#so they gave their ideas to men who did publish them

[cruelsister-moved2]

after i did my dissertation and realised how much women's kindness is taken advantage of + often just without individual men even intending to exploit them but because We Live In A Society if you give something away as a woman chances are the person who takes it will be a man, i started feeling like i needed to reduce my desire to help people and keep things for myself otherwise im contributing to that. but more recently i realised this is also exactly what the patriarchy wants from us because women are so helpless if we dont have each other. and on a broader level i dont want to participate in a society where we have to choose between a binary of either paranoid hoarding or being stolen from! so now i decided to go back to my roots which is i would do absolutely anything for a woman. every time im helpful to a man i will help a woman 10x more. problem solved<33

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[ladadiida]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth. or, you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i swear i cannot escape a brainrot whenever i watch a new show. this automatically wrote itself, i don't even remember how i came up with this idea. anyway, i'm surprised there aren't many sanji fics that involves the unrequited love trope, seeing that it suits him. or maybe that's just me. this is only a SNEAK PEEK though.

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 full version now published here!

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite dessert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

again, this is only a sneak peek of the actual fic, i'm currently halfway in completing it. please let me know if you want to read it, because i might publish it next week. if not, i'll just drown in sorrow and self-pity.

[random-non-shower-thoughts]

I'm sick of writers constantly complaining about how hard writing is and how they have to suffer for the craft and how you need to struggle to make it good. I find it so annoying

You are not being quirky or funny to beginning authors and writers, all you are doing is telling them that if they didn't bleed their soul on to the page it's shit and they should feel like shit. I fucking listened to this kind of mindset for years and spewed it to those around me. I was pretentious and told others this mindset was the only one and did nothing because I knew my writing was obviously a joke and not worth reading. Because that's what everyone else said. I didn't bleed, I was having fun. You had to crawl through hell and burn the first draft to spit on the ashes. I wasn't ready to publish because I was enjoying walking my little book babies across the page and doing what they wanted. The little characters knew what they wanted, so I had to rewrite and wrangle them in later. The couldn't just run around like the little ones they were.

And I was right, I wasn't ready. Not because of them, but because I kept swallowing the same slop about how writing is hard and that a first draft had to be shit. I rewrote my first baby and it suffered. I tried to fix it like all the others said, and killed that entire series. Four books, hundreds of thousands of words. DEAD. I will likely never touch them despite all I did to tell a compelling story with characters that were fun, interesting, and well-researched to represent multiple groups. I cannot get that spark back because I was convinced it was wrong. I never tasted enough bile by the nice first draft that was good enough for myself. RIGHT NOW. IT WAS ONLY WHAT I COULD DO NOW.

I legit gave up on ever publishing anything and convinced myself to just make it shit so maybe I could crawl out of the mud and build from scratch. It's what my professor did, and she was years into a book she still wasn't happy with. She insisted she knew the way to publish and we should do the same. How she struggles with typing and making notes for the next draft, how the next one would be better after a rewrite. I had to do the same. It was the only way...

I am so thankful that I did some research after that and found myself falling down a rabbit hole. I wasn't really ready to fully accept the mantra from my professor. Her words never sat right with me, and those who listened without question were quite frankly, too snobbish about white men making badly written black women and all showing zero energy around first drafts--good or bad. I had to get a new perspective. The itch to see more called me to find answers. I was off put by the way they worked like it was an obligation, not art.

And I found it with a group of authors far older and more experienced than myself in a writing blog. Not just the creator held a set of different beliefs and the entire community was excited to share entire books worth of advice for free online, including the author posting (physical copies cost money, but despite running a business, the information was so freely given). And I think the three most important pieces of advice I ever got from them and changed my life were:

Quality will always equal quality. There's is almost no other art form that I have seen talk less about this mindset. Compared to say, drawing, where they go in opposite direction and it's one of the most encouraged aspects of it. I do not see this as much in writing, unless you are boasting bad/shit drafts. This is not what this advice is talking about. This was explained to mean everything from first draft to publishing, the entire process. To go all the way with works put out there that might not be what you first imagined but can say was done. Get that stroy done and put out there so you can move on and learn from previous mistakes and lessons.

You can write a clean first draft. I mean this, throw away the idea what you have done in a moment of happiness or in a frenzy is inherently bad or flawed or needs to be scrapped for the second draft because you obviously need to fix it. It was pointed out that this was a new idea and absolutely a bad thing when you had limited resources and time (pulp fiction, times when you had to make your own supplies, you were not allowed access to better technology). Now that we have electronic word processers, it is now a thing to shit on a first draft because you technically can. But why? Why should you have to throw out your level of quality and care because you are putting your first words to the page. It will never be as good as what you write tomorrow, but that's because you have learned and practiced today. And if you start with shit, your entire foundation is. Show you care about what you write, and much like a house, if what you use for the base is good, the entire thing will have a better leg to stand on. Bricks can be replaced, the swamp you placed them on is going to be much harder.

Do not listen to the inner critic until the editing phase. You know that voice telling you something is off when you are using an editor? The one that sounds like a serious adult and points out all that needs fixing? It has its place, but never on the first draft. Embrace the three year old that is playing with the blocks and says why to everything, that embraces the absolute batshit ideas that whisper to you like a infatuated lover. This is all you should listen too (outlines can be a great guide, but who says you have to follow everything?) Treat the true muse, this fun writing voice, no different than a caregiver would with a child/pet playing at the park, and let it run wild. You can patch up bruises and cuts. You cannot take back telling them NO in a fit of anger. The muse is no different.

And honestly, after reading this, my life changed so much. It made me realize that while I am not where I want to be, I loved what I created in the meantime. I wanted to hold the hands of ideas pulling my sleeve. I wanted to go on an adventure and say, "Yeah, let's go! What should we see today? What monster is waiting for us to discover?"

I literally felt a joy and wrote again. Not right away (depression is a loving embrace and the softest of kissers) but I had not felt such love for myself since before I gave up. I found a character I had not let get tainted my poisoned mind and I treated them like they deserved (and realized some things about myself exploring their minds). Such a love was waiting to be found when I learned they wanted something bigger and pulled me into a new bigger world. I didn't need a novel writing month event to create more than 50k. I didn't care, I wanted them to find their loves and pain, victory and lessons learned. They helped me explore viewpoints outside myself (and throw away some hateful things I harbored about trans women and prostitution from my upbringing).

I bled for sure, but only because I needed to develop the callouses on my fingertips and to lick the blood from my lips as I embraced my muse like a irresistible lover. I found myself in the character I birthed from stardust and an elder god's love of the universe. I learned that if I did this again it would be different, but that's okay. I can go back and read my old works with pride and kind words. I loved what helped me reach this far with a smile and something fun I wanted to read.

I found that if I took a month or a day to pound out a chapter, I was okay. I could sit back and know dealing a closet death and pain was fine, I had something to look forward to when the waters calmed and I was going to be okay again. My muse didn't need me to poke and prod, I could let them slumber with me while my flesh was aching and tears stained my face. I could smoke and drink with my characters and they would be happy to laugh at all the stupid and silly things we can think of. I don't need to suffer when the world is so cold and harsh. It is okay to embrace the warmth of a fire I created in myself.

[haveihitanerve]

Hi, i love your writting, i think you are a talented writter, and would love if you tried making an idea i'd have for a while.

It starts simple, all the batkids for some reason or another are angry with Bruce feeling he dosent appreciate them, having doutes of his love for them as his children and not only soldiers in his mission, for the trama they get hit with some magic figthing a villain that manifest younger versions of the vigilantes, of a simpler time were they knew Batman loved them and they see as Bruce reacts the same as always, that as they grew older they forgot how was been love for him whas like that he never stopedd, maybe he does something with the younger versions that the older ones as him to stop, i want the childhood nostalgia the love of there father never faiding, only them forgetting it's meaning.

If you can't write this its okay i appreciate all the things you publish, thank you for your time, have a wonderfull day.

okay so firstly 😭😭😭 thank you so much💗💗💗

secondly- (okay so this is an edit, i finished writing it a second ago, i did tweak your thing just ever so slightly where instead of the thing making them younger and remembering all that stuff, i had a sort of Adam's Project thing going on where I had them meet their younger selves, i hope that's okay 🙃also i only did Dick Jason and Steph😅because i feel like they're the most filled with those doubts [if you dont consider steph to be one of his, then i suggest just skipping that one also 😅]) {also to clarify- Jason is Adult Jason, Lil J is younger version Jason, RD or Robin Dick is younger version Dick, and RS is Robin Steph, young version Steph}

"Oh that's not good."

The words came from Dick. Jason spun, assessing his older brothers words of warning. The man they were fighting, well, the lead man they were fighting, there were quite a few other men around who also packed some punches, had pulled out some ancient ray gun wand type of thing. "Fuck." He drew out the curse, letting it drop off. "Language." Bruce intoned immediately, voice not even strained as he took on three goons. "Shut up." Jason growled back, falling back alongside Dick and Steph to regroup.

"What do we do?" Steph asked, eyes scanning the glowing orb at the head of the stick, narrowed and analytical. "You're the one who always comes up with the plans." Jason snapped back. "Be nice." Dick interceded quickly before it could become an interfamilial fight instead of vigilantes versus goons. "Try and finish the others and don't engage." Bruce ordered, as always, butting in. "Copy." Dick sighed with a nod at them, first to follow orders even though he was a full ass adult now, and peeled off of the wall, flipping back into the fray.

Steph gave Jason a look and followed suit, tumbling down backwards. Jason rolled his eyes, and just jumped, slamming his fist into a nearby goons face. It felt good to release his pent up angry energy, felt good to pummel something.

He was pissed at Bruce. He was always pissed at Bruce, really, but now he was especially. The man just didn't know when to stop the mission and focus on his kids. Let them focus on the mission. He was always barking orders, growling at them to follow them, and never followed them himself.

Like now, for instance, and Jason groaned as Bruce, predictably, approached the man with the suspicious magical artifact, a direct rebuttal of his order "do not engage."

"Do as I say not as I do, huh?" Dick called his way, and while Jason did mock his brother for being "daddy's little boy", he did appreciate how quick Dick moved to critique him. Bruce grunted something that might have been the affirmative back, and continued forward, uncaring of the hypocrisy. The man lifted his gun. "Dad wait-" Dick called, reaching for him, but Jason snagged his arm. Steph pulled him back. Wrong move. The man spun, and Jason had just enough time to see the horror in Bruce's eyes before everything went black.

"Who are you?" Jason scrambled backwards, springing to his feet. Blue eyes blinked at him owlishly. "Who are you?" The kid repeated, and Jason began to get very ill. "Who are you?" Young Jason repeated a final time, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Jason threw up.

"So you're from the future." It wasn't really a question, but Jason nodded anyway, accepting the washcloth from younger him with a quick "thanks". Little him cocked his head and frowned. He had been given the barest details, just enough to stop his suspicions and prevent him from calling Bruce.

"You don't like B very much right now, do you?" Jason ran a hand through his hair. "To be fair I don't like him very much at any time, so..' He shrugged. Little him cocked his head. "Why not?" Jason shrugged again. "Its a cumulation of things really. He doesn't love me. Always focuses on the mission over his kids. Has to be in charge constantly. I mean," He scoffed. "Its not like I care, you know? That ship had sailed for me, sorry kid," He winced apologetically. "But he should at least try for the new ones."

Little J examined him critically for a second, then spoke. "I don't believe you." Jason snorted. "I don't expect you too. Sorry kiddo, but you'll see. One day." Lil Jason shook his head. "No. No you're wrong." Jason cocked his head, leaning against the desk. "Oh really?"

Little Jason nodded. "Yeah. I think... I think you don't want to see it anymore. Because you're older. Because you're mad at him. And so I think I remember stuff that you maybe don't." Jason swallowed, dropping his hands to rest on either side of him. "Yeah? Like what?" Lil J seemed to consider for a second before answering.

"Like how he tucks us in. Every night after patrol. It doesn't matter how tired he is, how much he would rather go take a shower and pass out in his own bed, every night, he carries me upstairs, tucks me in, makes sure my night light is on, and even asks if I want a bedtime story. No matter what." Little Jason was staring off, just past Jason, lost in the memories.

"Or that day that he stayed home with us, instead of going on patrol, because we were sick. He didn't have to. But he did. And he watched trashy TV with us, and ordered us food. And spent the whole day with us."

Jason swallowed. He had forgotten about that. "Yeah?" He challenged, his voice more scratchy than he would have liked. "What else do you remember?"

"Hello." Dick opened his eyes slowly, only years of training under the Bat keeping his face steady as two very familiar blue eyes blinked back at him. The eyes he saw every morning in the mirror. Robin Dick Grayson offered him a toothy grin. "Welcome to the year 1982. You've been Robin for four years. How goes the future?"

Dick propped himself up onto his elbows, forcing his younger self to stand upright and take a step back. "Aware of who I am huh?" He asked, accepting the water bottle and granola bar Robin Dick handed him. "Uh-huh." RD smiled. "Figured it out all on my own too. Didn't even need Brushe." Dick winced. He had forgotten about that little lisp he'd had when he was 12.

"Does uh, does Bruce know I'm here?" He asked casually. Clearly his acting skills needed work because RD did not seemed convinced that it was casual. "Do you want him to know?" He asked back just as casually. Dick smiled in relief. "No. Thanks." RD shrugged. "He doeshn't need to know everythig." "He thinks he does." Dick muttered with a wince, pushing himself into a chair.

Wrong thing to say. Robin Dick examined him critically. "No. He doeshn't." He said it like a fact, like it was just common knowledge that Dick was supposed to know. Well, if this was his younger self maybe he was supposed to know it. Maybe he had. Once. "He likesh to." RD admitted, leaning against his bed. "But he doesn't have to." "Oh yeah?" Dick challenged, tilting his head up. "Give me one example."

Robin Dick considered that for a second, and Dick was about to crow "ha I knew it", but RD beat him to speaking. "Like the time we meshed up that job in Crime Alley." Dick's blood went cold. He remembered that night. "You mean when he sent me to bed without dinner and benched me from being Robin?" The words were out before he could stop them.

Young Dick looked at him with a mixture of concern and disgust. "That'sh not what happened at all." He shook his head, elaborating before Dick could tell him to. "I was sho scared when B arrived. So shcared. But he asked if I was alright, and if I had shaved everyone." Young Dick swallowed, face turning pale. "I told him yesh, and that was it. He dropped it. Helped me finish up, and we went home. I know he wash dying to know. But he didn't ashk. Just left it alone."

RD cheek's hollowed as he inhaled. "And he made me dinner. Alfred wash gone with some of his veteran friends. But I wasn't hungry. He said okay, kissed my forehead, and let me go to bed." Dick shook his head, but... it wasn't untrue, what the kid was saying. "And I benched myself for a week afterwards. I just... wasn't ready." RD eyes refocused, and he looked at Dick. "He loves me. Us." And he said it with such finality... that Dick nodded.

"I thought I'd be taller." Steph jerked up, squinting against the bright light. "What?" "Tal-ler." The girl in front of her sounded out the syllables, tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she cut up a magazine. Steph knew that voice. And that hair. And everything.

"You?" She asked, wincing. "Believe me I ain't too pleased with it either." Her younger self answered, pulling out some glue. Steph rubbed her side, propping herself up on the bed and looking down to where her younger self sat on the floor. "Its... exactly how its in the manor now." Her younger self glanced up. "O' course it is." She shook her head, ponytail slapping back and forth. "Why would you e'er change it?"

Steph fought her wince at her old Gotham drawl. It wasn't that she didn't have it anymore, it was just that she had learned to cover it up better. It wasn't as loud. "So why're you here?" RS asked, holding up the large bright purple sheet of paper she was cutting and pasting on, eyeing it critically.

"I don't know." Steph admitted, rubbing her arms. "It just sort of... happened. I mean, it wasn't supposed to be me, it was supposed to be Bruce-" RS's head jerked up abruptly. "You mean he wadn't there??" Steph shrugged. "Well... he was. He just, didn't get there in time." RS scoffed. Steph scowled. "What is that so hard to believe?"

RS nodded, as though that was an easy true/false question. "Yeah." She answered before Steph could dwell too long on it. "It ees. He's always there for me." She shot Steph a glare, like it was her fault Bruce hadn't moved faster.

"No he's not." Steph snapped back. "He's never there for you and that's why it never works out!" She slammed a hand to her mouth. Conversing with her past self was one thing, revealing her future was another. But Young Steph didn't seem concerned, continuing her cutting like her older self hadn't said anything. At Steph's look she sighed, setting down her work. "Well you're still wit 'im now aren't cha?" Steph gave an odd little head bop. "So it does work out."

She went back to her work like nothing had occurred. "You are a strange one." Steph murmured quietly. RS sent her a grin. "Of course. Birds of a feather bats of a cave y'know. Us crazies gotta stick together." Steph laughed, wondering if she'd ever told Bruce he was crazy to his face. To be honest, she probably had. Young Steph held up her concoction, displaying a bright purple sign with big blocky cut out letters and pictures "HAPPY BIRTHDAY B-MAN, I MEAN BRUCE!" Steph laughed.

"Any suggestions?" RS asked, smiling at the laugh of approval. Steph dug around in her pocket, pulling out a little corked bottle that Bruce had once gifted her. She'd never used it before. "Glitter."

When they all tumbled back into their universe they landed in the cave, thankfully, and Bruce was hunched over the computer, fingers flying. "Uh," Dick scratched the back of his neck, looking at the other two. "Meet anyone new?" He guessed. "Someone old." Steph returned. "Someone I haven't spoken too in a while." Jason nodded his agreement. Dick smiled. "Me too. Good?" The word was loaded, tentative and searching. Steph looked at Jason, and both nodded. "Yeah. Good."

"Go away. I'm not eating. Not until they're back." Bruce grunted at them, eyes trained on the screen. Jason smirked. "Well gee old man, guess you can eat now." Bruce's fingers stilled. Steph almost laughed at the sudden change, the rapid fire speed suddenly stopped like a comic.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned towards them, like this had happened before and they'd vanished. "How long were we gone?" Dick asked, ever the practical one. He didn't have time to react before Bruce's arms were around him, crushing him to his chest. "Too long." the man murmured. Steph poked Jason in the arm, pointing at the calendar, then the clock. Three hours. Not even a full day.

Jason didn't even manage to give a reacting before he was in Bruce's arms too. "How could I ever forget?" He muttered, to himself, and Dick frowned, before understanding crossed his features. Steph blew out a breath, waiting for Bruce to let go so that she could give her update and leave, but the Bruce was hugging her too, and... yeah. How could she ever have forgotten?

TYSM and I hope i did your idea justice 💗💗💗🫡

[icypenguin]

genshin men Xiao, Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Wriothesley, (sperate) x y/n??

How about them meeting a teen (14 -16) y/n who is like Kairi from kingdom hearts and always saw how they always kept a diary with them full of writing and some small doodles??

(this is platonic ofc I RLLY wanted to see their interactions with Kairi from kingdom hearts also I would search her personality because I don't know how to describe it sorry!! 😭😭)

★~ Words and doodles!

HELLO ANON, OFCOURSEE I’LL BE HAPPY TO!!!!! I HOPE I GOT KAIRI’S PERSONALITY RIGHT… but anyway i hope you’ll like it so please enjoyyyyy!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

★~ Xiao: you accidentally bumped on him while rushing to get the new limited edition sticker collection! he’ll be quite grumpy but he doesn’t really care about it anyway (mehhh). “oh! sorry sir, here you could have this doodle i did earlier! byebye!” you gave him a sticker as an apologize. he only stood there, not knowing what to say. the second time you met eachother is when he was strolling around at a park and you were doodling and writing in your diary. he noticed you but he pays no mind. but ofcourse, you noticed him and walked to him. you were very sorry for that incident so why not offer him a doodle? “hey, sir! i’m really sorry for our past events. as an apology… let me doodle you!” “uh.. i- um.. sure?” he was quite confused ofcourse. but after 5 minutes he was happy to see your doodle of him smiling and not have a grumpy face.

★~ Neuvillette: he was you wondering through fontaine a couple of times always holding that precious diary of yours. he was going to work, he stumbled upon a familiar diary. as he thought of it again, he remembered you. he bet you were looking all over fontaine for your diary. he took it and took a great peek inside. he saw your variations of doodles and writings. he was amazed by your style, well he’s never seen something like this on the newspaper. as he continued walking, he saw you asking everyone in the street about your missing diary. then, it was his turn to be asked “hello, chief of justice! have you seen a diary that i always carry around? please tell me you’ve seen it!”. your worried expression faded as he pulled out your diary. “i believe this is what you��re talking about?” he handed you the diary. “yes! thankyou sir! thankyou thankyou! how can i repay you?” you took the notebook and hold it close. “well.. i took a peek of your diary and your writing amazed me. perhaps you could write a biography of me?” “ofcourse! i’d be happy to”. you wrote him a biography and made some doodles of him. he was delighted to see the results. he’ll be sure to hire you as his assistant someday.

★~ Alhaitham: he’ll be.. i guess pretty interested in a girl always bringing around her diary? well, he does like books and writing. as you were exploring sumeru city, a page from your diary fell. al-haitham was the first one to notice. he took it and read the page about your day with a doodle of a spinocrocodile. he tought, perhaps you could be a journalist. he catched up to you and gave you the missing page of your diary. you thanked him and he told you to maybe publish a story in a diary-a-like style about your day that someone will enjoy (if you don’t understand, search up marcy’s journal from amphibia). you thought of the idea and perhaps you should. “well, if you need any help, just find me” he said before he walked away. some weeks later, you passed by him again and took the chance to ask something “h-hey! uh- sir al-haitham, could i ask you something?” “go ahead, i guess it’s about the diary book?” “yes! yes it is”. he invited you for lunch at a café and you asked him multiple questions that he was happy to answer. as time pass, you finished your book with his help and published it. the citizens loved it ofcourse! now, he’s like your mentor. he helped you in any problem you had.

★~ Wriothesley: he would catch you writing in your diary and scribbling doodles with sigewinne every thurday afternoon. sigewinne told him about you too, how you both like to write down what happened in your day and doodle some random things. he was glad that sigewinne was having fun with a friend, it catched his interest. the next time he saw you with sigewinne, he decided to join in. “hey! having a lovely afternoon?” “oh! hello, duke! are you sigewinne’s friend? she told me about you”. he chuckled at your sunny and cheerful personality “yes that is correct, what are you both writing?”. “oh we’re writing how our day went..” sigewinne decided to join in the conversation. he looked to the doodles and writing you both made- and certainly he approved that it is adorable. “hey y/n we should make stickers for the duke!” “oh? you’ll let me do that? awesome!” you and sigewinne started to doodle for the stickers. oh well, i guess wriothesley will have 2x more stickers around his office or in random places.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

THANKYOU FOR READING! ANON, IM SO SORRY IF THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU EXPECTED… BUT I HOPE YOU’RE SATISFIED WITH IT 😞😞😞 ANYWAY THANKYOU FOR THE 300 LIKES ON MY PREVIOUS FANFIC BTW EHHEHEHEHEB HAVE A NICE DAYYYY! ADVICES ARE ACCEPTED, THANKYOUUU!

[queenlua]

this martin luther guy has SO many DRAMA QUEEN MOMENTS, i'm kind of in love

like, okay, here's one: the story of august 22, 1524, aka The Very Public Friend Breakup

THAT MORNING, Luther gave a long-ass sermon at this church in Jena, right

and he spends a lot of time dunking on the "radical" reformers, whom he calls "crazies" and accuse of being in league with the devil

however, in the audience, disguised as a peasant, is his old buddy Karlstadt

who Luther threw under the fucking bus two years ago. basically, Luther went around preaching all this radical reformation stuff, but as soon as the town of Wittenberg got TOO gung ho about it & threatened Luther's buddy-buddy relationship with the reigning Elector, Luther was like "oh man i never meant that TOWN COUNCILS could just DECIDE to remove icons from churches. where did you get THAT idea. i denounce you all entirely"

meanwhile his buddy Karlstadt, who'd collaborated with him!!! on multiple important writings!!! was sitting there like "wtf man i was just going ahead with what you've been preaching the whole time"

& there were a lot of ways to resolve that conflict but Luther decided to just pin all the blame on Karlstadt, and he manipulated circumstances s.t. printers stopped printing Karlstadt's books, etc

so now Karlstadt's had two years to wonder why tf his former friend hates him so much

and after this sermon, Karlstadt writes Luther a letter of "hey can we talk. mano a mano. my feelings are hurt :(" and Luther's like "sure"

so Karlstadt shows up at the inn where Luther's staying, and Luther's chilling in the lobby with a whole bevy of Saxon court officials surrounding him, and Luther's like "yo, just take the seat across from me, anything you want to say to me you can say in front of all of them"

(bitch-ass move!!! what a lil motherfucker)

so then the THROWDOWN BEGINS

The two men argued for a long time, sometimes falling silent. They knew each other well, and their jibes hit home. You "go about in a grandiose fashion, boast grandly, and want only yourself to be exalted and noticed," Luther told Karlstadt. "You must always speak in such a way that you maintain your reputation and stir up hatred for other people," Karlstadt replied. In the midst of these highly emotional exchanges, Karlstadt turned to the audience and declared: "Dear brothers, I pray you, don't pay attention to my harsh speech. Such harsh speech is a matter of my complexion but my heart is not on that account wicked or angry.”

(yeah that's very much a "im not mad. please don't put in the newspaper that i got mad" moment lol)

Luther taunted Karlstadt with not daring to attack him in public; Karlstadt retorted that it was Luther who was preventing him from doing so. Then, taking a coin from his pocket, Luther announced: “If you do, I will present you with a guilder for it." Karlstadt accepted the challenge, took the coin, "showed it to all bystanders," and declared: "Dear brothers, this is a pledge, a sign, that I have authority to write against Dr. Luther." Karlstadt bent the guilder and put it in his purse. The two men shook hands and Luther drank a toast to Karlstadt. Then they parted.

which is already PEAK bitchy, right, "lmao if you're really so brave, do it, here i'll even give you some money," but it's even bitchier with additional context:

It was a momentous meeting. By bending the coin, Karlstadt took it out of circulation and marked it forever as a token. This was common sixteenth-century practice: Binding marriages could be concluded by giving a coin as a token, while commercial contracts, agreed without paper records, were given force by rituals like the handshake and the drink. Yet the meaning of this ritual was not clear. Luther regarded it as a declaration of enmity, a formal initiation of feud; Karlstadt, as his right to publish.

anyway even though Luther's the one who asked that they duke it out publicly, apparently he gets mad when anyone other than he himself is doing the Poasting lol:

Martin Reinhard published a pamphlet describing the event, so for once Luther did not have control of the propaganda. Luther was furious when he read Reinhard's account, written "to my infamy and Karlstadt's glory," even though the tone of the text was scrupulously neutral. But no reader could miss Luther's contempt for Karlstadt during their meeting, capped by the gift of the valuable coin (gold, no less). And now there was no turning back: Luther's promise to Karlstadt allowing him to publish was on public record. Luther made certain that the author of the pamphlet did not get away with it. Shortly afterward, Reinhard was forced to leave his post in Jena, and when he moved to Nuremberg, he was driven from there, too. Reinhard soon knuckled under, asking forgiveness, but Luther was unwilling to intervene on his behalf.

i swear every other chapter has something like this. am i going insane. goddamn i love this book and this skrunky weirdo

[sea-owl]

So I made a part two to this. Hope you all like it!

AO3: Link

Felicity leaned into her sister, purposely laying her head on her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed on the oblivious Marquess Odysseus Rose of Winchester, who sat across from them. The interloper first came two weeks ago and has been here every other day since! Felicity was sick of him. What kind of cad courts a woman who is spoken for? Does he not know or care that Penelope has . . .what was that word that countess used? An understanding? An agreement? Does not matter. What matters is that the interloper is trying to ruin it!

"Have you noticed the similarities between the myth of Eros and Psyche and the story of the Beauty and the Beast?" Penelope asked the interloper as she flipped through the book her true intended gave her.

The interloper's face lit up. "Yes!" Quickly, he flipped through his own book, fairytales collected and published in 1812 by two men who call themselves the Brothers Grimm. Penelope had gushed when the interloper brought it with him today. "So many elements are the same! A beautiful woman whisked off to a magical castle where she learned she would be living with or had been married to a monster. The very same monster they later fell in love with!"

Penelope giggles and Felicity frowns. That interloper better not be getting any ideas. Being kidnapped is not romantic!

"Though I would not want to be Psyche," Penelope winced. "To be with child during those labors. . ."

Felicity looked up. "I agree! Penelope, never be like Psyche, please!"

The interloper chuckeled. "Though it does show great bravery," he added.

Felicity whipped her head around. Is this interloper plan to leave Penelope with child and have do some sort of test?! Will he leave like that George cad did to cousin Marina?!

Felicity stands, ready to throw all of her ten year old weight against the interloper when-

"Felicity!"

Felicity pouted. Drat, she gained the attention of their mama.

"Felicity why don't we give Penelope and Lord Winchester some space," Portia suggested. Though it felt more like an order.

Felicity does not want to give them space. That would only invite ungentlemanly behavior from the interloper.

"Felicity."

The youngest Featherington found her reluctantly walking towards hwr mother.

"We must not interfere less the marquess change his mind and leave your sister with no options," Portia whispered to her youngest.

Felicity's jaw dropped. No options?! Penelope has another option! All the mamas talk about how they don't take Colin Bridgerton seriously as a potential suitor due to his. . .his. . .oh, what was the word several of the mamas used again? Understanding? Yes, understanding! No matchmaking mama saw Colin Bridgerton as a potential suitor due to his understanding with Penelope!

Portia waves Felicity off, her scheming face now in place. Felicity turns towards her father, hoping he would come to defend Felicity's favorite sister and future brother, but of course, Lord Featherington still hides behind his newspaper.

Felicity has to stop herself from stomping to the window, lest her mama acolds her again. Hopefully, her future brother will be here soon. He was almost over as much as the interloper.

Felicity crawled into the window seat and huffed when she saw no sight of her future brother. Was he that secure with his understanding with Penelope that he had no fear of the interloper? Well, Felicity will have to change that.

Thank all that was holy that marquess did not stay long after. But did he have to kiss her sister’s hand?! Felicity felt her hackels raise. No, this man WILL NOT break up her sister and Felicity's favorite future brother! As soon as she watched Marquess Rose drive off in his carriage, Felicity took off sprinting across the street with a quick word she was visiting Hyacinth.

The Bridgerton butler, Humboldt, open the door. "Miss Featherington, Miss Hyacinth isn't here at the moment but I can-"

"I'm here to see Colin!" Felicity blurted out, trying to catch her breath.

Humboldt stared at the ten year old girl for one moment then two.

"Please its important."

Just as she was afraid he was going to deny her the butler let her in and had her wait in one of the drawing rooms.

Felicity found herself pacing. Colin needed to hurry up that marquess could be thinking up ways to ruin her sister at this very moment! Colin needs to go court Penelope more than he ever has before! Should they get flowers? Yes, flowers are always nice!

"Felicity what's wrong-"

"We must make haste to the florist!" Felicity declared, trying to push Colin out the door he just came in.

"Felicity!"

"We must get something beautiful! But no yellow!" Felicity pauses. "AND NO ROSES!" Can't have Penelope associating the flowers with that stupid marquess.

Colin turned around, grabbing hold of Felicity's shoulders he kneeled down so they were eye level. "Felicity what is going on? Why do we need to go to a florist?"

Felicity huffed. Could he not ask on their way to the florist? "Marquess Odysseus Rose," Felicity spat the name, "has called upon Penelope yet again! He will not leave us alone and he is trying to take my sister away! Mama has hinted marriage between him and Penelope and we can not allow that to happen!"

Colin froze before Felicity finished her sentence. "Marquess Rose was at your house today?"

"Yes!" Felicity cried frustrated. "We can not allow him to out court you for Penelope's hand! Now we must make haste to the florist!"

Colin stiffly stood. "Yes, let's. Perhaps we'll also stop at the bookstore and maybe get Penelope a new handkerchief as well."

"Oh yes!" Felicity agreed, taking Colin's offered arm like she would do with one of her sisters. "Something with a pretty lace border! Also may I suggest the Brothers Grimm?"

There is no need for the interloper to bring the book over anymore if Penelope has her own copy, courtesy of her true suitor.

[sparksqfly]

─ So much for summer love𓆝 part 3

are we out of the woods?

synopsis: modern au - you meet ellie during a school activity and start getting involved in an intense relationship. warnings! bad words, pet names? (princess, good girl etc), implied sex, teasing, lowkey mean!ellie and mean!reader. ellie and reader gets injured. soo much drama but happy ending author's note: this is the final official part of the story. Possibly sometime this week, i will publish an epilogue for this story because i have a couple of ideas to wrap it up. this part is quite long, and i apologize for that, but i hope you still enjoy it!. again, english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes i may have made. thank you for reading <3 about the story: joel is referred to as ellie's father. references to taylor swift and her music, the reader is a huge swiftie (this chapter is so out of the woods coded hehehhe). there is a big reference to taylor swift, but it speaks for itself :)

wc: 7,2k (im so sorry), taglist: @elliesinterlude @libr4sonsa @erikaar

"i think the guide closing this stage is my father," ellie said, turning around to look at you closely. "so, you have a cover story when you have to tell him that you broke a race limit with a blade," you tease her. "maybe, i was thinking of saying that I found it on the floor, but you're right, i don't have to give too many explanations," she said with a smirk. during what felt like an eternity in the forest, ellie had talked to you about her family. she had never known her mother, but she had given birth to her early, and it had always been joel and her with their two uncles. in that conversation, you had felt somewhat important. joel was one of the race guides who, as a father of a student, had helped the schools organize the outing, and you were his daughter's classmate. to some extent, you were important.

you snapped out of your imagination when you saw two men standing at the end of that stage of the race. Indeed, one of them was ellie's father. she was the one who handed him the collected objects. when she handed him the ribbon, joel simply said, "did you tie them again?" ellie nodded, and they continued looking at the objects as if nothing had happened. "okay, ladies, you can take some time to have lunch. It's around four-thirty in the afternoon, and you should be back by five. that way, you'll complete the final activity, and we can return by 7," he said, and you nodded, looking at him. "where can we eat?" you asked, hoping they wouldn't make you sit somewhere where some activity was going on. you had already dealt with many teenagers during the day. "you have a large part of the forest; there are some boundaries, but as long as you don't go too far to get lost, it's enough," he gave a stern look to his daughter, and she smiled back with arrogance. "understood, let's go eat," ellie said, smiling at you. joel moved aside to let them pass. "what? no money for lunch today, old man?" ellie said, putting a hand on your waist to guide you. "oh, sure! I'll give you 50 dollars to spend at the technological buffet in this forest," joel joked, and ellie laughed, throwing her head back. it was a beautiful sound. she should do it more often.

after a couple of minutes of both of you walking through the forest, ellie asked with a smile, "would you allow me to take you to a place for us to have lunch, princess?" her hand had held yours, and you were swinging them as you walked. "of course, babe, but keep in mind that i'm starving," you said, placing your hand on your stomach. it would start making noise any moment now.

it turned out that ellie knew the forest very well. much better than you could have expected. just before you sat down on the ground and asked ellie to pass you the lunch bag so you could sit on any fallen log to eat, she took your hand and led you away from where you were. when you looked up, you found yourself facing a beautiful river. it wasn't very large, and the water flowed calmly, almost silently. the shore was made of stones, and the trees seemed to have stopped growing in that part of the forest. as mundane as the place seemed, it looked like something out of one of the epic fantasy books you loved to read. "ellie..." you said, incredibly surprised by the beautiful landscape before your eyes. She smiled in response. "beautiful, isn't it?" "beautiful? oh my god, ellie, are you crazy? this is stunning!" she chuckled softly, with a sideways smile. she seemed extremely proud of herself for making you this happy. "i know, i used to come here with joel. I didn't think i'd remember the way, but look, it seems like i do," ellie said, sounding even prouder of herself. you took out your phone to take several photos. some just of the scenery, and when you turned around to take pictures of ellie, you saw her through your camera, taking a photo of you with her phone. immediately, you lowered your phone and covered your face with your hands, laughing at the situation and her beautiful concentrated expression while trying to take the picture.

instantly, arms wrapped around you, planting kisses on your hair amidst laughter. you looked up at ellie and nestled into her body, embracing her neck with your arms and bringing her lips close to yours, placing one of your hands on her nape. ellie deepened the kiss, and you let yourself go, partially opening your mouth to let her do as she pleased. after all, the two of you were truly alone, at least for the moment.

her lips parted in search of air, but ellie didn't stop there. she began kissing the right side of your face, leaving a trail of kisses from your forehead to your exposed collarbone due to the cut of your dress. her kisses continued descending where the fabric of your dress began, and you felt her sucking more on your skin with each kiss she left. as she approached your breasts, she started gently pressing your skin between her teeth. you felt her fingers play with the strap of your bra, which was visible due to your now disheveled dress. you were about to ask her to continue, to stop playing with you and lower that damn brassiere, when your stomach growled with hunger.

when you heard it, you held your breath at first, hoping that ellie hadn't noticed and that she would continue doing what she was doing just a second ago. but you knew her better than that. as soon as you released your breath, she burst into laughter as if she had heard the funniest joke in the world. you huffed, "fuck off, williams," and she continued laughing like crazy. "baby, that was freaking adorable," she said, looking at you with a smile as she gave you a kiss on the cheek. "i'm starving, babe. you've been teasing me for hours. i'm dead hungry," you pouted playfully, making ellie laugh even more. before releasing you, she playfully bit your shoulder and readjusted your bra and dress to their original positions.

she bent down to rummage through her backpack, pulling out the same waterproof coat from earlier and looping it around your waist before tying it at the front. as she tied it, she pecked your lips and you responded with a more aggressive kiss, albeit with a smile. "so you don't stain that beautiful dress," you smiled at her and watched as she sat on a large rock, spreading her legs wide open. she gestured with her head for you to sit in front of her, and you complied. carefully, you sat on the ground, making sure not to touch the water too much, as you had a feeling you'd freeze if any part of your body came into contact with it. ellie took out the lunch bags, keeping one for herself and handing you the other. without hesitation, you opened it, revealing two halves of a sandwich inside and an apple. without thinking, you took a bite of your food and realized that they hadn't given you anything to drink until ellie pulled out a thermos flask of water from her backpack and offered it to you.

you ate in comfortable silence, finding it amusing how differently you and ellie ate. ellie consumed her sandwich silently and slowly, while you devoured yours quickly, as if it were about to disappear, barely taking a sip of water. "this is fucking amazing," you said with a mouthful, without lifting your head. you heard her laugh and looked into her eyes. she smiled and used her thumb to wipe off a bit of mayonnaise from the corner of your lips. you thought about giving her a napkin to clean her finger, but without thinking, she brought it to her mouth. You had a déjà vu of being on the bus with her as you felt your face blush violently at her gesture.

"do you have any music to play, babe?" ellie asked as she placed the first sandwich wrapper back into the bag they had been given. you noticed that she had removed the lettuce, which you found adorable. responding to her question, you nodded and took out your phone from your purse. you realized that you had no signal, probably because they were deep into the woods, so you simply played music from your downloaded songs. "isn't it strange that we haven't crossed any of those purple boundaries to get here? i mean, we've gone pretty far," you asked ellie as you placed your phone far from the water. she nodded. "yeah, it's weird, but i think it's because the others are too scared to venture out so far," ellie said. "anyway, we didn't go that far from where we started," she added, looking in the direction they had come from. you nodded, laughing.

you packed up the remaining bits of your sandwich in the bag and looked at the apple that had been at the bottom of the bag. With a mischievous smile, you looked at ellie. "what?" ellie asked, looking at you. your smile grew even wider. "you know, i actually don't like apples," you started rummaging through your bag for the candies you had packed earlier in the morning before leaving. ellie continued to look at you with a smile, and you pulled out three chocolates for her. with adoration in her eyes, she took them from your hands. "thank you," she said in a deep but relaxed voice. you took out some gummy worms from a small plastic bag deep in your bag. you ate a couple, buying time until ellie finished her chocolates, and then you grabbed one of the gummy worms. before she could even extend her hand, you moved the candy away from her. "come and get it," you said and promptly put it in your mouth, holding it with your teeth and slightly tilting your head forward to show it to her better. ellie seemed excited about the idea, just like you, as before you knew it, she was on top of you, her face inches away from yours, and her two arms planted on the ground behind you, keeping you in place.

in a matter of seconds ellie bit off a part of the worm and swallowed it in record time, you even thought he hadn't even chewed it. anyway you imitated her action by eating the candy extremely fast. still with the taste of that damn gummy in your mouth, ellie pounced on your lips, kissing them desperately. one of her hands that was resting on the floor went to your back, to pull you even closer to her and glue your bodies together.

after what felt like an eternity in her mouth, the redhead changed positions. she gently laid you down on the coastal stones and she positioned herself on top of you. before diving into your lips again, she caressed your hair and placed it on the ground "so pretty..." Ellie whispered through her teeth while she kept touching a strand of your hair that was on your cheek. she kissed you again desperately and moved one of her hands to the same place where she had been fiddling before, your collarbone and the strap of your bra. ellie pulled away from your lips to look at you "can i pull this down angel?" she asked, you saw her intertwine her fingers with the elastic of your bra. "mhm" you said in a nodding manner. ellie smiled sideways and released the elastic, allowing it to fall onto your skin. It made a sound that slightly startled you, and you felt a slight pain as it pressed against your skin.

"mmhm?" he mimicked your tone, using a high pitched voice "babe, I don't understand that dialect, come on. use your big girl words." bitch, you wanted her so bad and she knew it.  you blushed as you tried to formulate a coherent sentence to tell her that she could do whatever she wanted with you. "y-yes. y-you can pull it o-off." Ellie laughed tenderly at your stutter and gave you a kiss on the cheek and then pulled the dress you were wearing, including your bra, down below your shoulders. leaving your breasts completely uncovered. without missing a single moment he took one of them into his mouth, sucking it shamelessly and playing with your nipple between his teeth. causing you a fucking pleasurable pain. with his free hand she began to fiddle gently with the other one.

you on your side with one of your hands covered your mouth, you were already unable to contain your moans and gasps only with your lips. the refuge didn't last long, ellie withdrew the hand that had been on your tit to grab the hand you were covering your mouth with from your wrist. "come on, doll. let it out. we're in the middle of the woods all alone. who's going to hear you?" fuck, she was right. you were lying on the bank of a river with the girl of your dreams on top of you and you at her complete mercy. the thought that you were actually not far away from the crowded area and that anyone could appear at any moment made you even more excited. ellie let go of the tit she was touching to move on to the other one. giving it the same treatment as the other one. biting it and caressing it gently with her tongue.

she suddenly stopped paying attention to your breast and moved up to your mouth, kissing you until you were breathless, while continuing to caress you. sometimes your hair, other times parts of your body, she was driving you crazy. the music paused for a brief second, allowing you to hear the natural sounds of the forest. you heard a sound similar to a breaking branch and abruptly lifted your head, looking towards where it came from. if ellie wasn't on top of you, immobilizing you with her body, you would have stood up completely embarrassed at the thought of being discovered. you felt ellie gripping your chin and turning your face towards her. "eyes on me, baby," she said in a breath, staring at you intently. with her free hand, she began to caress your belly and abdomen from top to bottom. "i want you to feel comfortable," she said, smiling sideways. bitch. "y-yes, ellie. do whatever you want, but just do it," you were hopeless. you needed her right now. "what?" she said, laughing in your face. "yes! ellie, take me, damn it!" ellie seemed satisfied with that, and without waiting another second, she slipped her hand under your dress and inside your underwear.

slept for a long time after what had happened. as you remembered it, you smiled, and ellie turned to look at you again. "are you okay?" she asked, caressing the lower part of your back as you lifted your head from her neck. "better than ever," you smiled at her. "i think it's time to go," she said, sitting up straight. you didn't know how much time had passed, but it was probably longer than you should have taken for lunch. "right, do you think the others are worried?" you asked as you sat on the ground. you picked up your phone, which was a few steps away, and turned off the music that was still playing. taylor swift's "dress" was playing at that moment. you smiled internally as you heard the last line of the song before stopping it. "only bought this dress so you could take it off."

"ready, babe?" ellie asked you from behind. you put your phone in your bag, and she took hold of both of your hands to help you get up. you stood in front of her, only inches apart. ellie gave you a big smile. "what?" you asked her, feeling nervous. "what, els, you're scaring me." did you have something on your face? maybe dirt on your cheek? or in your hair? "you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen," ellie responded, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "you scared me!" you said, gently pushing her. she quickly returned to her place and held you by the waist, kissing your forehead. before you could protest, she grabbed your hand and started walking.

"are you sure you know how to get back?" you asked her. you couldn't help but notice how the sky was darkening, and the path you had taken on the way felt unfamiliar. it was curious how light could change a landscape so much. you felt like you had never been there, even though you had just been there a while ago. despite trusting ellie with your life, you were afraid that she might not navigate well or step on a bear trap, or that the forest animals might attack without the noise of the music to deter them. okay, you were being ridiculous. ellie probably knew this forest like the back of her hand. she had already told you there were no bear traps, and come on, she had a damn knife in her back pocket. perhaps it was the bear that should be afraid of crossing paths with her.

"princess?" ellie's voice snapped you out of your trance. "yes, els, sorry. i was lost in thought. what did you say?" she laughed and caressed your hand. "i was saying it's not a very difficult path. we just need to keep going straight until we reach a big tree, then turn right and walk for about five minutes. we should come across the racecourse." she spoke with concentration, looking at the trees. "sounds good," you said, stroking her hand back. you didn't want to distract her. "but wait," ellie suddenly stopped and crouched down to search for something in her backpack. you saw her pull out that damn waterproof coat again, but this time she helped you put it on and even closed it all the way up. "it's starting to get cold," she said, kissing the tip of your nose. you smiled foolishly, though you were worried about her getting cold on the way. "you're a superhuman and you don't get cold?" you teased her. "i have pretty good resistance, but don't worry. if i really get too cold, i can ask my dad for a jacket. you're my priority," she said, trying to sound serious, but you had already figured her out, especially with what she had just said. she was so sweet.

say that everything was going wrong was an understatement. the two of you had been walking through that damn forest for over an hour, and night had fallen a while ago. it was becoming increasingly difficult to see where you were heading. ellie seemed to be in a very bad mood and had been pacing around for a long while. you had the feeling that you two were just walking in circles in the forest for hours, but you had no idea how to break that cycle and find a way out.

ellie had let go of your hand fifteen minutes ago, although at that moment, she didn't seem as angry as she was now. her shoulders were tense, and you could hear her muttering curses under her breath. she made abrupt changes in direction without warning. not to mention the cold that had started to set in. ellie's coat kept you warm, but your legs trembled if you stayed still for too long. you couldn't ignore the slight pain that appeared in your chest when you saw ellie chattering her teeth and how her body trembled from the cold.

"els..." you called her with the sweetest voice you had, the last thing you wanted was to distract her, but you felt too selfish with her coat on while she shivered in the cold. "what?" ellie responded abruptly, as if you were bothering her, and that's exactly how you felt. "it's just that... it's freezing. do you want me to give you the coat for a while?" you asked. you were about to touch her shoulder to make her turn and look at you because she hadn't even done that. "what the hell are you saying? no, that's fucking stupid," the words came out of her mouth, sharp as a knife. and a wave of sadness flooded you, but at the same time, you felt a deep anger towards her in your chest. what the hell was wrong with her? she was the one who had put you both in this situation.

you quickly pushed those thoughts out of your head. you were letting yourself be carried away by your emotions and the exhaustion of the moment. it wasn't your fault, and it wasn't ellie's either. It was just how things had unfolded. "it's just that you're shivering, and this is your coat, and..." "oh my god, can you fucking shut up for one damn second?!" she exclaimed. she hadn't shouted at you, but it felt like she had. the anger in your chest grew even bigger, along with the urge to cry. you tried to calm yourself down, repeating what you had told yourself before, but before you could manage to calm down, ellie walked past you. "fucking move," she said. she didn't push you, but it made you feel even worse. the fact that she didn't even turn to look at you made it even worse. where was the girl who had made you blush on the bus hours ago, the one who couldn't go more than 5 minutes without holding your hand? for the first time, you felt alone in that forest and filled with anger.

"what the hell is wrong with you anyway?" you asked, furrowing your brow and using a voice you hadn't used with her until now, filled with anger and sadness. she turned around, also with a furrowed brow, her shoulders tense, and her hands clenched into fists. "i'm trying to guide us on the damn right path. maybe I would be on the right track if you weren't so damn annoying, you know?" she replied. you had never heard her so angry before. your blood boiled. "so this is how it's going to be, huh?" you asked, your voice rising, about to yell at her. "what the hell are you saying?" wllie asked, looking confused, but still as angry. "you fuck me once, and suddenly I'm a burden to you? is that really the kind of person you are, ellie?!" you accused, and you didn't take long to see the pain that appeared on her face. you suspected you had hit a sensitive spot. "no, y/n, it's not fucking like that. i just..." ellie tried to explain herself, but you simply couldn't bear it anymore. "yeah, but that's exactly what you're doing. I'm done with this, williams," you told her, and her face seemed a mix of sadness and anger. without thinking about what you were doing, you started walking in the opposite direction. "oh, perfect, go your own way. i don't even care about you anyway, right, y/n? fuck you," those last words hurt even more than the entire argument they had just had. "fuck you, williams. damn the moment you were assigned as my fucking partner," you said and continued on your way, walking quickly. you didn't even want her to try to follow you. in that moment, you hated her, and you were regretting everything, even though you knew it was just the anger of the moment. just like ellie probably felt.

when you realized it, you had been walking alone for 10 minutes, you understood the gravity of the situation. you were a girl, unarmed and alone in the middle of a forest filled with wild animals, and you didn't know how to navigate. you had only been thinking about ellie and the argument you both just had, how everything had crumbled in a second just because both of you were tired and in a bad mood. both of you had said things that you didn't truly mean under any circumstances. you knew ellie hadn't used you just for sex, but in the heat of the moment, that was the only thing that had come out to hurt her.

the desire to talk things out with ellie compelled you to continue on your path to find her and discuss what had happened, but you had no idea where she could have gone or where she was. so you decided to implement the only tip you remembered from those shitty tiktok videos you occasionally watched, where they recommended things to do in extreme situations. in this case, if you were lost in a forest, the advice was to find a river and follow it until you reached civilization. it seemed like a terrible idea, but it was the only one you had. you hugged your body, seeking more warmth in the coat and feeling ellie's scent on it. the urge to cry overwhelmed you; this coat was nothing like having her by your side. you thought about how much you would give to have her with you in this moment, and it made you even angrier that both of you were together when this started happening, but you had become too lost in anger and exhaustion to support each other.

somehow, you trusted your instincts that you were on the right path towards the river, so you continued on without looking back. you were terrified of encountering anything; your mind had taken it upon itself to scare you with the worst possible scenarios: ghosts, cults, vampires, wolves, foxes, men, men hunting, bear traps, and so on.

after what felt like hours of walking, you heard a noise. something like a voice. it could have been your imagination, but you swore it was a voice calling your name. you heard it from behind, so you started running in the opposite direction from where you were heading, hoping it wasn't just your mind playing tricks on you. you knew you shouldn't run, especially not in the darkness of a damn forest, but anxiety took over. you sprinted, trying to reach wherever that voice had come from. and as luck would have it, you stumbled on an uneven patch of ground.

for a moment, the pain from your ankle and the confusion were overwhelming. you knew you had twisted your ankle, and you didn't want to look at it. you also knew you had to get up and find a place to sit down at least before the injury got cold and you couldn't move. so that's what you did. you spotted a large fallen log and crawled towards it as best as you could. your whole body was in pain, and you felt exposed because a part of your dress had torn and you were damn dirty from all the dirt you had dragged along. you reached the log and sat down, realizing that you had absolutely nothing left but to pray that they find you quickly. you nestled your face in ellie's jacket, hiding the lower part of your face, and began to pray to be found soon. to be found by HER.

ellie:

fuck, I'm such a fucking idiot. i shouldn't have treated her like that. did she really think i was using her for a quick fuck? that i didn't feel anything for her? i'm an asshole. i had the most beautiful afternoon with her. with the girl of my dreams, and i ruined it just because i couldn't control my damn anger. i let her go, let her walk away from me, and i neglected her, letting her hate me for not shutting my fucking mouth.

ellie could only turn those thoughts over in her head. she couldn't stop regretting everything that had happened and the way she left you alone. it was cold, and you didn't have any food with you. she had taken the water and the other survival supplies. she had only left you a jacket that wasn't even enough for the cold in that forest. she quickly abandoned the mission of returning to the race site. it made no sense to go back to her student obligations when she had failed the only one she had, which was to protect you.

she began to wander around the places where she thought you might have gone. she thought maybe you would try to go back to the lake so she could find you, but right now, you hated her. why would you do that? she started running, trying to cover as much of the forest as possible. all she wanted was to find you; she would deal with returning to the race when she had you in her arms. lost in her thoughts, ellie didn't see the cluster of rocks on the ground. she stumbled over one of them and couldn't catch herself with her body before her head hit one of the rocks.

during the time she was unconscious, ellie couldn't say that she had dreamed anything. all she felt was cold, coldness, and distant voices. for some reason, images of what that day had been like kept repeating in her head. her packing her backpack for that stupid school excursion, getting in joel's car damn early to get to school before anyone else, when a grumpy teacher wrote a "27" on the back of her hand, being by your side all day, the way you looked at her, how nervous she was before she grab your chin for the first kiss, your smile when she complimented your dress, your face below hers, how your hair stretched on the rocks, the way you smiled at her while she touched you, you all over her by the river, and the overwhelming pain on your face when you argued.

"miss, miss, holy shit, it's one of them," she heard a male voice say, pulling her out of the dream. she felt herself being shaken from side to side and her face being touched. "hey, hey."

she abruptly opened her eyes, seeing the trees and the moon above her. in a second, a man appeared in her view, looking young and wearing a police uniform. "are you okay, miss?" another man asked, whose face she couldn't see. the buzzing in her ears was slowly fading away. "what? what happened?" ellie asked, her voice sounding hoarse, and her throat felt dry. "she's one of them, yes. look at the number on her hand." ellie slowly sat up with the help of the two men. "what happened?" she asked again, this time with a firmer voice. "it seems you got lost. you went out for lunch with your partner in the woods and never came back. it's been four hours since you went missing." that comment unleashed everything in ellie. "my partner, y/n. where is she? have you found her? she walked away from me, and i don't know where she went, but you have to find her. she's alone and knows nothing about survival. she was wearing a white dress and a brown jacket. you have to find her," ellie started explaining, her desperation growing with every thought crossing her mind.

"miss, listen to me. we need to get you back to where the school officials are. you lost consciousness, and we don't know what condition you're in. you need medical attention," one of the men explained. "i'm not leaving this damn place without her. she's under my responsibility," ellie said. her voice kept getting louder. "listen to me, miss. you weren't far from the race site. most likely, your friend couldn't have gone too far. we need you to come with us so we can take your statement. you are the most important piece in this," one of the men said. "besides, it's possible that by the time we get there, your friend has already been found," the other added.

after staring at both of them intensely for a few seconds, ellie agreed. they helped her to her feet and walked her toward where "the others were."

you didn't know how long you had been sitting there, probably not long, but you were starting to lose your mind. you felt colder with each passing moment, and the jacket was not enough. on top of that, ellie's perfume had faded from the coat, and you began to feel even more alone. you watched as your ankle started to swell from the impact, and you were incredibly thirsty. obviously, your phone wasn't working, and you had nothing in your bag except for candies.

just when you were feeling most hopeless, you saw your shadow begin to cast on the grass in front of you. you turned around in search of the light that was causing that shadow, and as you turned, all you saw was the blinding flash of a flashlight. "y/n?" a male voice asked from behind the flashlight. "y-yes, it's me," you said with some fear. they knew your name, they couldn't be here to harm you, right? "jesus, kid, we've been looking for you for hours." finally, the man turned off the flashlight and approached you. "joel, thank god," you said, looking at him. you were incredibly happy to see him; aside from ellie, he was the person you wanted to see the most. you knew he would take care of you; his daughter was just like him.

he approached you and noticed that you weren't moving. "is everything okay? are you hurt?" joel asked, getting closer to get a better look at you. "i think i sprained my ankle, it hurts a lot," you said, looking at him. we crouched down to your level; he was very tall, and you couldn't help but feel intimidated. he examined your ankle and nodded. "it's okay, let me help you. there are some men here wandering around. we can assist you together," joel said, and you nodded, trying to move your body while avoiding putting weight on your injured ankle to fight off the cold. "is that ellie's jacket?" joel asked with a smile. although he wasn't saying it accusingly, a huge anguish filled your chest. if you had stayed with ellie, maybe he would have found her by now. after all, his daughter was also missing. you couldn't hold back the tears, and you started crying. "oh, what happened, kiddo? is everything okay?" he asked, putting a hand on your shoulder to calm you down. "it's just that i was with her, and we got lost, and i left because i was very angry, and now i don't know where she is. i'm so sorry, joel," you said between sobs, sad for ellie, but you were also releasing all the anguish you had accumulated during those moments of being alone and desperate.

"its ok, y/n, ellie knows how to navigate this forest, and on the other hand, she knows how to make a scene," joel chuckled to himself. seeing your distressed expression, he continued. "hey, don't worry about her. be glad we found you, and in no time, we'll find ellie. yhey're searching the entire area." you nodded, and just then, another man arrived. alongside joel, they helped you to your feet, and you couldn't help but notice the resemblance between them. "guess what, old man? it seems they found ellie. she seemed to have fainted or something, but as always, that girl is ready for action. she's causing a commotion with the police," the other man said. joel chuckled and turned his gaze to you. "did you hear that, Y/N? I told you she'd be fine." you nodded with a smile. on one hand, you were happy that ellie was safe, but on the other hand, you were damn scared. she had fainted? would she be okay? you were desperate to see her and hold her, but you were terrified that she would still be angry with you.

after walking for a while with the help of the two men, you began to see flashing lights from ambulances and police cars. god, had you caused so much trouble? as the three of you got closer, you heard a voice that was all too familiar, and just as joel had described, causing a scene. perhaps he thought the same, as he chuckled softly as the girl's voice became more audible. finally, the three of you passed through some trees, and you could see the scene clearly. there were several police cars, an ambulance, and several people scattered around the clearing, and there was ellie, your ellie, yelling at a man in a suit and pointing her finger at him. you couldn't help but be taken aback when you saw her. she was covered in dirt, disheveled, and had a bit of blood trickling from her hairline down to her shirt. she had scratches on her cheek, a bruise on her chin, and a split lip. despite being impressed and scared to see her in such conditions, she remained the most beautiful girl in your eyes. your heart found solace in seeing that she was safe and able to stand.

"you're all fucking useless! how long have you been searching for us?! huh?! a whole damn hour and you still haven't found her?! you have one job, you fucking idiots!" she shouted at the man. she hadn't seen you yet but seeing her so worried about finding you from the outside made your heart melt. ellie, your ellie. how could you be so tender? joel and the other man asked one of the doctors where they could leave you to rest, and he pointed them to the edge of the open back of one of the ambulances where they could see the wounds on your leg. it surprised you that they noticed so quickly until you realized that you were noticeably limping on one of your legs. joel and his companion sat you down there, and you thanked them for their help. ellie signaled to you that she was going to talk to Ellie, and you nodded. you had started fidgeting with your fingers from the contained anxiety of seeing ellie so close and worried about you, but not knowing how to get her attention or what to do to talk to her.

you watched joel tap ellie on the shoulder, and she turned around as he pulled her towards him. she allowed it for a moment, her shoulders relaxing. It was freezing cold. how could she be wearing short sleeves? before you had time to process it, ellie turned around and saw you sitting in the ambulance. Without wasting a second, she approached you. not running, but at a fast pace, and she finally enveloped you in her arms. "baby," you heard her say once she had you in her arms. it was soft enough for only you to hear. "oh, ellie," you said. you took a moment to hold her tightly and feel her close. she let go of you to avoid hurting you and took a moment to look at you, caressing your face, and you knew she was brushing off some dirt. ellie was about to say something when a doctor appeared behind her and ordered her to "sit down already." you laughed. you knew ellie had probably refused medical attention before finding you. She sat down beside you and took your hand in hers. a police officer approached to give them a blanket, and ellie covered both of you with it. you looked at her, a bit overwhelmed by emotions, and rested your head on her shoulder. "i know, baby, i know," she said, stroking your lower back. it was clear that they had a lot to talk about, but they couldn't do it here, surrounded by doctors and ellie's father.

a doctor approached to talk to both of you. they had concluded that both of you should go to the hospital to be properly examined, especially ellie, who had a nasty bump on her head. your heart ached at the thought of her being unconscious and alone in the forest without anyone to help her, and she felt a pang in her stomach thinking about the pain and fear you must have felt being injured and alone in the woods. joel arrived and informed you that your parents had been notified and would meet you at the hospital. with the help of ellie, joel, and a couple of nurses, you were lifted onto the ambulance stretcher, and ellie stayed with you to go to the hospital in the same vehicle. you weren't sure if that was the procedure for someone who had lost consciousness from a head injury, but you didn't think ellie cared either way.

once they closed the ambulance with you on the stretcher and Ellie sitting on one of the benches at the sides, they left you alone for a while to retrieve documentation. ellie took your hand. "i shouldn't have spoken to you like that. it was immature of me, and i'm so sorry, y/n. i never wanted to hurt you. i just couldn't control my anger, and it's completely unjustifiable. i'm new to healthy relationships, and i want to learn for you. let's not let it happen again because i love you, and you're the most beautiful, intelligent, and kind girl i've ever known. you were never and will never be just a quick fling to me, and i'm so sorry for making you feel that way. i had the best day with you before this shit in the woods happened. i'm truly sorry for ruining it like this. can you forgive me?" ellie said, looking at you with puppy eyes while caressing your hand. "i love you too, ellie. forgive me as well. i didn't handle the situation well, and i hurt you too." your hand had moved to caress her cheek, and ellie turned her head to kiss it. both of you quickly pulled apart as the driver got into the vehicle to start driving.

ellie rested her head on your lap. it seemed like an uncomfortable position, but it wasn't for ellie. she just wanted to feel closer to you. you stroked her hair to relax her on your lap, and ellie smiled. she seemed like she was about to fall asleep. "we look like we just came out of a bad suspense movie," ellie said with her eyes closed. "of course, because we just escaped an extreme situation, and i'm still perfectly groomed and made up," you replied in an arrogant tone. ellie chuckled to herself. "your jokes are worse than mine," she said. "i know, baby," you replied, tucking one of her reddish locks behind her ear. "do you have any idea how quickly they're going to fire the person who assigned us as partners?" ellie opened her eyes, looked at you, and laughed again. "poor bastard, he lost his job and made me gain a beautiful girlfriend."

[manic-maniac-man]

Eyescream Feb 2015

Takahiro Miyashita

[TAKAHIROMIYASHITATheSoloIst.] is scheduled to be presented in the form of an exhibition at the Paris Collection 2015-16AW in January 2015. Designer Miyashita Takahiro's long-awaited return to Paris has been a hot topic of conversation, and amidst all of this, the brand's first photo book was released on December 25, 2014. The book is entirely in black and white, and features three female models, making it a rather mysterious-looking book, but designer Miyashita's aesthetic sense permeates every corner. Could this really be the beginning of a new development for the brand?

Direction TAKAHIROMIYASHITATheSoloist.

Photography Yoshiki Suzuki

Styling Takahiro Miyashita

Hair & Make-up by Asami Nemoto

Models Kiyo Matsumoto, Hyunri, Osuzu

・When and how did the project for this photobook start?

"I think I heard about it around the beginning of 2014, maybe before spring. It's the first book to be published by a new publishing company (Unknown Books). We had made a book (catalog) once before, and it was the same people who had finished that. Since I was approached about it, I thought I'd give it a go. I thought this kind of thing would take longer than expected, but I wanted to shoot quickly. I set out to shoot in the morning, afternoon, and evening, but the first time it didn't go well due to the weather. In the end, I went to shoot three times."

◆Even though the magazine is mainly men's, all the models are girls.

"That's right. I decided on that from the beginning. I was only told it should be 80 pages long, and was told to do whatever I wanted, so I didn't want to make something that looked like a catalog or advertisement. I only used my own personal items, and hardly used any of the Soloist's clothes."

●But it fits perfectly, including the fit. Did you work on styling it with Miyashita-san?

"Yes. I just did the styling. I also wanted to design the book myself, so I added text and things like that. There was no special title. After I finished, I thought, 'This doesn't have a title,' and I thought this was good."

◆There are a lot of handwritten letters in the design, including the cover.

"MOGNO6 is a letter artist and typographer. I was introduced to him by Ya-kun (Takagi Yasuyuki/photographer). He is so cool, so I gave him a photo and asked him to create some letters that would go with the photo."

◆ Did you put a lot of thought into the design as well?

"No, it's pretty quick. Even if I plan things out from the beginning, sometimes it's not a very good idea when I get to the scene, so I often think about it as I go along. I think hard beforehand, but it usually doesn't come to fruition (laughs). Coordination, I didn't put anything together. I just brought a lot of things and said, "Put this on," and we piled on ideas."

- They're all in black and white. Are you shooting them on film?

"The basics are digital and Polaroid. For the digital ones, I had planned to edit all the images from the beginning. I told the photographer, Yoshiki Suzuki, that I wanted a beautiful rough texture, so I asked him to edit them to the limit. I didn't want to do something that was already set in stone. I wanted to leave them in an unfinished state, with the feeling that there was more to come. He's a very skillful person, so I think that's why he leaned towards me when taking the photos. I also took the photos from "The Impossible" with a Polaroid. All of the rough ones are like that, and I think there are seven of them, including the cover."

◆It's a really mysterious book because miraculously it all works together without any sense of incongruity.

"It's strange, isn't it? I don't know what I'm trying to say (laughs). I don't really want to say anything. So I just go blank. You're like, what is it? I can only answer, "It's nothing." I don't think too much about it. I didn't think anything of it when I was doing it, but when I actually did it, it felt like a trailer for something."

◆If that's the case, it looks like it might continue.

"I don't know. I'd like to do it if I have the opportunity. I'd like to publish about one book a year, but...

I'm grateful for this first book."

TAKAHIROMIYASHITATheSoloist. Photobook

Hardcover: 84 pages (including cover)

B4 size ¥10,000

[shinsengumi-archives]

Anecdotes about Hijikata Toshizo

When he was a child, he used to practice sumo wrestling naked on a pillar in his house after getting out of the bath. The pillar still remains today.

When his nephew (Tamekichi, Sato Hikogoro's third son) fell down in the garden and cut his forehead, he immediately rushed to the scene. He laughed and said, "The boy has a wound on his face now. Congratulations! Congratulations!"

The only extant record of Toshizo in the Tennen Rishinryu dojo is the Chugokui Mokuroku. It seems that he was unable to let go of the habits of the various styles he had learned while peddling. However, it’s said that he was very strong in actual combat. (During a swordfight, he would hit his opponent with the sand under his feet and cut him down while he flinched, or strangle him by throwing his haori at him.)

He is said to have devised strict rules, such as "jinchu-hojo" and "kachu-hojo," and to have showered his merciless blade on traitors and outcasts, earning him the nickname "Demon Vice-Commander", and is usually described as a ruthless man. However, according to Nakajima Noboru, a Shinsengumi member who even followed him to Hakodate, at the time of the Hakodate War, he was "mild-mannered and adored like a mother. It is said that he often took young soldiers out to eat and drink and gave them advice.

He was a kimono maker, so he was better than most women at cutting fabric with scissors.

He loved takuan (pickled turnips), and once received a whole barrel of it as a souvenir from a relative's house.

He had a face that was popular among women. The sister of a Byakkotai member wrote in her diary of the day she accompanied her brother to see Toshizo, "He was a nice, fair-skinned man."

He was also described by men of the same sex as a handsome man.

And a little more about the secret story of the formation of the Shinsengumi...

The man behind the formation of the Shinsengumi was Hijikata Toshizo's brother-in-law, Sato Hikogoro (husband of his sister Nobu).

He was under the direct control of Egawa Eiryu (江川英龍), a shogunate vassal, and it seems that Egawa approached him with the idea of a farmer's army, which he passed on to Toshizo.

The Shinsengumi, a meritocratic organization controlled by Toshizo that did not depend on status, seems to have been an implementation of Eiryu's modern concept of a farmer's army.

Interestingly, Eiryu was also the teacher of Sakuma Shozan, and through Shozan, his student Yoshida Shoin may have drafted the original idea of the grassroots soldiers, "Kiheitai".

The Shinsengumi and the Kiheitai may have shared the same roots 😲

Kondo Isami and Hijikata Toshizo met through the dojo that Hikogoro built in his house. He was also a financial supporter of the Shinsengumi.

Without Sato Hikogoro, the Shinsengumi might not have existed.

References

歴史群像シリーズ 土方歳三

新 歴史群像シリーズ 土方歳三

聞き書き新選組, by Sato Satoshi (descendant of Sato Hikogoro), published by Shinmono Oraisha, Inc.

子孫が語る土方歳三, by Hijikata Megumi (descendant of Kiroku, Hijikata Toshizo's elder brother), published by Shinbunjo-Oraisha.

Kondo Isami, Hijikata Toshizo, Sato Hikogoro, Egawa Eiryu in Wikipedia

Other information on fan sites, and many books by 新紀元社 and 新人物往来社.

[the-leg-supreme]

The Origins Of The Infantalization Of Women In Today’s Society and Media.

-What is the ‘Infantalization of women’?-

Infantilization refers to the portrayal of women as childlike, helpless, and dependent on others. In recent years, this portrayal has become increasingly common in media and advertising, perpetuating the idea that women are not capable of making their own decisions and require guidance from men, and that to be ‘feminine’, one must be docile, submissive and small, both physically and in the sense of being quiet and unassertive.

This infantilization of women has real-world consequences. Women are seen as less capable than men, and are often treated like children rather than equals, with the 'ideal woman' being portrayed with mainly childlike qualities of submission, innocence, and helplessness. Women are expected to be submissive and obedient, and up until recently, were repeatedly denied opportunities for education and professional advancement. Women who did assert themselves were often accused of being “difficult”, “aggressive” or “unfeminine.”

Even through language, a subtle image of a woman is painted, in which ambitious women are labeled bossy and controlling, their dominance seen as nothing more than a tantrum. They are told that they are not seen as a feminine woman unless they are docile, submissive, and quiet.

-Lolita-

The origins of this phenomenon in mass media can be largely traced back to the controversial yet popular novel ‘Lolita’, written by Vladimir Nabokov. The plot of this novel focuses on the relationship between a middle-aged man, Humbert, and his twelve-year-old stepdaughter Dolores, or as he calls her, Lolita. 

Even though in the novel, Nabakov repeatedly emphasizes that there is nothing conventionally beautiful about Lolita, Kubrick’s film adaptation of the novel airbrushes this character into a 1950s pinup model. In this film adaptation, Lolita is heavily sexualized despite being just twelve years old, not being portrayed as a victim as she rightly should but instead, as a provocative and helpless child-woman, while the novel’s Lolita is described as a tomboyish, malodorous (smelly) little urchin. Humbert comments on her ‘monkeyish nimbleness’ in the book. In her introductory shot, Lolita is dressed in only a bikini, lying provocatively so that her hips and legs are accented, wearing a sultry expression on her face. Again, this character is only twelve years old and Sue Lyon, the actress who portrayed twelve-year-old Lolita on screen, was only fourteen years old when she played this disgusting and over-sexualized role.

It's important to note that the infantilization of women is not unique to "Lolita" or to the time period in which it was published. Women have been infantilized throughout history, and continue to be infantilized today. But "Lolita" helped to popularize and normalize this trope, making it more difficult for women to assert their autonomy and demand equality.

-Young female celebrities-

The blurring of the line between childhood and womanhood in such cases is heavily related to the portrayal of women in the media in general, celebrity young women especially. 

For example, in magazines in the 2000s, celebrities like Britney Spears and Alicia Silverstone, 17 and 19 years old respectively at the time, were featured in rolling stone magazine, their pictures featuring them with stereotypically childlike props such as stuffed toys and pink cord phones while wearing clothes that gave their images a strange edge of promiscuity for having such a childlike feel. The pictures taken of Britney Spears had her dressed in tiny pajama shorts and an open pajama top, fully exposing her black bra underneath. She was holding a Teletubby doll and a pink cord phone and was against a bright pink background and Alicia Silverstone's pictures had her clad in all bubblegum pink, i.e a pink t-shirt with a heart sewed on and frilly pink undies and a couple different pink hats, against a pink background. She had a fluffy pink stuffed animal with her in some pictures and was posed with her legs splayed open, looking up at the camera.

Even in social media today, the Infantalization of women is constantly being shown to young girls, which can have very harmful effects on today’s youth, perpetuating an unrealistic beauty standard that might lead to eating disorders, body dysmorphia, or various other issues, not to mention promoting the idea that to be “feminine”, girls should strive to look and be young and innocent and helpless. Furthermore, infantilization can discourage girls from pursuing their goals and aspirations, as they may believe that they are not capable of achieving them. 

In conclusion, the infantilization of women in today's society is a concerning trend that is perpetuated by mainstream media. It has a profound impact on young girls, leading to a lack of confidence, unrealistic beauty standards, and a reluctance to pursue their goals and aspirations. To combat this trend, it is essential to promote positive role models and messages that encourage girls to be confident, assertive, and independent. We all have a role to play in promoting a healthy self-image and combating the negative effects of infantilization, for the betterment of our society and to get one step closer to achieving true gender equality.

[sensitiveuser]

Portrait of a Communard (2): André Léo (1824-1900)

In my first post, I gave you a general overview of the memory of the Paris Commune, chronologically, without going into detail. However, don’t worry, I don’t forget the important role that women played in the insurrection! I attach great importance to the history of feminism and the role played by great heroines (more or less known) in the struggle for women’s emancipation.

But who are the women communards? A person more or less passionate about history, who is not a specialist in the Paris Commune but who has a vague idea of ​​it, knows at least Louise Michel, The Red Virgin! She is also the first character of the Commune that I mentioned in my first post...

Let's get straight to the point. This post and the next one will be dedicated to a heroine in the history and memory of the Paris Commune, but also in the history of socialism and social struggles in general, and the fight for gender equality, is the aptly named Léodile Béra, otherwise known as André Léo…

Warning: In this post, I will only retrace the journey of André Léo (such a rich and honorable journey) before the Paris Commune. My next post will be dedicated to his fight throughout the Commune. I don't want to make posts too long (I'm just starting to master the principle of Tumblr posts ^^). And, to be honest, I love her, and I have so much to say about her…! :)

Léodile Béra comes from a bourgeois family. She is the granddaughter of a member of the Society of Friends of the Constitution.

A few days after Napoleon III's coup d'état in December 1851, she married Pierre-Grégoire Champseix, a socialist typographer and journalist (close to Pierre Leroux), who had taken refuge in Lausanne in 1850 because of his accusation of press offences.

In 1860, due to the amnesty, Léodile and Pierre-Grégoire returned to French soil. It was there that she gave herself the pseudonym "André Léo" (these are the firsts names of her two children). he published many novels, criticizing the place of women in society: Un Mariage Scandaleux (1862), La Vieille Fille (1864), Jacques Galéron and Les Deux Filles de Monsieur Plichon (1865), Un divorce (1866), L'Idéal au village (1867), Attendre - Espérer and Double Histoire (1868), Aline - Ali (1869).

In 1866, André Léo founded the Association for the Improvement of Women's Education. She was one of those "feminist" activists (the term did not yet exist, was limited to the medical field, and was used by truly misogynistic men!) who wanted to develop women's education and improve its content, methods, and purpose. In her letter to Victor Duruy, Minister of Public Instruction, she expressed her criticism of Catholic education. In 1868, alongside eighteen other women, including Maria Deraismes and Paule Minck (Don't worry, I'll have the opportunity to talk about them later), she published a Manifesto in favor of women's rights. She then founded the Women's Rights League. This league was dedicated to spreading a Demand for Civil Rights.

In 1869, alongside the schoolteacher Noémie Reclus and her cousins ​​(the famous Elisée Reclus and his brother Elie), André Léo founded the Society for the Demand of Women's Rights, a mixed society. She participated in writing a manifesto demanding a reform of the Napoleonic civil code; this manifesto was published in the newspaper "Le Droit des Femmes", a newspaper founded by Maria Deraismes and Léon Richer. She dismantled Proudhon's pseudo-misogynistic theory in her report "Women and Morals. Liberty or Monarchy". André Léo was aware of the links between the oppression of women by men and that of the proletariat by the bourgeoisie. She highlighted the relationship between socialism and gender equality. Thus, she virulently criticized the sexist ideas of the republicans and socialists. According to her, regarding the issue of women's freedom and gender equality, the revolutionaries (with the exception of Eugène Varlin, Léo Frankel, or the Reclus brothers) became conservatives !

In January 1870, alongside Louise Michel, she went to the funeral of the journalist Victor Noir. After the coup de La Vilette in August 1870, still with Louise Michel, she sent a petition to General Trochu, defending the Blanquist activists sentenced to death at the Blois trial for an alleged plot (against order, oppressors and social injustice!).

In January 1871, André Léo worked for the newspaper La République des Travailleurs. In this newspaper, she vehemently criticized the government of Jules Dufaure, General Trochu, Jules Favre, Ernest Picard; she also called for a popular revolt to defend Paris, with these pretty words: "To the barricades, women! May the French Republic, the real one, freed from its shackles (the Trochus, the Favres, the Picards), raise the great cry that restores the strong to themselves, overexcites the weak, terrifies the traitors (...) The Republic and freedom cannot and must not perish!" André Léo attacks the bourgeois who enrich themselves at the cost of the misery of the proletarians, and she demands the fair redistribution of foodstuffs.

[eppysboys]

Max Scheler and Astrid Kirchherr

-

INT: How did you collaborate with Max Scheler?

KIRCHHERR: In the Sixties Max was one of the most important photographers. For example he took pictures of the first transplantation of a heart living for for weeks in quarantaine with the patients. He was working for the Stern, later becoming the editor in chief of the magazine GEO. Together with him I was at the setting for A Hard Day’s Night in 1964.

INT: How did it get to this?

KIRCHHERR: Brian Epstein did not permit photographers. I called George because Stern magazine asked me to be the door opener. George said: 'I will talk to the others. According to me it’s okay when you come to London and take pictures. But they have to pay you, otherwise they may stay at home.' Max gave me a small camera which I never had worked with before. And there were some fine pictures as a result. Especially the pictures of children in Liverpool. Some of them looked really looked like figures in a Charles Dickens novel. (Interview with Astrid Kirchherr)

-

(The following is an Interview with Ulf Krüger, Astrid’s business partner and manager, from 'Astrid Kirchherr: A Retrospective'.)

INT: Did the feature in Stern magazine raise awareness of Astrid’s photography when it was published in 1964? 

Krüger: No, because that’s another story. Astrid was not famous as a photographer then but she was working as an assistant for a really famous photographer, Reinhart Wolf. Stern magazine asked Max Scheler, who was the chief photographer for Stern, to go to England to cover the filming of A Hard Day’s Night and go to Liverpool and see The Beatles. That was their rough idea, but in 1964 The Beatles, already at the top of their career, wouldn’t have reporters of any magazine at the time of filming. So Reinhart Wolf recommended Max (they were friends) ask Astrid to be a sort of ‘door opener’, not a photographer. To cut it very short, Astrid called The Beatles and asked if it was possible to have coverage and The Beatles said yes as long as she was part of it they could do it. So Astrid went to England with Max, but he was the photographer and Astrid was the ‘door opener’. Of course Max knew she was a photographer and gave her a camera and she took a lot of photos as well but she didn’t have the job from Stern magazine. When Astrid had shot film she gave the film to Max because he was the boss and Max gave all the films to Stern with his stamp on. So the articles in Stern magazine don’t mention the credit Astrid Kirchherr, it’s all Max Scheler. 

…

I found out where Max was living, called him, explained who I was and asked him why he had Astrid’s photos printed with his credit, and he told me he really didn’t know about that but acknowledged that I was right. He had sent all the films to Stern magazine and it was a Max Scheler thing so the credit was always Max Scheler. He apologised and asked to meet to return the negatives to Astrid which was great. So we met and Astrid and Max sorted out the photos and so the beautiful photos with the Liverpool kids ended up being Astrid Kirchherr copyright. Nice story. 

INT: Do you think the issues you confronted as Astrid’s manager were connected to her working as a female photographer at that time?

Krüger: I think it had a lot to do with that, especially being a special woman. Astrid used to dress in a special way when she met The Beatles, wearing leather trousers, leather jackets and things like that. That was really unusual for a young woman in Germany and I’m quite sure it was unusual in England as well, or in Japan or wherever. So, one one hand, she was special, maybe people were even a bit frightened because she was self-conscious and things like that. On the other hand, she was just a woman because business was dominated by men then, still is, and so that’s one of the additional problems I think. They only liked the Beatles photos because they couldn’t realise that a photo of Rory Storm for example is a beautiful classical shot, they didn’t realise it because it was not a Beatle and that could disappoint an artist heavily I think. So that’s how it was, still it’s a bit discriminating. Women are not paid like men, are not respected like men in many cases, and that’s not good, and it was much worse then. 

[burgerdrome]

Are you still a fan of Warhammer? I hope it’s been long enough that you aren’t scared of this restarting anything but like, I’m a fan myself and everyone I know is also one, and your article gave me some uncomfortable feelings of “what’s the woke way to enjoy this” lol

Hello! Thank you for the delightful question and thank you also for allowing me to be part of the authentic Tumblr experience of receiving an inbox message from a questionable username.

So I guess I think the question about whether there's a "woke way" to enjoy Warhammer is an unhelpful way to think about it (or about anything). It's okay to enjoy a pretend game about silly clanking armoured men just in the same way it's okay to enjoy a pretend video game where you drive a car over the speed limit.

I think a lot of leftists get caught up in ethical hand-wringing and sort of paralysed by how to move forward with something but the reality of participation in a capitalist system is that while you can be conscientious about your choices, at the end of the day you still have to, you know, make those choices. There isn't a perfect way to do it - there is no ethical consumption under capitalism!

One of the great things about the Warhammer hobby - hell, just about all tabletop gaming hobbies - is that the companies who make the products simply cannot stop you from buying them, building them, and playing with them in the way that you want. The fact that Warhammer (hell, D&D too, etc) is essentially imagination layered on top of painted bits of plastic means that the barrier to entry, and the conditions under which a corporation can control your entry, are astonishingly low.

But of course this means that a huge chunk of potential profit is going missing. One of the big ways that Games Workshop - hell, just about all tabletop gaming companies, really - has tried to maximise their profits in recent years has been to attempt to normalise the idea that to "play Warhammer" is to engage in brand loyalty rather than personal creativity - in other words, to own as much of your potential hobby ecosystem as possible.

Purchase your official Warhammer model from the official Warhammer store (good luck getting a pre-order from a local games store which has been deliberately understocked!), clip it from the sprue using official Citadel clippers, glue it with Citadel plastic glue while you're watching the official Warhammer Plus "loremasters" show, basecoat it with Citadel spray, make sure to play it using the new rules we released 3 months ago and which we will update in another book in 3 months time (which you will need to buy, you don't want to miss out!) etc, etc, etc. Deeply tiresome shit.

(Illustrative side note: Recently I saw a post on Facebook marketplace with someone saying "Can someone sell me a pair of Citadel clippers, my last ones broke!" Someone immediately responded to recommend going to buy a pair at Bunnings for $5, and the person legitimately had to be convinced that they were the same product and weren't going to, in some way, "hurt" the models.)

Of course while GW has a long history of trying to trick baffled Christmas aunties into buying spray paint from their stores for $30 instead of from Bunnings for $10, when I got into Warhammer in 1997 DIY creativity was explicitly encouraged and that was pretty much the whole point - Games Workshop literally published books telling you to go to construction sites to find basing sand, to repurpose old cardboard boxes to make buildings and walls, to use guitar strings to make power cables, to write your own missions, to invent your own Chapters (with rules to do so), to build your own characters and leaders, etc, etc. And I did! And it kicked ass.

The old codexes are full of examples of people scratchbuilding whole terrain sets, converting up models for characters that GW couldn't be arsed to provide - that sort of "make it your own! exercise your creativity!" ethos was baked into the very DNA of the hobby, and it has always stuck with me, even as GW has tried to backpedal away from it and focus on "how well can YOU paint OUR kits?"

So now for me I look at Warhammer the same way I might look at an art supply store. Yes I can buy one particular brand of paint or one particular brand of canvas when looking at doing up a new watercolour, but ultimately it's about picking what I think is going to allow me to exercise my creativity the most, or what I enjoy working with.

And when I do throw dice (I am a busy full-time employee with a mortgage and now mostly play small scale Kill Team skirmish games) I play against extremely chill people who have straight-up 3D printed accessories or whole models, or play in my local games club on old Malifaux terrain on a third party game mat, or whatever.

I buy all my models second hand online or purchase out-of-production things at swap meets. I use third-party paints and brushes, and 3D print up conversion parts that I need which I purchase online. I engage with the hobby on my terms and look at it as a way to express my own creativity, or as a series of building blocks to assemble in whichever way I see fit, because that's what makes me happy. Ultimately Games Workshop's colour schemes, lore, etc are (and only ever can be) suggestions - the only difference is that they used to explicitly tell you as much and encourage you to play around, and now they strongly encourage the opposite.

This isn't to cast shade on anyone who just buys GW models and paints them with GW paints or whatever. Doing that isn't somehow a fascist act or a one way ticket to Cancel Jail. They make some nice fucking models! And tbqh their Contrast paints are the best in class for that sort of thing (Army Builder "Speed Paint" ones suck ass).

Buying little toy dolls from companies (at least companies which aren't openly funding genocide) is only a problem if we do so uncritically or treat those little toy dolls as sacred idols and allow them to consume our personalities. That's when you end up with weird right-wing 40K Lore Youtubers with aquila tattoos.

[adriansvetozaroff]

I have two Star Wars OCs - Lamarr and Sheeku, but I usually call them "Outlanders". These are two men with a complicated relationship and a desire to travel. Their story grew out of two ideas: the first was a reflection on how two representatives of different cultures can interact and gain understanding of each other, and whether sincere feelings can destroy the barriers imposed by society, and the second was more of a joke - what if in a galaxy far, far away there was a travel show, like the Ukrainian show "Orel i Reshka". Actually, these guys do just that - they host a show in almost such a format. They called it "Outlanders", after the club where they met. There was also an element of self-irony in this title: some might find it strange that both hosts speak the Basic language with an accent, albeit not very pronounced, but since they are outlanders, this is forgivable for them. They are very different, each of them has a lot of problems in his head, and yet they are together. Soon I would like to tell more about them, but for now I have collected all the sketches, starting from the very first ones.

1. The first sketch of Lamarr. Initially, he was a tragic character, going through a long mental crisis. The second character was his temporary partner and existed in the story more to reveal this Neimoidian's experiences (the feeling of the gap between him and the rest of the world) than as a full participant. I still have their first dialogue recorded: in the capital, Lamarr tried to pass himself off as a Duros to avoid potential problems or questions about what he had seen and experienced, which he did not want to answer. However, a true Duros would certainly have recognized him as a Neimoidian. "What gave me away?" he asked. "My hands or my accent?". "The eyes," his interlocutor answered. "They are very sad."

2. Sketches of Lamarr's appearance - he has changed a little since then. Here I already outlined the style of his everyday clothes, and his personal protocol droid appeared, who also participates in this story.

3. Sketches of Sheeku's appearance, as well as the logo of the travel show. At some point, Sheeku also got an assistant droid, and for contrast, I chose an astromech. I often call him simply B2.

4. The first rough sketch of Sheeku and Lamarr together, which I turned into a full-fledged art later. I still like it.

5. The process of working on the a sheet with all the information about them, which I will also publish soon.

6. At some point, I had doubts whether I should make story more consistent with the format of the original show, and also to make it such that it would be possible to publish it on more resources, some of which have very inhumane rules, knowing that some of my followers remain there. For a while, doubts even won, but I felt uncomfortable and false in what came out, it just didn’t work for me, and I went back to the original version. I just understood: if those who watched me really valued me, they would find a way to follow me to a place where I was ok being myself. Since then, there remains a character who is now called Sheerua - Sheeku’s younger sister. She masters the profession of a shuttle pilot, assisted by an astromech droid of the same series as B2, but of an updated model.

7. Another sketch, later became a full-fledged art, and before that underwent changes. And also the process of working on the poster of the holodrama, which the characters were watching in this art.

So far, I don’t know whether this idea will turn into a full-fledged work - a series of comics or stories - since I’m afraid to take on another big project. But small sketches with these guys allow me to relax and rejoice. I decided that I am making this story primarily for myself, and it is important to me that it brings pleasure to me. Although, of course, I want to share pleasant emotions with those who will also like it.