear. ‘m not a shapeshifter or ghoul or anything, it was just instinct. sorry,” he explains quickly, “go ahead, test me.”

you debate saying “don’t mind if i do,” but decide that you don’t have to be teasing or snarky about it. instead, you tamp down your hesitance to hurt him, even a little bit because he still sort of feels like innocent, regular, lawboy sam to you, and you draw a thin line of blood at the spot where his neck slopes into his broad shoulder. there’s no burning, just a normal wince from his mouth, so you loosen your hold on him and step back, internally cringing at the small bit of blood beginning to slip down towards his collarbone.

“sorry,” you say, far more sincere than you would be if it’d been anybody else. this is the norm for hunters, but you haven’t quite wrapped your mind around the fact that sam is a hunter. you’d never once would have guessed, though you suppose that was the point. you had done everything you could to hide that part of your life during your time at stanford.

“it’s fine,” he gives you an awkward half-smile, just as sincere as you. “just, y’know, your turn.” you’d been so busy taking in the sight of him standing there, looking almost exactly the same, but not quite, as he had in college, that you forgot about the courtesy of testing yourself too.

“right,” you clear your throat, “of course.” without the hesitance any normal person would have, you take the knife to your forearm and splash a bit of holy water on your skin. “there we go. no demons or shapeshifters or the like. that’s good.” you feel incredibly awkward all of the sudden, still so bewildered and thrown off balance by the collision of your two words. it feels like too much of a coincidence for you to be this close to your old school, be thinking about sam winchester, a symbol of that old life, then for him to show up and flip your whole entire understanding of him. there’s just about a million things running through your mind at just about a million miles per hour and it’s starting to make your head hurt.

the movement of his hand, reaching up to hold the small cut you gave him is what brings you out of your short lived reverie.

“god, i’m sorry. let me get you something for that.” you don’t give him the time to politely tell you, “no, it’s okay,” like you know he would before you’ve turned your back and crossed the room to grab a first aid kit from your bag and some rubbing alcohol from the bathroom. “sit down,” you urge him when you turn back to him, motioning towards the table you’d been seated at when he arrived.

he complies and once again, you’re thinking about the strangeness of sharing this sort of space with him. you’re used to seeing him in libraries so big that they’re almost grand for quiet study sessions or in the dining hall with his nose buried in a book or in the lecture hall where you first met him in a gen-ed class. you’re used to seeing him on one of the grassy quads with jess by his side or him in the big, open, and fancy old university buildings. now he looks right at home in the dingy motel room, so small it feels like his tall, broad frame shouldn’t fit in here, so dim that his sometimes blue or green eyes look sort of muddy. they’re pretty, nonetheless.

you set the first aid kit on the table and pull out a large bandaid and a bit of gauze. you reasses the cut to be sure he doesn’t need any other sort of bandaging and almost sigh in relief when you see how shallow it is. sam doesn’t speak or protest that he’s fine to do it himself as you pull the collar of his t-shirt aside just a bit. you’re sure his mind’s busy with a whole load of questions for you, just like you for him. the brush of your knuckles against his skin suddenly makes his presence feel more real. whatever contact you’d had during the short-lived fight you’d had was completely surreal; you weren’t sure he was really even sam, and if he was, it would feel like a lie anyways, for his hands to be rough or so quick in a fight.

he doesn’t so much as wince when you press alcohol soaked gauze to the cut, and though the wound is small and shallow enough that you’re sure it barely stings, it still feels like a sign of his being a hunter, being used to pain. you don’t like that thought; sweet, sincere, and ever so smart sam being used to pain. as you take care of the cut, he lets his eyes wander around the room, probably taking in how familiar it is, and how weird that it’s your motel room and all of your belongings packed into a single bag and your computer screen displaying hacked into police reports and the very same lore websites he frequents to solve a tricky case.

when you’re done he thanks you with a small smile and you take the seat across from him. as your fingers had brushed over his bare skin and felt a whisper of his strong shoulders, you’d gotten the strong urge to hug him. you missed him even more than you thought. that urge doesn’t leave when you move away from him.

you make a confused face at sam when he reaches for the first aid kit and pulls out another set of bandaids and gauze. he just hands you a gauze now soaked with alcohol and nods at you.

“for your arm,” he explains, because you’ve already forgotten about that as you accept it with a questioning brow.

“right,” you chuckle softly, swiping over the cut with the gauze, then taking and applying the bandaid that sam opened for you. when you’re done you have to drag your eyes up to meet sam’s gaze. there’s tension in the room, and though it’s not bad per se, it’s begging to be addressed and you’re not sure how to even start. it seems like sam’s not sure either.

so, you choose to jump right into the fire.

“it’s so good to see you, sam,” you confess, pushing all your sincerity into your voice, “i mean, this is absolutely insane and i can’t quite wrap my mind around it, but i guess i don’t really care because it’s so good to see you. i worried about you so much after … after jess died, i mean, you just dissappeared and … and i can imagine that has something to do with the fact that you’re a hunter, which is sort of incomprehensible to me, but–,” suddenly you’re hit with a new realization. if sam’s disappearance had to do with the supernatural, you wonder if jess’s death did too. but you don’t want to ask, not right now. “oh, god, and i never got to tell you how sorry i am. i– i mean. i can’t imagine.” there’s where your voice trails off and you look to sam to be the one to say something now.

“thanks,” he answers simply, voice gentle but a little pained, rightfully so. “she was your friend, too. i mean, we were all friends. and i’m sorry i disappeared like that. i, um, well, you’re right. hunting dragged me away. it’s complicated and i’ll explain it to you later. you deserve to know what happened to jess, but– but it’s a lot.” a moment of silence allows that to sink in; so something did happen to her, something more than just faulty electrical wiring in her apartment. sam’s genuine as he goes on, “and it’s great to see you too, really. it’s so strange, i mean all of this, obviously, but it’s even stranger how close we are to stanford. i was already thinking about it, about you all on the way over, and the next thing i know, you’re the suspicious hunter throwing holy water in my face.”

you cringe a little at that, but sam smiles a little wider than he has all night. “that’s a good thing,” he half-laughs, “i don’t care how weird this coincidence is, i’m glad for it.” his hand twitches, almost as if he’d wanted to reach over and grab your hand, but thought better of it before it could happen. “i gotta ask, did you finish your degree?” the way he asks is so hopeful, and you immediately know how much he wants the answer to be yes. he’s thinking, if i couldn’t finish, please tell me at least one of us could. that one of us poor and foolish hunter kids who thought we could escape managed to long enough to finish a degree, prove that we could make something of ourselves in the normal world. it would be so nice to see that, if it couldn’t be me, it could be somebody, it could be you.

his face falls a little when he registers the sad smile on your face. your expression is more than enough of an answer, and the fact that he wanted so badly for you to have made it makes your heart break a little, for both him and you. we deserved better, you think.

“just about the same thing happened to me,” you begin to explain, “you remember my cousin, bex?” sam nods, recalling the way the two of you acted like siblings the few times he met her, how much you liked alike when you smiled, already sad for what he suspects he might hear. “she died a few weeks after jess. she and i both grew up hunting, and we both thought we got out of it, at least for a little while. we almost lasted all four years … i didn’t think there was anything weird with her death, but … my dad showed me proof of just that at her funeral, convinced me to come back to hunting with him. she was– she was hiding something, and, honestly i’m still not sure what happened. progress on her case has been slow. real slow, so we’ve been working on others in the meantime. keeping busy, you know.”

“oh, i know,” sam sighs, and you completely believe him. you wonder for a moment what bigger things he’s digging into before deciding it’s best if the two of you stick to what’s in front of you. if you go too deep, having each other, a new kind of steady presence from better times, might start feeling too unreal again.

you want to preserve this delicate balance, where sam is still stanford sam and you’re still stanford you, but now there’s just a deeper understanding of each other. a knowing of what it’s like to grow up with a hunter for a father, to want to get away from it all, to want a sense of normalcy, and to want to learn and become something more and say “screw you!” to all of the expections. and on top of that, knowing how it feels to get so close to the finish line, only to have it ripped out of your hands like you’re a child who’s parents think they’ve had too much candy. only it’s far worse than a half eaten lollipop in the trash because people that you love died, and it was all so much more than just chasing after a momentary sugar high.

“i’m sorry about bex,” sam says, this time actually reaching out and placing his hand on yours for a moment. his voice is as full of empathy and sincerity as ever. “she was amazing the few times i met her. i could see how close you two were.”

“thanks, sam.” you give him a small smile because those words feel so much better coming from him than just about anyone else. with that, the air seems to settle a little, and it’s far more bearable. you’ve still got a hundred and one questions to ask and a hundred and one more things to say to each other, but to find out you have this near-exact shared experience is like having so much of the weight of loneliness lifted from your chest. and it all feels even better because you know sam. you know him already.

sure, there’s a whole lot you missed before, but you don’t doubt for a second that the sam sitting in front of you is as kind, funny, smart, witty, sincere, adorably awkward, and good as the sam you met and came to know at stanford. in fact, knowing he grew up the way he did just reaffirms his goodness to you. it’s not easy to live like that and continue choosing to be kind and well-meaning and true to yourself. then there’s this feeling of admiration for sam, just blooming in your chest and you hold back a wide grin because the timing’s not quite right. you still can’t shake the urge to hug him.

“well,” you smile casually, if not a little rueful as you say your next words, “i think our dads will go all hunter-dad-crazy on us if we keep playing catch up. i’ll give you a run down of everything i’ve got, then we can do what dropouts from the west coast’s most prestigious school’s do best; research.”

sam’s smile matches your own, and it’s achingly familiar. “well, we can’t have those asses ruin our not-quite-stanford-alumni reuinion. let’s get to work. we can pretend it’s like the good old days, spring freshman year, all of us cramming for the way-er exam at the back of the library and getting shushed by the librarians. we can pretend john and rick are the librarians.”

for the first time in a long time, you let out a loud laugh, surprised and pulled right out of you without warning. he smiles wide at the sound and finally, without restraint, you grin back. god, you missed him.

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sammyluvr · 2 months ago

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literary parallels — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, light angst, fluff, small injuries, few seconds of physical fighting (self-defense), no use of y/n, you have a dad and i gave him a name (rick lol), mentions of death of loved ones, sort of case fic, kinda ignores canon timeline in terms of a few minor things but canon doesn’t matter much in this fic lol, poorly edited most likely, 3.6K words. requested !

summary : sam is someone from your past at stanford university, and the last place you expect to see him again is on a case. that’s exactly where you find him.

you crack the door, just enough for him to hear you a bit better. “sam winchester? like stanford full-ride, lawyboy sam winchester?”

“it’s me,” he pants, “i swear. ‘m not a shapeshifter or ghoul or anything, it was just instinct. sorry,” he explains quickly, “go ahead, test me.”

the movement of his hand, reaching up to hold the small cut you gave him is what brings you out of your short lived reverie.

you make a confused face at sam when he reaches for the first aid kit and pulls out another set of bandaids and gauze. he just hands you a gauze now soaked with alcohol and nods at you.

“for your arm,” he explains, because you’ve already forgotten about that as you accept it with a questioning brow.

so, you choose to jump right into the fire.

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ariel-seagull-wings · 2 months ago

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MY X-MEN HOT TAKES

@thealmightyemprex @professorlehnsherr-almashy

@a-roguish-gambit @isareadsandwatches @knivxsanddespair @the-blue-fairie

With the Strangest Heroes of All ongoing resurgence in mainstream popularity, inspired by @s10127470 , I've decided to share my hot takes/unpopular opinions I have on the team.

1º They really should be their own continuity

The X Men are so expansive with such a unique identity , they kind of stick out compared to other Marvel Heroes.

Starting with making them people who were born with different physical appearances or powers, turned the characters to an inovation compared to previous superheroes from Marvel and DC that mostly got their powers from being affected by radiation, being supernaturally powerful gods, bein born in other planets or had financial resources that allowed them to pursue futuristic technology and training to become strong athletes.

Literary anyone can be a mutant, and the mutation can manifest in either bombastic powers, or simply giving you rainbow hair, scales and three heads, so is not automatically guaranteed that a person will be strong to fend for themselves, only a marker of different needs for acomodation and living. This is much different in tone from the stories of good vs evil adventures that the Avengers, Spider Man and the Fantastic Four focus, and enters more in the realm of thriller, urban fantasy and sci fi with a focus on social commentary.

2º Kitty Pryde's use of the N Work only happened three times, and is often taken out of its broader context, not only narratively, but in real life as well.

Is important to notice that Kitty Pryde is jewish: historically, the jewish people have ocupied a complex place amongst marginalized comunities, since most of them don't have a physical difference marker like defined skin and hair color, and due to laws often limiting their work options to money lending because that was profession often forbidden to christians (who held the power in the western world), it was easy to make them the scapegoats to get the blame for the sistemic failings caused by the rise of capitalism, which in the process, made them isolated in their history of persecution, since other minorities ended believing the antisemetic propaganda that "Jews control the economy" and "They are just white people with a different religion", they couldn't count with the solidarity of other groups, and this lack of solidarity has consequences to this day, like how most non jewish people fail to understand the trauma caused by the Holocaust. So when Kitty Pryde calls out a black person who calls her "mutie", and lists the N Word among the insults that harm in a memorial speech for a mutant teenager that killed himself, this is not "a white girl wanting license to use the N-Word thinking herself more opressed than everyone"... is a jewish person navigating isolation from other minorities when struggling with antisemitism.

3º They don't really need Professor X's leadership to be able of using the X in their team's name

In their very first publish story, Professor Xavier explains this to Jean Grey:

So he didn't gave the name to the team as to be an extension of himself: Charles is important in founding the X-Men, but it doesn't mean that they could never formed to fight for justice when without him, they would find their own way to each other, and form different concepts of how a team must work.

5º The Allegory and Social Commentary is at the Heart of why The X-Men so Much for So Many People

"I think the X-Men matter so much to me cause it's a group of outsiders, Magneto (Ian McKellen) was the first Jewish character I saw who wasn't a victim but a survivor who stood up for freedom and justice, the whole MLK and Malcom X parallels between him and Charles just magnificent and we just don't see this anymore. A breaker of chains in so many ways cause a jewish character is either a docile sad victim talking about the horrors or a joke and he is neither.

The X-Men are outsiders who aren't victims, they do good things (or morally really dark grey things) despite being persecuted and hated. They teach you how to survive, how to navigate through the hate and give you strength.

Remember the third X-Men movie? When there was a cure for mutants? It reminded me of conversion therapy, the talks of there is something wrong with you which needed to be fixed so you can be normal. I remember thinking about how stupid this cure was cause really why cure something which needs no cure? A lot of the mutants have wonderful gifts which make the world a better place if they are allowed to express themselves and share this gift. And well if that doesn't translate into this world rn then idk.

The X-Men are a diverse group and let's be real a lot of people can't deal with that, cause they can't relate to it and rather live in the fancy whitewashed avengers world. But Xmen is so important cause it gives people hero's who usually don't get the chance to see themselves as hero's."

(professorlehnsherr-almashy)

"Mutants were never meant to be a 1:1 comparison for minorities, but the stories presented in the comics and other media resonate with so many people. So many marginalized people have been smeared with accusations of being dangerous in many different ways. The thing is, ignorance towards marginalized people allows for stereotypes to be created and perpetuated. It's the othering and closed-mindedness that leads people that were taught those views to always fear the 'non-normal' groups. They worry about the kind of violence that they would encounter if they were to come across someone like that, or if their community were to allow that group in. Violence itself doesn't have to be physical in the eyes of a bigot. Existing as your natural self is enough for them. Some stereotypes focus on certain groups being violent aggressors who want to destroy you. Or, they see it as their way of life threatened, their morals questioned, if others are let in or normalized; how certain groups could possibly disrupt their community or even their own family. Changing the status quo is violent to them."

(macrobiology)

"The majority builds up an image of fear based on the "scary ones" (the rapists, the murderers, the abusers) and say "This is what they are like. This is how on how they can hurt you. We have to do it this way to protect you." And with that considered, I think X-Men/mutants really works well as an allegory.

The largest question that X-Men poses to me is that in this world where a portion of the population is born with powers, why has the world failed to accommodate their needs?"

(nadelige)

"I think that the concept of mutant hatred being politicised makes a lot of sense.

I think that governments and people in power preferring superpowered beings that they can control, and therefore branding anybody outside of that, especially people without a platform, the way that most mutants are portrayed as more or less everyday people rather than kings, billionaires, gods, etc. is a good and easy target for them to weaponise the public’s perception into anti-mutant, pro-government, pro-military propaganda.

The foundation’s already there with The Sokovia Accords, with various governments being much more in favour of controlling superpowered individuals rather than letting any of them freely act of their own individual or group accords. Mutants can simply be a face for that general sentiment to be perpetuated through propaganda. Yay War Machine, yay Captain America. Characters who have already been proven to have saved the world in large, well-known conflicts like what happened in Avengers: Endgame already have a certain level of public goodwill that governments would find hard to fight against, but newer, or lesser-known, or everyday mutants don’t have that same level of goodwill, nor influence, nor power (theoretically), that characters like The Avengers already have, and so could much easier be marketed as threats to the everyday public.

Also, seeing as not every mutant has powers that would largely benefit most governments, but there’s also some that could be weaponised dramatically, it’s believable that various governments would want to deter mutant goodwill as propaganda against other governments potentially using them, while also giving excuses not to put mutant-positive propositions forward themselves because mutants aren’t always powerfully useful for self-serving politicians and governments. If it doesn’t directly and selfishly help them personally, then they aren’t going to support it, and instead weaponise that disregard in an attempt to further their own agendas.

“Mutants are too variable to be trusted, or more accurately, used.”

(tomandharrisongifs)

6º Mojo is not a Bad Villain, and his Three Episodes in the Animated Series Were Good

I can't defend Motendo from 97 though, first because it took too much time away from Lifedeath which should have been the focus, and two because they lost the oportunity to use Arcade, who is an actual videogame inspired X-Men villain.

7º Your Reaction to Xavier and Magneto's beliefs Will Likely Depend a Lot on Wether or Not you're part of an US American Audience or a Foreign Audience

Historically, most US american mass media advocated for moderate level liberal politics, that encouraged people to slowly and gradually reach progress trough the current sistem of democracy, and viewed people who acted trough revolutionary means like the organization of guerrilla warfare as villains that could be simply "bringers of disorder and chaos" and "no better than supremacists". While there are exceptions in the cultural production of the country, most of the time, media and art that viewed revolutionary characters trough a more positive lens is made outside of the US, often criticizing the failure of the american policy that presents itself as liberating, but historically has supported several military coups that took away other countries democracies to benefit their economic interests. So in this context, it grows on people a questioning of the aproach of "peaceful coexistence" and "diplomacy" in a world where your head is constantly stepped on when you try to do just that, and so there is no other alternative but take arms and fight back.

And in this context, comes the different receptions of Xavier and Magneto's characters and beliefs between different audiences: if you grew up in the US learning to be more moderate and be afraid of revolution, is more likely (with some exceptions) that you will support Xavier's optimism of peaceful coexistence, but if you grew up outside the US (like I did) questioning the US politics in the name of respectability and pacifism and not fearing revolutionaries, then is likely that you will question the attempts of portraying Magneto as a villain even though there are many elements in the narrative that give him the right to be angry and violent and not trust humans, and attempts to argue that "he is a supremacist" doesn't work for your as a viewer.

In their personal lives, both characters fail in many levels, particularly in relation to their children, but most of the time when audiences discuss "who is right or wrong", the focus is actually in how they act as in universe political leaders.

#x men #pop culture #fandom musings #mutants

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bluberimufim · 10 months ago

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Writer Q&A Tag Game

Hello. I got tagged for this by @squarebracket-trick on this post and I thought it sounded super fun. So, here we are!

1. What motivates you to write?

I started out as an artist, but I began writing once I realized that visual art as a medium wasn't enough to tell the stories I wanted to tell - it had no way of codifying lore, defining character traits, or even just easily telling a long story. I think it's still largely that, in a way. I come up with all these stories and I "get them out" through writing because I sure as hell can't keep them inside my brain for eternity.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

This one is pretty recent, from a few chapters ago in DoS, but I'm really proud of it. I just feel like it emphasizes how much Seth's experience with souls connects with the body, which is the Goddess of Time's domain. A lot of metaphors in this story centre around bodies and physicality because of this. Here's the snippet:

And yet, there was Theo, with her soul so unwound there was no fixing it anymore. The most she could do was keep healing and healing, covering the cracks of the bowl with her own hands in the hope that they'd go back to normal. Keep filling the ocean so that, no matter how many holes lined its bed, it would never be empty. [...] She held her so tight she thought her hands would fuse to her skin. As if she could cover the cracks of her soul with her own body.

Idk, I just vibe with it.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

(what happened to 3 and 4? where did they go?)

I'd say back-and-forth banter, probably because of my time in theatre, but also horror description. It creeps up on me. I keep writing horror on accident. And I always really like it. Just something about describing something weird and spooky.

6. What do you enjoy most about the Writeblr community?

Mostly the fact that there's all these other writers who have cool stuff and also wanna see my cool stuff. I already loved writing on my own, but knowing that there are people Out There who also care about my stories just feels amazing.

And also, the casual friendship between people. You interact with someone's blog, they interact with yours, and you suddenly feel like you're friends, kinda. I can only compare it to making quick friends with someone on the playground as a kid. I like it <3

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech-to-text, a writing program etc)

I am a very ✨analogue✨ person, so my best writing advice in this scenario is always: put that shit on paper.

Feel unsure about a scene? Put that shit on paper. It's like a 0.5th (hehe "halfth") draft that you will copy onto your document and you will always improve it with that second look.

Worried about perfectionism? Put that shit on paper. Even pencil, at least to me, feels hard to erase. It's mostly about living with the stuff you've written and not looking back - erasing is such a pain in the ass that you might as well just keep going forward.

Wanna write secretly during class/lectures/whatever where you're not allowed to have a device? Wadda ya know, the answer is also paper.

Wanna edit? Printing stuff out helps you get some distance from your own writing and it also makes you see it more as a book than as just something you've made.

It also generally makes you feel less bad about changing stuff later in the document, because you have a solid, physical record of what you've written before.

Put that shit on paper. It works well.

(sorry for the rant sbdhagjk)

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I once made a post about the art movements in the world of the dystopia WIP (yes, seriously) but I can't find it anymore. I'm not gonna explain it again, it was stupidly long the first time around.

I guess, outside the dystopia WIP, I'm pretty proud of the whole Three Sister Goddesses thing from DoS. I have drawn designs, but I'll make another post sometime. I'm also proud of the relationship between the Goddesses tho.

They're at war with each other, but they're just doing it for entertainment. They kiiiinda hate each other but not as much as their desire to have fun. Like, they will send their daughters to decimate each other's armies, but they'll also hang out together in the Plane of the Gods. The war is kind of like a decades-long game of Monopoly they're having at the family function. And I just think it's cool. Goes into that whole thing about mortals being like ants to uncaring gods that I like.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Kinda cliché, but I'd say this: it happens to everyone, dude (gender neutral). Everyone has periods of time when they feel bad and can't write. Or where they feel like their writing is terrible. Doesn't make you less of a writer.

Even if you're not as productive as other people: who cares, honestly? As long as you're having a good time and doing something you love, it doesn't matter how much time you need or don't need to finish something. Even if you never finish anything. And if you feel like you're not as good as other people: who cares either, you know? Everybody starts somewhere. And everybody has different strengths. You'll get better. You always do.

At the end of the day, we're all just doing this because we love it. Don't force yourself. The time will pass anyway.

Ooooookay that last one was a bit more serious than the rest. Anyway, I wanna tag, no pressure, @fleurtygurl @stesierra @cheeto-flavoured-pasta and @sarandipitywrites

#writeblr #writing #tag game #ramblies

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circumlocutive · 5 months ago

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Undergrad research blast from the past. Here I am in 2020 assembling a micro fluidic flow cell with a gold electrode block. I think I took this video for myself so I knew what to clip to what. This was when I worked with electrochemical sensors, transducing signals via impedance spectroscopy.

A lot of electrochemical techniques rely on measuring voltages or currents, but in this lab we looked at impedance- which is a fancy combination of regular resistance (like the same one from ohms law) and the imaginary portion of the resistance that arises from the alternating current we supply.

I would functionalize different groups on the gold working electrode by exposing the surface to a solution of thiolated biomarker capture groups. Thiols love to form self-assembled mono layers over gold, so anything tagged with thiol ends up sticking. [Aside: Apparently after I left the group they moved away from gold thiol interactions because they weren't strong enough to modify the electrode surface in a stable and predictable way, especially if we were flowing the solution over the surface (which we wanted to do for various automation reasons)]. The capture groups we used were various modified cyclodextrins- little sugar cups with hydrophobic pockets inside and a hydrophilic exterior. Cyclodextrins are the basis of febreeze- a cyclodextrin spray that captures odor molecules in that hydrophobic pocket so they can't interact with receptors in your nose. We focused on capturing hydrophobic things in our little pocket because many different hydrophobic biomarkers are relevant to many different diseases, but a lot of sensors struggle to interact with them in the aqueous environment of bodily fluids.

My work was two fold:

1) setting up an automated system for greater reproducibility and less human labor. I had to figure out how to get my computer, the potentiostat (which controls the alternating current put in, and reads the working electrode response), the microfluidic pump, and the actuator that switched between samples to all talk to each other so I could set up my solutions, automatically flow the thiol solution for an appropriate time and flow rate to modify the surface, then automatically flow a bio fluid sample (or rather in the beginning, pure samples of specific isolated biomarkers, tho their tendency to aggregate in aqueous solution may have changed the way they would interact with the sensor from how they would in a native environment, stabilized in blood or urine) over the electrode and cue the potentiostat for multiple measurements, and then flow cleaning solutions to clean out the tubings and renew the electrode. This involved transistor level logic (pain) and working with the potentiostat company to interact with their proprietary software language (pain) and so much dicking around with the physical components.

2) coming up with new cyclodextrin variants to test, and optimizing the parameters for surface functionalization. What concentrations and times and flow rates to use? How do different groups around the edge of the cyclodextrin affect the ability to capture distinct classes of neurotransmitters? I wasn't working with specific sensors, I was trying to get cross reactivity for the purpose of constructing nonspecific sensor arrays (less akin to antibody/antigen binding of ELISAs and more like the nonspecific combinatorial assaying you do with receptors in your tongue or nose to identify "taste profiles" or "smell profiles"), so I wanted diverse responses to diverse assortments of molecules.

Idk where I'm going with this. Mostly reminiscing. I don't miss the math or programming or the physical experience of being at the bench (I find chemistry more "fun") but I liked the ultimate goal more. I think cross reactive sensor arrays and principle component analysis could really change how we do biosample testing, and could potentially be useful for defining biochemical subtypes of subjectively defined mental illnesses.... I think that could (maybe, possibly, if things all work and are sufficiently capturing relevant variance in biochemistry from blood or piss or sweat or what have you) be a more useful way to diagnose mental illness and correlate to possible responses to medications than phenotypic analysis/interviews/questionnaires/trial and error pill prescribing.

#blog #stem #electrochemistry #sensors #biochemistry #research

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trans-axolotl · 3 years ago

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genuine question. what else are you supposed to do with people who WILL kill themselves the second they’re given free reign?

So this is always the question that comes up when I discuss the fact that psych wards are a form of incarceration. It can be really difficult to imagine alternatives for how to care for suicidal people when we've only ever seen psych wards, but I think that it is super important for us to do!

I think it's important to acknowledge that getting rid of psych wards would require a fundamental reshaping of the psychiatric system. So much of mental healthcare is connected to a fucked up, carceral system, where ableism is rampant. Mandatory reporting of self-harm laws, bullshit restrictions on medication, crisis hotlines that call the police--the psychiatric system is connected in a lot of big and small ways that all enable psych incarceration and mistreatment to happen. so it's not enough to just get rid of psych wards, we also have to change the wider landscape of mental healthcare.

secondly, I think we also need to look at factors that drive people into crisis in the first place. no matter what we change about society, there are always going to be people who are mentally ill and neurodivergent, and people are always going to be experiencing mental distress. so while getting rid of capitalism and fighting against oppression to create a better society won't change the fact that there are people in crisis, i think it might help to reduce the numbers of people. if our mental healthcare system wasn't so fucked, that maybe some people would be able to get help before things get to a crisis point for them. If medication was more accessible, if therapy wasn't super expensive, if there is more acceptance and education and resources and communities were better informed about how to support mentally ill people, then maybe not as many people would end up in some types of crisis. We can't talk about getting rid of psych wards without also talking about fighting against racism, colonialism, capitalism, transphobia--the things that are contributing to a lot of people's experiences of crisis.

But to really answer your question: in terms of actual physical replacements for psych wards, i think peer respite houses are really promising. peer respite houses are something that already exist in dozens of states, and they are spaces that offer 24/7 short term crisis stabilization in a home like environment. they have a very specific code of ethics and principles that define peer respite that makes it different from a hospital. To classify as peer respite, it has to be staffed by a people who have lived experience with mental health, which means that all professionals and staff there are also going to be people who are mentally ill and neurodivergent. Peer respite can offer a place for someone to be in direct contact with support 24/7 without locking people up. They're focused on reducing power imbalance between staff and patients, and don't practice abusive treatments like strip-searching, solitary confinement, and forced medicalization. they allow you to bring in your own belongings, leave when you want to, and have vistors. they aren't a perfect solution, but I think they are a hell of a lot better than psych wards and offer a way for people to be under suicide watch without being incarcerated. Here's a great link to read more about the mission and structure of peer respite. Here's a link to a mostly current directory of peer respite in the USA.

I also think that we just need to accept the fact that psych wards do not work, that many people attempt suicide instantly after leaving psych wards, and that there is no justification for abusing people in the name of treatment. suicidal people deserve autonomy and respect, and we deserve to be able to have input about what's happening to us.

there's also a lot of things that I think can be used as alternatives to psych incarceration for suicidal people before we get to the point where crisis stablization is needing, like mad mapping/pod networks and Wellness Recovery Action Planning or a similiar type of recovery plan. I also think that thinking about how to support people who are suicidal requires a fundamental restructuring of how we think about suicide (I might make a post about this later). and that there's a lot of ways we can support suicidal people that don't require formal institutions. you can get a group of people together to do informal suicide watch for a friend, you can work to understand your own suicidal ideation in alternative frameworks (suicidal ideation as communication, resistance, tons of other ways), you can create skill sharing networks where you all work on therapy skills together and try to build up your own distress tolerance skills, you can visit people in the psych ward and sneak them in candy and a stuffed animal, you can pass out zines about harm reduction for self-harm in your friend group.

this got a little long but to sum it up: there are alternatives to psych wards, even when people are actively suicidal. peer respite is one option, and any alternative to psych incarceration also has to come along with societal changes, fighting oppression, and mindset shifts.

#personal #asks #antipsychiatry #suicide mention tw #psych ward #ok to reblog

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a-witch-in-endor · 2 years ago

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do you think it’s silly that as someone who isn’t really religious (more in a chill way than in a completely convinced way like i mostly just don’t think about it too much) but who was raised somewhat catholic (never really believed as a child either but some practices were fun/ parents alternated between saying they believed and saying they didn’t and didn’t do religious practices that often or assiduously) to want to reconnect with my great grandmother’s religion and culture (on my mother’s side; she was jewish). like sometimes i feel it’s pointless or that since i’m not religious that i’m just going to do it to feel interesting but that i’m not really sincere. i’m not really looking to convert but more like picking up and observing some common practices that are somewhat commonly observed as cultural rather than only religious? my family history is nebulous and complicated but. i think maybe my great grandmother would’ve liked her things to be passed on and that’s what keeps nagging me about it.

sorry about a long personal anon especially if it’s inappropriate or if you don’t feel like replying feel free to delete it, i am asking because it’s hard to get an answer myself and it’d be nice to have an opinion from someone who /is/ jewish. like i’d post on a thing like quora or reddit or whatever but i don’t really use that so i figured i’d try here. also obviously i know you’re just one person and not representative of all jewish people and all varieties of jewish faith and groups etc etc i’m taking all this with a grain of salt etc etc. thank you i hope you’re doing well and have a good day!

Hi anon, thanks for sharing your thoughts with me.

The first thing I want to ask you to think about is... your maternal great-grandmother: was this your mother's mother's mother? Because if so, I have bad news, and that bad news is that you're actually Jewish already. Oops. Jewish law about "who is a Jew" is traced down the maternal line. Do contact me again if you want to talk through what that might mean (or not mean) for you.

Secondly, I think it's worth pondering the relationship between religious feeling and religion. Christians do like to frame religion in terms of faith, sometimes to the point that we call them "faiths" in English, but most religious groups in the world don't self-define that way. Religion is ill-defined because it's actually a lot of things. It's ethnicity and culture, it's shared language and concepts, it's mythology and worldbuilding and metaphors, it's relationship with the soil of a homeland, it's the physical rituals we use to hold important moments of life and development, it's law and ethics, it's connection with ancestors and the ways in which they shaped us and changed the world. And yes, it's also how we feel about the Divine, how we connect with the Great Other, how we give prayers and offerings, but that's only one part of what religion is.

If I assume that you're not actually Jewish (which is not a given), then you are what we might call zera Yisra'el, or "seed of Israel". This means that your ancestors, fanning out through many generations, were Jews. Their food and culture and language and mythology and texts and prayers were Jewish. Feeling a draw to connection with that is not at all strange to me. It's part of the constellation of your history, and I think it's beautiful that you'd like to carry some part of that forward.

Jews are a people primarily of text and physical ritual. I have no advice on where to start aside from reading and acting. But I hope this was helpful, and please feel very free to de-anon and message me if you want to talk about it any further.

#jew on main #judaism #religion #matrilineal descent

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entities-of-posts · 3 years ago

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Making this its own post to not clutter the notes of the other one any more than I already did, but @unravelingthread’s tags on the Spiral vs Unknowing post made me want to expend (read: ramble) on how I’d define the very narrow (but present!) difference between the Stranger and the Spiral. I think these are very good points! The Spiral is about your mind lying to you, your own perception being wrong, so it is quite often internal, but it can be external in the case where you think the entire world isn’t real, or doesn’t obey the laws you thought to be the bedrock of existence. Even then, the problem is mostly with you, for fooling yourself into thinking you understood reality, and less about any external intent to harm.

The exception to this is the “fake friend” aspect which (according to Jon’s admittedly subjective opinion) Helen embodied so well. While it could fall in the Stranger’s domain, I believe the key difference is humanity, and the biological nature of the deceit. A liar may have intent to deceive you which is more of a Stranger trait, but they’re still human, while something of the Circus’ ilk is by definition wrong on a fundamental, physical level. It isn’t what it pretends to be, not like a two-faced friend but like an orchid mantis. It often shouldn’t even be alive, and it disguises itself as such with intent to harm you.

There can be no manifestation of the Stranger without sentience. It has to be alive enough to want to hurt you, and it’s important that you actually notice… just when it’s too late. The distorted hallways may or may not be alive, in a sense, but whether or not they are/whether or not you realize it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t even matter if they’re physically real. The Stranger is, in a way, slightly closer to the Hunt, while the Spiral strictly deals in passive traps. You have to open the yellow door yourself, but the thing calling out to you with the sweet voice of a stolen throat might also come to your home and snatch you even if you don’t follow its siren’s song, if it really wants to get you.

In conclusion, this is why I believe the Unknowing as it was described to us actually lines up a bit more with manifestations of the Twisting Deceit than those of I Do Not Know You, since it leans so heavily on the witnesses becoming unable to tell what’s real or understand what their eyes are telling them until they lose their minds, which is textbook Spiral. I think a more fitting aftermath of the Stranger’s victory (had it been actually possible) would have been a world where basically everything is a mimic. You see a chair, and rather than being unable to process its purpose and existence, you can perfectly comprehend that it’s a chair, but when you go to sit it bites you in half.

But of course, we do have to remember that the Entities are a beautiful hateful rainbow, and some colors are simply harder to differentiate than others. We all know the difference between Vast blue and Buried brown (though they do blend in similar dark shades in one place and one place only: the abyssal depths of the oceans!) but there’s plenty of space for second guessing about exactly where Spiral yellow fades into Stranger sallow beige.

#I know beige and brown aren’t in the rainbow it’s a METAPHOR okay.#anyway. I know more about the Entities than Jonny and if you disagree I’ll remind you that I’m the one driving this mystery van <3 #< this is a joke by the way I’m always open to debating pointless details about my specific interpretation of these funky little fear gods #do I main tag this? I think I’ll main tag this #tma

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red-riding · 4 years ago

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Tolkien Elves Clothing Headcannons

Please read: These are only my headcanons, meaning my ideas and interpretations of what Tolkien's elves would have worn based on the text, my clothing knowledge, and imagination. I am in no way claiming this is how it should be. Also I own none of the photos used in this post.

Also this is obnoxiously long and wordy, so if you skip to a section that interests you, I won't judge. I may have went ( A lot ) over bored ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Also I just want to say thank you so much for all the support I got on the post asking if I should do this, I hope it lives up to everyones expectations.

Sources

Okay so in going on this journey of research, I ran into an issue. What culture or cultures to base the clothes off of. My first thought was to have each elven group take ideas from different human cultures. Which makes sense to an extent.

I feel elves would all dress more similar than different across Tolkien’s universe. My reason for this is all the elves started out in the same place (the awakening) and were all exposed to the same things. I believe their clothing would be strongly influenced by the Valar due to Orome’s influence in the beginning and since elves are immortal this influence would not die out as generations go on (I talk about this in the trends section of this post).

If you look in human societies throughout history, they are often unified culturally, despite being far apart, by a religion and I'm applying this to elves. They would emulate the Valar’s clothing in my mind.

Okay now that I narrowed down that I want to use one culture mostly, what culture to pick? There honestly is no right answer to this I feel, but i'm going with European influence (Which is super general I know) since that is where the concept of elves originates from and Tolkien was English. Elves started making their way into stories and poetry in around the 1500s, so that gives me a general area and date to start forming my headcanon. I'm also going to take quite a lot of liberties and take influence from the Lord of the rings films, and general fantasy aesthetics as well to form these headcanons.

Fabrics

When talking about clothes the first place to start is what they are made of: the fabric. What kind of fabric would the elves use and have available to them. When coming up with this I considered two main things, One how durable the fabric is and two could elves make it.

I think durability would be extremely important to elves. According to the International textile association, the average regularly worn garment will last two to three years. Imagine how short of a time period that is to elves! This is why I believe durability would be extremely important to elves, they want something to last. especially the less wealthy elves because they can not afford constant new clothing.

I am only going to list clothing I think the elves could realistically make, so no polyester, plastic and chemical based fabrics.

Considering these two things I have come up with this list using this website as reference.

Canvas

Cashmere

Chenille

Chiffon

Cotton

Georgette (Silk variety)

jersey (Silk and cotton variety)

Leather and Animal Skins/furs

Wool (And all its woven variants)

Muslin

Lace

Satin

Silk (And all its differently woven Variants)

Taffeta

Velvet

Silhouette

Note: We are looking at shape/Silhouette in this section, don't mind the colors or fabrics in my reference photos.

So if you study fashion history and culture at all you know the silhouette is one of the defining things of a culture and era. This brings on the question of what the Silhouette for elves would be. I think elves would share one general silhouette with similarities between the male and female silhouettes but have differences as well. This also applies to elves of different lands. They may have the same general silhouette with slightly different things.

For Elleths

For the common elleth silhouette I am going to say one thing SLEEVES. This is taking inspiration from both the LOTR movie and 1500s european paintings and fashion. long graceful sleeves is something I think would be an elven stable on formal/evening gowns. I feel there would be different styles of sleeves however the most common would be something like this. However I will say for casual work wear they would yield unhelpful.

Another thing I feel most elleth dresses would have is a waist seam. This is one thing I strongly dislike about the LOTR movie dress, a majority of the dresses at their base looks like a modern slip dress or a night gown and im not a fan. I understand this was probably a stylistic choice to represent how refined and ellagent the elves were, but to me it just looks like an ill fitted fast fashion nightgown. Here is a link to a good example photo if you want to look. Almost no dresses until the last hundred years lacked a waist seam like this. Some cultures don't have a waist seam in woman clothing but will almost always have a belt like garnet if there is no seam. And I personally think waist seemed gowns, look far more elegant. Plus 1500s european gowns all had waist seams so we are adding a waist seam.

Now the skirt, I feel it would be simple and more on the flat flowing side. No hoop skirts or bum roles for the elves. I do think in some gowns they may add some under lawyers to add volume and or warmth.

For Ellons

I actually really like the LOTR movies interruption of elven male robes for formal situations, Here is an example. I also think similar styles but shorter would be worn by either younger ellons or ellons wanting to branch out in a different style for a formal occasion. Here is an example.

For General Elves

I feel something both genders would share in their formal and non formal clothes is the use of capes in very versatile ways. The cape could have a function like keeping one warm, or just be purely for show and drastic flare as one descends from their throne *cough* Thranduil, Feanor *Cough*. Here are some examples: Example 1, Example 2, Example 3.

Now onto the talk of practical clothing. No matter how graceful elves are they can not wear gowns and robes when training or horse back riding. I imagine simple slacks and tunics would be a common site among elves who do physical activities. What Legolas wears in the lord of the rings, is perfect I feel. Practical and rather similar to what humans wear. Here is the example.

Colors

I feel the elves would have clothing of all colors overall. depending on a couple things. Elves' clothing colors would be different depending on the environment and what dyes they have available in it. As well as what colors function best in an environment, so a lot of greens.

I don't think elven royals would enforce any laws that limits what colors an elf can wear depending on class like most royals throughout human history have. I do feel that certain elven houses, or elves would take on certain color themes. For example I believe Feanor and his house would wear a whole lot of reds, and blacks. While Finarfin and his house would be wearing more blues, whites and silver.

I think plant based dyes would be the most common among elves, making their clothing fall more on earthy toned down colors, opposed to bright synthetic ones we are used to (See mood board above). I do think some brighter colors could be achieved by dying a garment multiple times or using a rarer material like minerals. However I feel majorly would be as I said earthy and natural.

Embellishments

I believe elves would dabble in all forms of embellishments on their clothing, I mean they have so much time on their hands so why not? I think embroidery would probably be the most common, Little swirled designs on hems and such. Bead work probably would be reserved for more formal garments, due to it being done with crystals and gems and taking lots of time.

I think what designs elves created would mostly be inspired by nature. Different flowers, birds, and stars being the most common.

I think some elven royals would have robes glistened with sewed on diamonds and jewels, to draw attention to themselves and show status.

Environments

(Note: The way I arranged this mood board above is by environment. So Beach/tropical first row, Temperate forest middle, and snowy cold place third row.)

I feel the main thing that will be changing between different environments and temperatures is what materials they use. Fur and wool lined cloaks and robes for cold places. Light breathable fabric, decorated with sea shells for tropical beach environments. And cotton and medium warmth clothing for forests. I also feel for hunting clothing elves in forests would wear green, and in snowy areas would wear white furs.

I believe elves would still maintain the same general silhouette in different areas (Go to the Silhouette section for more details) just adding on layers and warmer fabrics in colder places.

Trends

So this section does not get a mood bored because I could not think of what that would be.

Trends are something extremely prevalent throughout human culture, often decided by those in power: Celebrities nowadays and in the past royalty. I don't think elves would have trends like we do, for two main reasons.

Reason one is as I said, trends in the past were decided by royals and oftentimes when a new royal took throne fashions would change in their image. However elven rulers don't die of old age like humans, they live forever. making the constant change of trends not occur with each new ruler because there is not a new ruler often. When there is a new ruler it is most likely extremely tragic because that means the past ruler died, and the next (Most likely a child of the old ruler ) would probably not want to cause a drastic change in clothing out of respect.

Reason two being age groups. Trends often times change as new age groups move into the prime of their life and old generations die out. However elves are immortal and don't die out. I have no doubt younger elves would dress somewhat differently but there would be no massive clothing changes, In silhouette or fabrics due to the older elves pushing back against it. As well as the elves wanting to continue emulating the Valar.

Everyone who asked to be tagged and I want to show this too: @psychostatic, @deep-space-elf, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @tiefliing, @animallover81, @softnessfrommyheart, @xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx, @hardinginhightowns, @xirinofarvada, @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth, @brannonlasgalen, @most-random-blog-with-stuff, @aduialel, @a-dragon-under-the-stars, @proffyaffle, @estel-means-hope, @eldritch-gilthoniel, @tsuyu-sama, @lady-of-black-roses, @perhaps-iwilltry, @lady-latte, @allinwonderlands , @saviorsong, @entishramblings, @rowandor, @halfwaytheremama, @tran-khuetu, @tolkien-fantasy

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therealvinelle · 4 years ago

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How do you believe Carlisle feels about Esme? How would their break up go? Would he ever cheat on her? I mean like emotionally?

He loves her.

I don’t doubt that his feelings for Esme are genuine, that he respects and cherishes her and wishes to spend his life with her. Esme, too, worships the man.

My complete lack of faith in this ship comes from the fact that they’re together for the wrong reasons and not compatible.

The Bad Beginning

Carlisle had spent centuries searching for likeminded, he never did. In the end he succumbs and starts creating his own, first Edward and then Esme, and to his joy they both agree to do the diet.

Esme’s transformation was entirely an impulse on his end. He saw this delightful, vivacious young woman he’d known ten years ago lie broken and dying in the morgue, a Jane Doe declared dead, she was all too easy to steal. She was too far gone for him to have time to think it over, and so he went «alright let’s do this. I imagine it seemed rather like God had sent her to that morgue specifically. We learn from Midnight Sun that romance wasn’t on his mind at all (even if it was, that wouldn’t make their marriage more functional) and he expected nothing of her. He bit her because he didn’t want Esme Platt to die.

Esme, of course, wakes up into this new life under surreal, heavenly circumstances. Her child is still dead - but here is the mythic, pedestaled Dr. Cullen, now her savior and more wonderful than ever. To back myself up with the books:

Esme had already been in love with Carlisle—much to his shock—but not through any mystical, magical means. She’d met Carlisle as a girl and, drawn to his gentleness, wit, and otherworldly beauty, formed an attachment that had haunted her for the rest of her human years. Life had not been kind to Esme, and so it was not surprising that this golden memory of a good man had never been supplanted in her heart. After the burning torment of transformation, when she’d awakened to the face of her long-cherished dream, her affections were entirely his. (Midnight Sun, chapter Bloodtype)

Carlisle, on his end, hadn’t had the idea at all until Edward said “Dude, she’s into you, go for it.”

I’d been on hand to caution Carlisle about her unforeseen reaction. He’d expected that she would be shocked by her transformation, traumatized by the pain, horrified by what she’d become, much as I had been. He’d expected to have to explain and apologize, to soothe and to atone. He knew there was a good chance that she would have preferred death, that she would despise him for the choice made without her knowledge or consent. So the fact that she had been immediately prepared to join this life—not really the life, but to join him—was not something he was ready for.

He’d never seen himself as a possible object of romantic love before that moment. It seemed contrary to what he was—a vampire, a monster. The knowledge I gave him changed the way he looked at Esme, the way he looked at himself.

More than that, it was very a powerful thing, choosing to save someone. It was not a decision any sane individual made lightly. (sic)

I’m not entirely void of authorial intent - I get that this was supposed to be romcom where the cute nerdy guy has no idea the girl is interested.

But, what I see is that after centuries of being alone, never finding anybody who shared his values, Carlisle finally has these two people who share his ideals, the only two in the world. He’s had countless friends, but it never worked out because of that damn diet. But, now he has these two people, and one of them is a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman who’s in love with him.

I imagine falling for Esme was easy. It was just so perfect, simply by being Carlisle Cullen he could make her happier than any other man, and given their shared diet, he wanted her by his side always, just as he did Edward. And this was it for him, really, to Carlisle Cullen Esme might as well be the only woman in the world because she’s the only one who'll share his lifestyle. He also felt responsible for her.

I don’t at all doubt their sincerity or affection for one another.

However, they did not fall for each other for each other’s sakes. Esme fell for the ideal since childhood, and Carlisle fell because she was perfect. Stick them in an AU and it won’t happen.

The Slippery Slope

Where they run into trouble is firstly that Esme doesn’t share these ideals, nor value human life for its own sake. Now, I’m not asking her to be a saint - but over the course of these books we had some lapses that I find pretty damning.

She wanted Edward back in Forks, when this would almost certainly mean the death of Bella Swan, simply because to Esme having Edward nearby > a person’s life. This wasn’t the case for Carlisle, he made it extremely clear he wanted Edward to leave.

During the “Kill Bella?” vote, she was in favor of whatever meant Edward would stay.

Carlisle, having failed to get anywhere with talking sense into Edward, sends him home to his mother for an intervention. What happens next is that Esme gives Edward her blessing to eat the delicious girl if he wants to. Now, we can’t know specifically the talk Carlisle and Esme had before this, but I can’t imagine it was this. Also, damn, what a miscommunication.

Esme simply doesn’t have a problem with the deaths of individual humans, and she will put her loved ones above all other things, even if it’s a minor inconvenience. Keeping Bella alive only becomes her priority after Edward makes it clear he wants this.

Now, Carlisle’s standards have been worn down over the centuries, he just wants his family to try not to eat people on purpose, that’s how low the bar is. Tragically for his marriage, Esme is stumbling over said bar.

The further trouble they run into is that I don’t think they’re very compatible people.

Esme means well, but she’s peculiar, to put it extremely nicely. Her ambition in life is to LARP the human life, right down to being a master chef of something her species can’t eat, which could be sweet if she did other things. She doesn’t, the closest she gets is designing homes for her family. There’s being single-minded, and then there’s Esme, who appears to have honed herself into someone who exists only to be the housewife.

This leads to bizarre behavior - for instance in Midnight Sun when Edward has realized he’s in love, he sits around laughing to himself like a lunatic while playing the piano. Something happens with Rosalie, who runs out of the house in humiliation. Esme, responding to all this, gives her infamous “the best and brightest of us all” pep talk.

It’s just such a weird scene, even accounting for the inhumanity of Twilight vampires this is weird.

Mostly, thought, it is Esme’s interests and desires in life that I find so at odds with Carlisle’s. She wants to be an improved human, living the shinier, better, life without actually embracing the inhumanity of vampirism, while Carlisle is doing the human thing because he wants to be a doctor and save lives. Before that, he was travelling the world, living with normal vampires, using his eternity to study and pursue meaning in life. Now, they end up in the same place, with similar goals - wanting to blend in with humans - but the motivation is the polar opposite.

Which in turn means that as the world turns and their lives inevitably change, the way they live will have to change. This will spell trouble.

There’s also me having a strong suspicion these two don’t have much of a physical relationship, if any. Meyer specifically referred to their relationship as spiritual, and that fits the vibe we get from them in the books. Quite notably, Rosalie and Emmett were impossible to be around when they were newlyweds, while Carlisle and Esme weren’t a problem at all.

Not to mention what Esme longed for all those years was very much an ideal of a man, which to me doesn’t immediately point to a very physical attraction.

The Penultimate Peril

Would he cheat on her, you ask. Answer is yes, they’re both cheating emotionally with Edward. No.

He’s with her because he wants to be, and feels responsible for her. More, developing the kinds of feelings necessary for an emotional affair isn’t really on the table for him, since everyone else in the world is either a. one of his kids or the Denali, b. an unrepentant man-eating demon. So, unless Tanya’s feeling frisky, Carlisle doesn’t have anybody to cheat with.

(I’m here defining an emotional affair, which as I understand it is a bit hard to define, as a romantic, but non-physical entanglement. The cheating party has to know their partner wouldn’t be cool with it for it to count in my eyes.)

As for physically cheating on her, nope. God no, not ever. Unless something really convoluted like the plot of Blue Moon unfolded, but that’s really more a case of Esme pimping out her husband to her daughter-in-law, so everyone’s to blame here.

The end

I think the breakup can happen in any number of ways, but I think either way it will be sudden.

These two aren’t going to go “you know, I think we’ve grown apart” because Esme would never acknowledge that nevermind walk up to Carlisle and say it, and if Carlisle realized things aren’t working he’d still want to stick it out for her sake.

I think it’ll be sudden, it’ll happen as the immovable object that is them is hit by an unstoppable force. One will go someplace the other can’t follow. Maybe when the Cullen coven splits down the middle, and they’re on each their own side of the chasm, or maybe some other cause entirely.

It’ll devastate them both, but given the people these two are, I think it’s inevitable.

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle/esme #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #hope you all think the header theme was as funny as i did #a series of unfortunate events aka-#Anonymous #ask

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geejaysmith · 3 years ago

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Further Arcane Thoughts

A follow-up to @ cielos-cambalache ‘s ask, presented in Comedically Disjointed Fashion.

What is it with the ancillary media surrounding League of Legends being, like... good?

I am terrifically torn between wanting to understand this world and these characters, and "do not tell me anything about League of Legends".

For all I know League of Legends has no reason to be more maligned than any other Heated Online Multiplayer Gaming affair (except that Riot Games is a ridiculously toxic workplace with a now-years-long history of sexual harassment, discrimination, and abuse against employees) but also, dunking on it for no reason is fun.

Ekko is so fucking cool and he should be proud of what he and the other Firelights have built. Also kid!Ekko is so precious, I am cry ;a;

All of the women in this show are insanely hot.

As An Older Sister, I want to hug Jinx and tell her she isn't broken and that she is worthy of love and that her past doesn't need to define her. But also, as an audience member, I Love Angst. And Jinx is good at Causing Angst. I love her.

Speaking of angst and Jinx and Vi's Family Drama: super-excited for the possibility of Warwick making a future appearance!

Watch me drop way too much money on a Jinx nendoroid some time in the next 6 to 8 weeks.

I have some disjointed pre-thoughts about the recurring motif of "protagonist sets off explosion right as people with designs against them are attempting to break down a door", which are right now in the phase of pointing that out and going "yup, that's a thing. Not sure what to make of it yet but that sure is a thing."

I think I may actually just need to start taking notes or making a flowchart to keep track of all the Political Machinations happening, good lord.

Me, gesticulating frantically in Kat's DMs about how no, actually, Zaun's layout as a physical place actually makes perfect sense, the cinematography is mostly just focused on maintaining the Feel of the place as opposed to explicitly laying out geographic continuity for the viewer.

I am making a Chart.

All of the women in this show are insanely hot.

I cross-referenced which characters in Arcane are also playable in-game and it led to some interesting discoveries.

1. So on first viewing, my immediate thought about every new Hextech device Viktor and Jayce showed Heimerdinger Yoda’s Fursona was “Hm! Well, these technological marvels will surely never be used as weapons (and definitely not by law enforcement cracking down on dissendents against the state)”, and then later had the realization that yes, all of those devices appear to be used in-game by player characters as their Signature Weapons - even the one that didn’t get used in the raid on the Shimmer plant.

2. I am surprised that Ambessa Medarda isn’t a playable character, and extremely concerned for Mel’s immediate wellbeing after learning that she isn’t one either.

3. So the mage that saved Jayce and his mom isn’t just Some Wizard Who Sure Was There Super Randomly And Then Was Never Mentioned Again. But then again if you have no familiarity with LoL you have no way to know that, so it’s infinitely funnier to just picture him being like

Above meme is also applicable to the Council’s Super Hostile Attitude About Magic, incidentally.

I still have no idea why Jayce and his mom were in Antarctica though. Again, Do Not Try To Tell Me About League Of Legends, but what was up with that?

I can’t believe Yoda’s Fursona has a first name and it’s fucking Cecil.

He looks like his name would be Cecil, tbh.

Semi-related: I know the Creepy Bald Mad Scientist is named Singed, but it’s funnier to call him Magic Steroid Hilbert.

All of the women in this show are insanely hot, and I for one would be super down to be one of the twinks giving Ambessa a Sensual Naked Hot Tub Massage.

As a teenager, Vi went toe-to-toe with, what, about half-dozen of Silco’s goons? All of whom were both larger than her and armed. And right up until the Magic Steroids got involved, she had them handled! Love her.

Given Vi’s full first name is Violet... did her and Powder’s parents name them after their hair colors?

How common is natural blue/pink hair, anyway? How does that work, genetically?

Hey Marcus, I get you’re a fucking cop, and also that you immediately grokked that ratting Vander’s kids out to Silco made you a card-carrying member of the Leopards Eating People’s Faces Party but what the actual fuck made you think it was any degree of okay to stick a teenager whose family you just helped get killed in a dark hole without even recording that she was being held there??

It’s kind of funny, you know, that Jinx’s Corruption Arc begins and ends the same way? She reflexively takes action to protect her sister, and ends up killing her adoptive family in the process. Even happens in the same place, to boot.

And with Marcus on the bridge, she’s even 3 for 3 for Dad Murder! Collateral Dad-mage, if you will. I hope Mr. Kiramman wasn’t home when she snatched Caitlyn...

Jinx quotes “Be what they fear, Jinx” to mock Silco but she really does do a good job of becoming an Unsettling Figure. I personally am a big fan of her blank-eyed staredown response to attempts to intimidate her and the way she’ll soundlessly appear the fuck out of nowhere and you will absolutely not notice her until she wants to be noticed.

I should really do a shot-by-shot comparison of the opening scene of episode 1 vs. Jinx walking down the same bridge after exploding all those cops...

You know it’s also kind of funny that she is so good at stealth when her signature weapons are bombs and a minigun.

#gill watches arcane

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

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Oooh, I just saw the big about prompts!

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

(Can be inspiration or an actual quote; do what ya want! :P)

The world ended on a Saturday, and it wasn’t Danny’s fault. Even if that Saturday happened to be his sixteenth birthday.

Okay, maybe that was a bit overdramatic. But, honestly, neither he nor anyone else he’d ever spoken to knew why or how things had turned out this way. Just that, one morning, reality shook, shuddered, and took a few steps to the left.

Humanity woke to green-streaked skies, a rainbow sun, and a lot more universe than they were used to. So did ghosts.

This was a problem. It might even be deemed the problem. Humans and ghosts didn’t exactly get along, and even when neither the ghosts nor the humans involved particularly wanted to fight, the new laws of nature and the few who did want to fight tended to ruin things for everyone else. (Cough, GIW, cough, Walker, cough.)

Hence the end of the world. Or, at least, most large-scale governments.

It could have been worse.

Amity Park stopped being a city that day, fragmented with Ghost Zone wilderness, landscape and spatial dimensions shattered in a spiderweb centered on Fentonworks, the portal a wellspring of wild power and unpredictable translocations. Danny had worried that the portal had been the cause of the whole thing, but Amity Park was far from the only place with similar issues (look at New York), and Danny eventually was able to accept that not every bad ghost-related thing that happened was on him.

(Probably.)

Honestly, once everything calmed down a bit, the new world was much more comfortable, physically and mentally, for Danny to live in. Which was weird, but made sense. The new world was split between human and ghost, just like him. It was everyone else who was uncomfortable, now.

Which, again, he felt guilty about, but, yeah. He couldn’t do anything about that, so feeling guilty was counterintuitive. Thank you, tiny Jazz in his head.

It was Saturday again. Time for the market fair.

“Mom and Dad are already out?” asked Danny, leaning over the banister.

“Yeah,” said Jazz, not looking up from her work transcribing an old ghost text into something more palatable to human eyes. She adjusted her green lenses to sit closer to her eyes. “An hour or two ago. Some guys from Chicago came in last night, apparently, and they wanted to get a head start.”

“Okay,” said Danny. “I’m going, too. You want anything?”

“Nope. I’d be going myself if I did,” said Jazz.

“You sure? Nothing for dinner?”

“Nope, I’m all set.”

“Cool,” said Danny, padding towards the door. He pulled his nice, dark coat, the one he’d gotten from Dora, off the hook, and shrugged into it, pulling up the hood.

“No shoes today?” asked Jazz, who had finally looked up.

“Eh,” said Danny. “I guess not. Doesn’t really feel like a shoe kind of day.” He flexed his toes.

“Well, avoid blackberries, then,” said Jazz.

“They should avoid me,” joked Danny. “Good luck with that book!”

“Thanks,” said Jazz, waving as Danny left.

Fentonworks was the same tall, brick-and-UFO building as it had always been, but now it stood alone on top of a small hill rising from a distinctly purple forest. The dark grass waved back and forth like the tentacles of a sea anemone. Bright green portal streaks, cracks in reality, stood out against the foliage, along with a few other buildings that had once belonged to the Fentons’ neighborhood. The sun was blue today, but Danny predicted it would be green by nightfall.

Danny walked down the path, the dirt on it declining to adhere to Danny’s feet. He hummed, quietly, a tune he half-remembered from before the apocalypse. He would not be walking all the way to the market fair, it was too far. His parents had taken the Speeder.

Danny, on the other hand, had a shortcut.

He reached one of the portal-fractures and passed through to a part of the forest where the trees whispered to one another. He took a moment to reorient himself, and continued to the next portal fracture.

As far as he knew, he was the only person who could reliably travel like this. He could have flown, but the market fair was busy, and he preferred to maintain his peaceful life. Phantom was still a celebrity in Amity Park. Even more so now, than before, as ghosts were no longer shot on sight.

Some ghosts even came to Amity Park’s market fair.

He walked through a wider-than-usual fracture which deposited him just outside the main fragment of Amity Park, near the erstwhile mall. The mall and its attached parking lot being the place the market fair took place.

It was busy. There were trucks stamped with the seal of Illinois parked on the edges, presumably belonging to the delegation from Chicago. There seemed to be more ghosts than usual as well, enough of them to make Danny shiver. Had they come from Chicago, or was it just a coincidence? If they had, that would be nice. Chicago had a lot of local influence, and was one of the places that was still trying to hold together something like a national government. If they accepted ghosts, others would follow more readily.

Peace between the two worlds in places other than Amity Park would be very nice.

Danny wandered down the paths of the market fair, not in any particular hurry to get to his parents’ booth. He was always more interested in the other things at the fair. Even if he rarely bought anything.

People seemed to be mostly moving in one direction. No, they were being drawn in one direction, with people tugging their companions onward. Danny, not having anything better to do, went with the flow.

Which led back to where the Chicago delegation was set up. Several people were standing in front of the trucks, arguing.

“How can you lose an entire bevy of ghosts?” demanded the man who appeared to be in charge.

The target of his ire merely shrugged.

“Can’t lose people like that, bub!” shouted someone from the crowd. There was a titter of laughter.

“Didn’t you have a big, fancy announcement, fed?”

More laughter.

“Yeah, what did you want to say?” This voice had an echo to it, and the the man looked extremely aggrieved.

Nevertheless, he took a deep breath. “We were led to believe,” he said, cheek jumping, “by certain ghosts, that there was a way to negotiate with the ghosts and... reverse this nonsense.”

Wow. So, Chicago got scammed. That could have repercussions. Danny hoped Amity Park wouldn’t see too much of the fallout.

“Wouldn’t you jump on any chance to stop this?” demanded the man in response to the jeers, gesturing at the sky and its pulsing bands of light.

“Tell us a better story!” shouted Ember, who had struck up a much more cordial relationship with Amity Park after the apocalypse. “One that we’ll remember!”

The man turned away, throwing his hands in the air. “Go find them!” he shouted, presumably to his subordinates.

The crowd broke up.

Danny was curious. It was one of his defining characteristics, both as a human and as a ghost. He followed one of the Chicagoans as they walked into the market turning this way and that.

“So,” he said, “what story was your boss fed?”

The woman jumped and looked down at him, disconcerted. (Yes, he was short. That wasn’t his fault. Except that it probably was, via the portal accident.)

The woman sighed. “Why not, it’ll be out before too long. We were told that the rightful king of ghosts was in hiding here, or something stupid like that. I don’t think they ever said he could fix the world, even. Only that he could be negotiated with.” She kicked the ground. “This is so stupid. There’s no ghost king. This is never going to get fixed.”

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Danny.

“How old even were you when it happened. Ten?” asked the woman.

“Excuse me, I was sixteen,” said Danny, crossing his arms.

“That’s cute,” said the woman, dragging her hand down her face. “You’re like thirteen, tops. Not nineteen. Jesus. Go bother someone else, kid.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Well, you aren’t wrong that there’s no ghost king. Last guy who called himself that got beaten up and locked in a sarcophagus forever.”

Then, just to mess with her, because she’d been rude, Danny turned invisible and left before she turned around.

Now... He should probably try to warn people about the scam artist ghosts. Or would they know from the other people watching?

Danny flicked back into visibility and continued perusing the various stalls, making small talk with the owners, bringing up the Chicagoans when it was appropriate.

He was passing by the covered entrance of the mall, one of the most crowded spots in the market fair, when his ghost sense went off, indicating an unfamiliar ghost was nearby. He scanned the crowd for the ghost. He didn’t have to look very hard. Strange ghosts tended to draw eyes, even in Amity Park.

Especially ones that looked like this. Inhumanly tall, cloaked, and moving smoothly. Glimpses under their hoods showed faces riddled with decay- or at least the appearance of decay. The three of them held instruments. Flute, drum, and summoning bell.

Danny stood to the side to let them pass. After all, they weren’t doing anything bad as far as he could see.

They did not. Instead, they stopped in front of Danny. Typical.

Then they started playing their instruments. And kneeling.

Aaaand the crowd was getting bigger. There was the person from Chicago, too. Could he escape without turning invisible with all this attention on him?

Probably not without showcasing his ghost powers. There were people who knew him in this crowd. Like Paulina. And Star.

“Um,” said Danny. “Hi?”

The leading ghost looked up as the sun’s light turned emerald green.

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw the Chicagoan’s jaw drop.

“I think you might have the wrong guy,” said Danny. “I’m not anyone’s prince.”

The ghost grinned, sharp and white. “We came to give our blessings, my prince. You do not need to accept them for them to exist. We offer, also, our service and our hope in this new world that you are so suited for.”

Yeah. This was going to be a problem.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #prompt #prompt fill

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cowboyjen68 · 3 years ago

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Hi Jen, I love your page, how kind you are, and the guidance you give. I’m struggling with my identity and this was the safest place I could think of to ask for advice. So for the past 5-6 years I’ve identified as bisexual, I’ve had experiences with women but more experiences with men mostly because that was more available. I was recently-ish broken up with by a guy I dated for almost two years, moved across the country to live with, and I thought it would be more long term and I’ve been struggling to adjust to the shift in my life/future. Now that I’m trying to work through it all, I think that one of the issues was that I was treating the relationship as if I was with a woman. I’m now questioning whether I’ve ever really felt true attraction to men or if I sort of tricked/deluded myself into feeling that way because of social pressure/the normalization of heterosexual attraction. I’ve also realized that I really don’t ever want to be with a man again on any romantic/physical level. Is identifying as a lesbian despite past attraction to men an ok thing to do? Or should I stick with the bisexual label despite it not fitting how I feel any longer?

First, let me say this very clearly. Past actions do not define our natural sexual orientation in a world where we are given very little information about same sex attraction and very often have no modeling in our formative years.

When I was younger I didn’t really know I was different... there was a short period of time when I thought all girls liked girls and we just out grew it. Mom reinforced that by telling me around the age of 12 that is was a common phase and don’t worry about it. I know she meant well and it can be a phase but her being so sure about it sort of messed me up. It is like everyone saying Blue is the only color and you see blue.. but you see and like green better.. You figure since no one is bringing it up you are either the only one OR it goes away and eventually the green turns blue. So.. you wait. And ignore your intuition. You doubt yourself.

It is always okay to be wrong. It is okay to not know exactly what is going on. Experience and time can give you so much more information about yourself. Our sexual orientation does not change but our understanding of it does.

Think of this. Lesbians have an active attraction to other women. We desire to be them with feelings of excitement and happiness. Any perceived attraction to men, for lesbians is passive, based on what society tells us we should like. “Find a nice boy”. syndrome. So we mistake attraction to a kind, handsome man for sexual interest when in fact we don’t actively desire intimacy with him. More like we are finding someone tolerable. Ask yourself, were you attracted to the men you were with? Was there active, exciting passion? Or were they just a nice man who you like and so you passively accepted that sex was his expectation, societal expectation and you fulfilled that duty to him?

Either way.. you don’t have to date men as a bisexual, There is no law stating that a bi women ever has to be with a man., Not once, not again, not for any reason. You are right to set any boundaries you want to when it comes to sex, relationships and sexuality.

If you felt active attraction to men, you are bisexual. Own that and love who you are. BUT if you were a lesbian then and just unsure of that truth , you are lesbian now and you can love and use lesbian with pride and happiness.

Also... know that you are NOT the only one and this is a common experience for many lesbians and bisexuals. We just are not given enough modeling and correct information to be fine with whatever out innate sexuality is..

We are not given permission to sort it out. One side wants us to Just Know (our community) and one side wants us to never know. (the world).

#lesbian #bisexual #active vs passive attraction

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sashas4t · 4 years ago

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Flutzes: How Big an Issue are They?

There is a common belief within skating fans that flutzes (or lutz jumps taken off from a flat or inside edge) are most common among Russian ladies. I have always believed the opposite, but as I am currently taking a statistics course, I thought it would be fun to see how my beliefs, and the common belief, hold up against percentages and proportions. Because I don’t have unlimited time on my hands, I will only be looking into every ladies skater at Russian, Japanese and US Nationals and analyzing their lutz edges (I wanted to do the Korean ladies and I might mention a few just for fun but as Korean Nationals was postponed until next week I’ve decided to leave them out of this for now). Next time I might return with a junior edition (since flutzes seem to be rather common amongst the Russian juniors).

To Begin: What is a Lutz?

The lutz jump is one of the six types of figure skating jumps. The ISU defines the lutz as “a toe-pick assisted jump with an entrance from a back outside edge and landing on the back outside edge of the opposite foot”. Here are two textbook examples of what a lutz should look like:

(The landing here isn’t great - see the ice flying, but the takeoff is just perfection)

Both of these jumps, and any good lutz jump, have deep outside edges. Another qualification one may bring up is prerotation, but this post is mostly just analyzing whether or not certain skaters flutz - not whether or not their lutz is textbook overall. So there are a lot of skaters to be mentioned that have good outside edges on their lutzes, but their lutzes can’t be considered “textbook” because they prerotate far more than the acceptable amount. But that is a whole other controversial topic that really deserves a post of its own.

So what is a bad lutz then?

In this jump, the skater takes off from an inside edge, instead of the outside edge that the other two skaters use. There are some other issues with this particular jump, but the inside edge is the issue which is most glaring.

The Russian Ladies

Here are my conclusions drawn from Russian Nationals. Interestingly enough, besides Konstantinova, every other skater with an outside edge had a very clear outside edge. Out of the ladies with flat edges, some looked more inside (Samodurova’s namely but also Liza Nugumanova’s), while others looked more outside (Kostina’s), but because they all looked flat more than inside/outside, I grouped them together.

The Japanese Ladies

I only looked at the 24 ladies who qualified for the free skate, and for many of them I ended up having to use videos from the National Winter Sports because JSF doesn’t post full videos of their skates at Japanese Nationals to YouTube. I also couldn’t find any videos of Natsu Suzuki, so I could not include her in this analysis.

The American Ladies

Sadly there were a lot of American ladies that I couldn’t find videos of - so this is a rather short list (and probably not very representative).

Analysis:

In the Russian ladies - 47.1% have true lutzes.

In the Japanese ladies - 52.2% have true lutzes.

In the American ladies - 71.4% have true lutzes.

It’s really interesting that so many American ladies have good lutz edges. This is either because I could not find videos of many competitors, or because some competitors who have problematic edges did not jump the lutz (Starr is a good example). However, out of the American ladies, few have “deep” outside edges. Many of them do have “good” outside edges, as in it is very clear that they do, indeed, have outside edges, however few seem to warp the laws of physics like the most textbook examples do. Interestingly, the panel at US Nationals did call out many of the problematic lutzes with lower level skaters, while blatantly ignoring Bradie and Mariah’s clear flat edges.

Out of the Japanese ladies with outside edges, not that many have “deep” outside edges either. I would say Rika, Tomoe and Honoka have really great deep edges. A few of the ladies I wrote as outside really have iffy edges (Wakaba’s probably the best example - sometimes its outside, sometimes it looks more flat).

Out of the Russian ladies with outside edges, many have good outside edges. Except for Stanislava, all the ladies with outside edges have very clear outside edges (unlike in the other two countries oddly). I used to assume that coaches played a big part in whether or not a skater had an outside edge, but it appears this data says otherwise. The most interesting thing is that the slow motion replays almost always caught the lutzes in the best angle (the same angle as Boyang’s 4Lz in the first gif), and yet, very few lutzes were called.

For example, for the Tutberidze Girls, three have unclear edges and 1 has a good outside edge, however, Sasha Trusova used to be an Eteri girl as well, and also has an outside edge. Same goes for Mishin, who was often mistakingly thought to teach good technique based off of Liza Tuktamysheva’s textbook lutz. But as Samodurova and Guliakova are also Mishin’s student, it appears that this technique does not come from his camp. These conclusions make rational sense as Mishin and Eteri usually do not coach skaters since youth, but rather often take in already established skaters. Eteri has been known to only accept students with their triples. If we were to look into some younger juniors, or some retired (switched disciplines) skaters I think I could present one coach who has consistently presented ladies with correct edges - Panova. Besides Frolova who has a problematic lutz edges, many of her other skaters - Tsibinova, Tarakanova, Sotskova, Sinitsyna, Kanysheva, Kostyuk etc - have had correct flip and lutz edges. This would require some more analysis though.

While it looks like the US ladies clearly have a lead in this category, due to certain circumstances, it is unreasonable to say that overall, American ladies are less prone to flutzing just based off this data. I would do a 1-Prop Z Test but these statistics really do not check any of the assumptions or conditions necessary for such a computation.

Overall, it is really interesting that around 50% of the skaters at Russian Nationals and Japanese Nationals have problematic lutzes. It’s that widespread an issue. No, it’s not just Evgenia Medvedeva or Mao Asada or Anna Shcherbakova that suffer from it. Yes, they aren’t (well, Zhenya and Anya aren’t at least) being punished for it, but neither are a good percentage of the others who have problematic lutzes.

For reference, at Japanese Nationals, only two lutz calls were given in the SP (! for Yoshida and Uramatsu). The tech panel was much harsher in the FS with flip and lutz calls galore (Kaori got “e”, Rika Hongo got “e” and Uramtaus got “e”).

At Russian Nationals, in the SP only three edge calls were given - Trusova’s 3F, Guliakova’s 3Lz and Onishchenko’s 3Lz (which got “e”). In the FS, six edge calls were given (two on flips, two !’s for Guliakova’s 3Lz and one ! and one “e” for Onishchenko’s 3Lz). It is true that out of the lutzes at the competition, Onishchenko’s were the most problematic. However, Daria Usacheva’s were also taken off from an inside edge, and she not only was not called for the three lutzes attempted, but was given high positive GOE for many.

At US Nationals, Ikenishi and Murdock both received ��e” calls on their lutzes. Ikenishi receiving one the free skate and Mudock receiving two - one in the SP and one FS. There were no other lutz calls for the event.

Of course, after watching so many events, assuming that flat edges will get ! calls and inside edges will get “e” calls is dreaming of the impossible. At best, really severe flutzes done by lower level skaters may be called, inside edges will be called “!” and flat edges will often be let go with no call nor deduction whatsoever. And while I looked at National protocols, it is true that these results are paralleled in international protocols as well.

So, in conclusion - Russian ladies do not flutz any more than Japanese ladies do. And flutzes are becoming quite a severe problem. Several of the skaters at the top have problematic lutz edges, and it seems like this issue will persist given how the rising generation seems to be struggling with lutz edges as well.

Many use these uncalled Russian flutzes as evidence of Russian overscoring, but in response to those comments I guide you to the PCS section of scoring. That is where the atrocities happen. Most of the top skaters won’t be punished for flutzing, however Russians are gifted extra PCS for existing, while the Japanese, with their excellent skating skills and attention to detail, seem to be getting punished with lower PCS (especially those prone to inconsistency).

#figure skating #figure skating analysis #evgenia medvedeva #Anna shcherbakova #rika kihira #Alexandra trusova #Kamila valieva #Kaori sakamoto #russian nationals 2021 #Japanese nationals 2020 #Japanese nationals 2021 #please don't treat this as an invitation to hate on anyone who flutzes #they are all amazing skaters and ISU is incompetent #or rather RusFed and JSF and USFSA are incompetent #actually USFSA looks pretty competent here but still #us nationals 2021

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athrialuxegna · 3 years ago

Text

Stronger than she thinks Part 3

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Click here to listen to the song used in this chapter, it’s Antidote by Faith Marie. (I love this song so much!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

At 5 a.m I get up and leave my apartment. My feet drove me to the leaders' quarter. I felt out of place in this dark hallway. I walked up to door 655. I stood there, looking at the door as if it would come to life and eat me alive. It opened itself and I almost thought I did it by using telekinesis. I was almost disappointed to find Eric on the other side.

"What're you doing here so early?" His rasped voice indicated that he just woke up.

All I could see was his head and a glimpse of his naked torso. I could have waited a few minutes before coming up here. I chastised myself to keep my eyes from wandering along with his defined muscles. I cleared my throat and scratched my neck, my eyes fixated on the door handle.

"I came here because I want to report to Max. Brent ran into me yesterday and... and he'll do it again I'm sure of it."

Eric didn't say anything, he made a sign for me to wait. He let the door slightly open and I heard shuffle around the apartment. He came back fully dressed then he let me in. I stepped inside the large apartment. As usual, all doors were closed. I stood still in the middle of the main room. Eric turned to me.

"Coffee?" He asked.

"Sure." I accepted.

I sat on the couch, twirling my fingers in an attempt to calm my nerves. Eric came back with two cups, he gave me one which I took thankfully. I took a sip of the dark liquid, it burnt my throat in a comforting way.

"What did Brent say to you?" The question made me grimace although I knew it was coming.

"Four found me to tell me that he and you saw what happened from the control room."

Eric's body tensed up at the mention, he opened his mouth but I beat him to it.

"I ran off and bumped into Brent. The bastard wouldn't let go of me, he thought I'd ran into him on purpose to... fuck him." I spat the last part in disgust. "Now, tell me why you didn't inform me that two persons have seen my rape?" I asked, my voice held all the betrayal I've felt since I'd known.

Eric sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes in a tired motion. I couldn't pinpoint why I was feeling so damn bad that Eric lied to me. Sure it was pretty big information that he kept from me but I knew it was deeper. He was the only one I confessed to. Hell, I didn't even understand why I told him but it implied that I trusted him enough. It felt like an eternity before I heard his deep voice again.

"I didn't want to let you know not to scare you away. It was easier if you'd confessed yourself." He explained plainly.

"I don't stand lies, Eric. Even minor ones can have disastrous consequences. The cold hard truth is better to know no matter what." I said more harshly than intended.

"I didn't lie to you when I said that I won't do anything about this without your consent. I had to play fool around Brent, it was hell not to punch him until he bled out." He admitted.

I was surprised that Eric would talk about how he felt with me. We had regular contacts, nothing out of work until last week. Something had changed between us, some sort of untold agreement that we could rely on each other more than professionally.

"One more lie and I won't trust you anymore." My voice was firm.

Eric nodded sharply, agreeing that no more lies would come out of his mouth. A casual silence settled in while we were sipping our black coffee. I needed to drink this or I'd faint in Max's office. I was content that we sold that trust issue before getting in the lion's den.

"What are you doing tonight?" He questioned out of nowhere.

I wasn't sure how to reply or how to take this. So far, I'd doubt that Eric would be one to take advantage of the situation. I raised a questioning eyebrow, my grip on the cup tightened ever so slightly. Eric's eyes flickered to my hands then plunged into my emerald orbs.

"A friend of mine has a band, they have rehearsal tonight. You should come." He elaborated.

I had a hard time imagining Eric's friends. He was mostly alone or with colleagues when I crossed paths with him. I nodded quietly. I was too awestruck to utter a word. A small smile crept upon his lips, enlightening his gaze. A knock at the door broke the peace in the apartment. The leader took a second before getting up. He knew what was going on apparently. Four came in view, a worried expression all over his tense face. His eyes found mine, a shadow crossed his dark eyes.

"Eric, we have to do something about this." Four's voice was nervous as he poked his head in my direction.

"I'm well aware Four. Chris just accepted to report this to Max."

Eric's demeanor had changed. His body was tensed, his jaw clenched and his eyes threw daggers. I was aware of their rivalry, the reason for this male show was beyond me though. They always were at each other's throats. The tension between these two was practically unbearable.

"No, Brent did it again." He said sternly.

The words made my blood run cold. I jumped up and walked to stand in front of Four. My eyes searched him for any sign of lies. Finding none, anger took the upper hand. I also felt guilty for some reason. Maybe if I hadn't run into him he wouldn't have gone after another girl. I shoved Four to be able to run out of the apartment. I had to find Brent and beat the life out of him. My brain numbed all emotions aside from the pulsating rage. I knew where to find him. I barged in the training room, panting and fuming.

Brent stopped in mid-push-up to look at me. A seductive smirk crept up his face. I stomped towards him and took advantage of his position to throw my foot right into his head. The cracking noise of his nose and his scream just fueled my wrath. I took him by the collar, my eyes burning with hate as I stared at his pained face.

"I'll kill you motherfucker!" I yelled in his face.

I punched him over and over. I couldn't stop myself, even when blood started to pour from his mouth and nose. His face was covered with it. All my pent-up emotions were thrown at him. The loud doors banged open. Heavy footsteps echoed in the room. I continued to punch Brent's unconscious body. Large hands wrapped around my shoulders to stop me. I wriggled in the unknown grasp, afraid that Brent's friend came to rescue him. I hadn't even checked the area, few Dauntless members had stop training to look at the commotion.

"Stop it, Chris!" Eric's stern voice made me stiffen.

He dragged me off Brent then let me go. I was panting, hair wild and eyes wide opened, I must've looked like some psychopath. My eyes darted to the ground when I saw the disappointed looks of Max, Four, and Harrison. Everyone gave me that look lately. Shame invaded my brain, my cheeks burnt from the sudden surge of emotion. I had been carried away, and sure, I'll pay the price.

"Christine, an investigation will be open. The other victim had already pressed charges against Brent. He will be judged by Dauntless law. You're off duty from now on. Your behavior will not be held against you seeing the circumstances but this is the last time you beat up a fellow Dauntless member." Max's voice boomed.

I looked at him and nodded. My breathing and my beating heart had calmed down. I was devastated to no end, but they didn't have to know that. Harrison wanted to say something but Max made a sign for him to take Brent out of the training room. Then the elder leaders took their leave. Eric stood still, his hard gaze burning a hole in my skull. I dared a glance in his direction then sighed. My bloody hands hurt me, not as much as my shattered ego.

"I told you to fight me not to kill Brent. Chris, you're running down the wrong path. Max won't forget this incident even though it's understandable. Don't let this bastard ruin your life."

I couldn't utter a word, I felt empty and full all at once. Eric's presence prevented me from breaking down once more. My wet eyes met his blue ones, disappointment evident in his irises. If he turned his back on me I had no one else to rely on.

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered. "I didn't intend to do this... I couldn't stop myself..."

"Meet me in the Pit at eight tonight." He said then turned on his heels.

Relief washed over me. He still supported me. I went back to my apartment to wash the morning away. I ate lunch at my place. I played the guitar all afternoon. It kept my mind at ease. I began to find some lyrics to put my feelings into words. It was harder than I thought to write a song. My efforts finally paid but one string broke in my fingers. I headed to the Pit to find the music store.

Music was a huge part of Dauntless. It didn't seem at first but every pretext was good to party. It was odd to think that Amity and Dauntless couldn't stand each other as they shared similar rituals and common interests in musical arts. I looked at the racks to find the right box of strings.

"Chris!" Gary's voice called me.

I turned around to see him by the counter, he was waiting for customers. I waved at him, took the box I was looking for, and headed to him. His short green hair stood out from his Dauntless black attire and his big brown beard. His slim figure seemed even frailer behind the big counter. Gary was the musical expert of the compound. He knew all music history from the beginning to nowadays. I used to hang around his store for hours to custom my guitar. It was only a few weeks ago but it felt like ages.

"Hey, Gary!"

"It's been a while since you've come here, sweetheart. I'm happy to see that you're playing again." A smile beamed on his face and his eyes sparkled with joy.

"Yes, I needed a little break.," I replied lightly.

"Can't wait to hear you play sometime. And I heard from a little bird that you have a nice voice to hear." He remarked, giving me a wink.

"I'm not good enough to show my skills but I'm working on it. This little bird lied, I sing in the shower but that's it." I replied casually.

"Your fellow initiates always brag about your singing skills, honey. It's more than just shower gibberish."

It was true that I had sung my ass off in the dormitories showers during my initiation. My fellow initiates didn't stop me so it became a habit. They would praise me and ask for songs from time to time during parties. They were the only Dauntless to have ever heard me singing. It was for fun mostly and to let some steam off during those stressful days.

"Alright, I'll think about it, Gary." I smiled at Gary.

The conversation ended up here, I paid and looked at my watch to see that it was seven-thirty. I had time to eat before meeting Eric. I went to my apartment to drop the strings' box then headed straight to the cafeteria. It was not full so I found a sit at an empty table. I ate with little appetite. My eyes scanned the half-empty tables nearby. Jenna and Kate were nowhere to be found. I sighed deeply. Were they ghosting me in return?

Someone sat next to me. I turned around to see Four. I rolled my eyes and resumed eating as if he wasn't there. I didn't want to talk to him. We ate in silence for a while.

"You shouldn't have done that." He blurted out.

"No shit, Sherlock." I scoffed. "If you're here to lecture me, it's not the time Four." I didn't even look at him.

"I don't judge you, Chris. I understand more than you think." His voice became quiet.

I remembered the rumors about his abusive father, Marcus Eaton. It was different in many ways but I guessed the traumatic consequences were similar. We were both destroyed, broken, and beaten. I could also talk to the other victim, she could entirely relate to my experience. However, I felt uncomfortable around Four. We fell in silence once more. I finished my plate and get up. Finally, I looked at him.

"Thanks, Four. But I don't want to talk about it."

I didn't let him time to respond and turned on my heels to put my plate away. It was nearly eight. I walked to the Pit. Life was buzzing around, Dauntless members were laughing, fighting, and hanging around. I smiled at the overwhelming energy. It made me feel alive and a part of something big. A large figure in my back made me turn around. Eric stood there, his Dauntless attire had changed to a more casual outfit. He wore a button-up shirt and black jeans. I bit my lip at the sight. Eric smirked at my reaction.

"You didn't tell me we had to dress up," I remarked casually.

"My leader's attire has been ruined today. I was at the Child Care service, it turned out pretty messy." He explained with an amused tone.

I raised a curious eyebrow. I almost forgot that Eric ran the Child Care service. It was a place where abandoned children and orphans were raised and taken care of. Picturing Eric with children made me laugh inwardly. The tough leader's image would be shattered into millions of pieces. I wondered how he was with the kids. I didn't think Max would approve if he treated them as initiates.

"I wish I was here to witness our ruthless leader handle children." I laughed.

"You don't know those children, they're little devils sometimes." He muttered under his breath though a small smile grazed his lips.

It was weird to see Eric look fond of children. A man appeared next to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder, a broad smile on his lips.

"We're about to begin." He said cheerfully.

He had intense dark green eyes, it reminded me of the pin forest I had seen in my geographic books at school. His imposing figure matched Eric's even though he had slim muscles. His face was round like one of a child, he had crooked teeth and seemed younger than Eric. The leader turned to his friend and nodded.

"Sure Lex, we're coming."

"The famous Chris, pleasure to meet you." Lex turned to me and bowed before me.

"Famous?" I asked dumbfoundedly.

I feared someone had already spread the word about my rape. Lex laughed heartedly at my wide-eyed face.

"Nothing to worry about, I'm Josh's friend. He praised your singing skills so much, I couldn't stop him." He explained, his big smile always on his lips.

My cheeks turn a dark red at the mention of singing. Eric's eyes locked on me, I could feel his intense stare. I laughed nervously and shrugged my shoulders.

"Oh, well, it's been years since my initiation. I can't believe that anyone remembered this."

"Just so you know they all miss your voice." He winked at me then walked away.

"So you sing."

I turned to Eric, fiddling with my fingers.

"Sort of, I sang in the shower all the time during initiation. It kept me sane from stress." I admitted.

"Interesting." He muttered more to himself than to me.

We entered a secluded bar where a makeshift stage had been set up. The band was already in place, testing the sound before playing. There were few people, some I knew like Josh, Matthew, and Grey. All three were in my initiation class. As soon as we step into the room, silence fell. All eyes turned on us. Eric sent them a look and they all came back to their conversations.

"Chris, it's good to see you here." Matthew greeted me.

"Hey, guys" I smiled at the three men.

They had got stronger and they became real Dauntless men throughout the years. They were in the same patrol squad, real brothers. They came from different families that had been friends for years, they grew up together and didn't part ways at any point. Same as Jenna, Kate, and I. Eric stood next to me, hands in his pockets, not paying attention to the conversation.

"There's free time after the rehearsal, anyone can play on the stage. I hope we'll see you up there." Matthew said enthusiastically.

"Don't count on it, I'm not quite ready to sing outside dormitories," I replied truthfully.

"Maybe you'll change your mind." Grey retorted optimistically.

When the trio had an idea it was nearly impossible to take their mind elsewhere. I rolled my eyes even though a small smile found its way on my lips. Lex called everyone to get attention.

"Let's go!" He shouted.

Music blared through the speakers around the stage. Vibrations surged through my body. Eric placed a hand on my shoulder, I flinched a little at the sudden contact. His eyes narrowed and he seemed thoughtful. I didn't really fear Eric, but I couldn't help but react badly to all physical contact.

"You want something to drink?"

I nodded in response then he disappeared at the countertop to order something. Music always eased my soul. My body moved slightly to the beat. I couldn't bring myself to go party last Friday because Brent would be here. Now there was no way for him to found me. I hoped he was rotting in a dirty cell in the depths of the compound.

Eric returned with two drinks. I took a sip, alcohol burnt my throat and I felt light-headed. I wasn't a drinker, I preferred to smoke but it was taboo in Dauntless. Many smokers would go on the roof or at the train racks not to be bothered. Zeke and Uriah Pedrad were notorious to sell weed nonetheless, leadership didn't mind as long as it didn't interfere with the faction's balance.

It was pleasant to let go. I began to dance once my drink finished. Alcohol intoxicated me. Eric joined me at some point, after his fifth drink or so. We were close, closer than ever. Our eyes were connected and couldn't let go, his large hands on my waist kept me against him. I lost track of time. The music came to a stop and we both quit our odd trance-like connection. I adverted my gaze to the ground and distance myself from Eric. When I glanced back at him, his eyes bored a darker tone. The same one Brent had when he was over me. Images flashed before my eyes. Unable to control the flowing memories, I clenched my fists and shook my head to get rid of them.

"Chris?" Eric called.

I needed to expel all of this. The trauma, emotions, memories. My body moved to the stage, all eyes were on me. I sat at the piano, my fingers caressed the instrument lightly. Jenna taught me to play a long time ago. I felt alone in the room to focus on my desire to pour my heart out. I began to play notes, I knew the song by heart. I opened my mouth and my voice filled the room.

“Finding refuge in my own lies How are you? I'm doing alright Small talk is a great disguise Just let me be Just let me be

Empty thoughts start to crowd my mind Am I only living, living to survive? Shake it off but I've lost the drive Just let me be Just let me be

Let me be okay

No one knows what goes on up inside my head There's a new kind of poison and it's starting to spread No one knows what goes on up inside my head They don't think I need help But I'm scaring myself

I just want to be okay I just want to be okay

All the voices in my head are coming to life They're getting louder and I'm, I'm terrified How do you run from your own mind? Is this what I've become? Take it back, what have I done?”

The last notes died in the silent room. A round of applause erupted from the little crowd. Josh, Matthew, and Grey were thrilled by my showcase. I found Eric's eyes on me, he knew all too well that the lyrics held some truth. I get up and walked out of the bar. I wanted to be alone. Alcohol had worn off during my performance. Emotions ate at me again,. They wouldn't let me enjoy life as I used to. Memories haunted me whatever I did. I walked to my apartment then went up to the roof. I spent the night smoking and gazing at the starry sky.

#ericxoc #eric coulter #eric divergent #divergent #divergentfanfiction #fanfiction #angst #romance #triggerwarningsonpartone #dark themes #mature

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