#this author apparently things trigger warnings are ‘bullshit’

[kabutone]

hate people that have no trauma but decide to be judgmental of people that do. like jesus christ how about you go through something that pushes you to attempting suicide and then you can give your opinion on how people react to trauma

[tabbedtabby]

good luck, babe! | chapter 1

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: if you couldn’t tell from the title, this fic is inspired by “good luck, babe!” by chappell roan. if you’ve never heard it, definitely check it out. updates will most likely be weekly. i don’t know how some of y’all have the time to update every day lol. as a general warning for the whole fic, it will contain homophobia, derogatory language, substance abuse, and unhealthy relationships. other than that thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this first chapter!!

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Entering your third year of high school, you assumed you knew everything there was to know about North Shore.

Well, at least, how to steer clear of infamy. More specifically, Regina George and her shadows that followed her around like a pair of lost dogs. You knew the trouble and attention they brought with them, a constant trail of destruction that was almost as potent as the stench of their perfume. The secret to avoiding it was as simple as straying from the limelight. You kept to your group, stayed quiet, kept your head down. Didn’t do anything wild enough to trigger Regina’s predatory instincts. You couldn’t say you were afraid of her and her group, but honestly, harassment is the last thing you need as North Shore’s token plug. It would be plain stupid to garner more attention to yourself than necessary.

But even with all of that in mind, here you are, sitting in the principal’s office with enough anger in your chest to probably strangle the man sitting in front of you. Because you didn’t even fucking do what you’re being penalized for. But guess who told Mr. Duvall that you were taking pictures of girls changing in gym? Regina George. She could make up whatever she wanted and even the authority figures at this school would treat it like it was the holy grail. You stare at him with venom in your eyes as he explains to you that you will have to be suspended. For something you didn’t even do.

Regina was in your gym class. You had heard around that she was spreading rumors about you being a lesbian, but that’s not new information to literally anyone, so you didn’t especially care. Then people started giving you disgusted looks in the hallways, calling you some really nasty names, and even some of your close female friends started to avoid you. You didn’t know why until about 10 minutes ago. Apparently, you were the last person to know about your supposed photo collection.

When Mr. Duvall finally lets you leave, you feel the rage boil up inside of you before you can stop it. You’re going to get in so much trouble at home, and for what? Because the world’s most spoiled brat decided your reputation was the one to ruin this week? Does she even realize how her rumors can affect people? Obviously not, because she does it all the fucking time.

You’re way late to lunch, but the moment you step into that cafeteria, it’s like a wild dog being released into the ring. You skip on the lunch line and head straight towards the table where you see Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners talking with wide eyes to the blonde head of hair with her back to you. Regina. You lock on like a target, not glancing at anything else surrounding you. Your hands are bunched into fists at your sides as the anger rises up in your throat like bile. How dare she? How dare she completely make up this bullshit about you, get you suspended because of it? And why hasn’t anyone actually done something about it?

You see her turn around. Two ice blue eyes look up at you. Disgusted, maybe even a little confused as she sees you approaching her table. Because no one ever dares enter her territory. She thinks she’s above that. She doesn’t look at you more than a second, though, before your hands are ripping her off the bench by the collar of her shirt.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you practically snarl, your arms already dragging her towards the wall as you slam her against it. Your hands still grip the collar of her shirt, your anger almost palpable. You hear what you think to be Gretchen scream. The cafeteria descends into chaos around you. You don’t care. The only thing you’re concerned about is what’s in front of you right now.

Regina doesn’t even look slightly bothered. In fact, she cocks an eyebrow. Her eyes seem to glow with that malice now. Your hands grip the fabric of her shirt even tighter.

“Oh, no, did I hit a nerve?” she laughs, her eyes looking you over with a newfound disgust. Like you’re simply a piece of trash a wild animal found out it could not digest and spit back up. Like you’re beneath her. You hate the woman, but it’s almost impressive how controlled she is in moments like these.

“You’re just proving me right, you know. Just admit you’re the weird freak that everyone knows you are. I can’t stand a closet lesbo.” she sneers, pushing her face close enough to yours that you can feel her breath on your face.

Something in you snaps when she says those words. Because it’s not even true, and you’re the only person who seems to believe that. The anger’s hot in your chest. Its flames seem to carry your arms as you ball your right hand into a fist.

And you punch the Queen Bee of North Shore directly in the eye.

-

Your suspension was extended. Obviously.

You spend the next 2 weeks cleaning the house until your fingers peel and keeping up with your school work on your computer. People are talking about your fight with Regina all over Instagram and Regina’s acting like a total victim about the whole thing. People sending her their condolences and all that bullshit. As if she was dying and didn’t only get one punch to the face before someone pulled you off of her. It was your health teacher from last year; he seemed a little too eager to grab you and pull you off of Regina.

When you return to school, it seems people still believe those rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing rooms, because your peers are giving you the same sort of looks as before. They clear away from you when you walk past, but not in the worshipful kind of way they do for Regina. More like they’re disgusted to be around you.

Some people are impressed you stood up to her, though. You’re the first of your time. Janis ‘Imi’ike from your AP Lit class gives you a high five in the morning and you give her a big grin in return.

You see Regina in your gym class after lunch, and she looks as good as new. You’re a little disappointed. You kind of wanted to see her with that bright purple bruise on her eye that you’d seen all over Instagram. But there she was, looking like the perfectly crafted Barbie doll that she always seemed to be. Not even a stand of flawless blonde hair out of place. It made you mad. It’s like you did it all for nothing.

To your surprise, though, Regina ignores you. She doesn’t whisper to her minions while giving you dirty looks from across the room, doesn’t send them after you with a raise of her finger. It’s like you’re invisible to her. Honestly, you prefer it that way. You’re tired enough of this whole situation as it is. It’s a godsend she’s not making it worse today.

Coach Carr takes you all outside since it’s one of the last warm days until fall. You stick your Airpods in and walk the track, still keeping an eye on Regina. It’s not like her to not torment someone who got suspended because of one of her rumors. You don’t trust it at all, but she seems content with pretending you don’t exist. Since Karen and Gretchen aren’t in this class with her, Regina resorts to talking to the girls who aren’t quite Plastic, but are still high enough on the social pyramid for Regina to tolerate. You roll your eyes as they mindlessly follow her lead like a pack of lion cubs.

After a couple of minutes, you get bored and sneak off to the woods surrounding the track. Your coach wasn’t the most attentive person in the world, so it was pretty easy. You needed to smoke or you were going to go insane. You take an Airpod out and grab the cart out of your bra. Have to keep it non-suspicious.

You only plan on taking a few hits since it’s so concentrated and you still have another class after this. You come out here so much that you don’t even think about it. Until you hear a voice behind you.

“Are you smoking weed?”

Your neck nearly snaps when you whip your head around. Your heart sinks back down to your chest from your throat when you see Regina George standing there instead of Coach Carr.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” you immediately respond, your voice wavering a bit as you hadn’t even considered someone had seen you slip out. The weed had just started to hit and you could feel it amplify the fear in your chest, even though Regina wasn’t technically immediate danger. Although, your heart begins to race faster as you realize she will definitely try to get you in deeper shit because of this.

Regina begins to open her mouth before you immediately cut her off. “Before you go and tell everyone on this side of the country, everyone already knows. It’s not gonna do anything to ruin my reputation.” Your voice shakes similarly to your legs out of the pure shock of her finding you. You hate feeling cornered, but after your little tussle with her, you know how badly Regina must want to destroy you. Her eyes stare at you unflinchingly, unaffected by what you said. She looks smug enough to make you nervous. You don’t know if it’s because of the weed or your pounding chest, but it seems like minutes pass before Regina says anything else.

“What about Mr. Duvall? Does he know?” Fuck. You’re not getting out of this, are you? Your mouth begins to dry, the spit thick on your tongue as you think of a response. Your dad was already mad enough at you. You didn’t need this.

“No. But I can’t imagine it’ll go well for you if you tell him. I sell to half the school, including Karen. Everyone will be pissed if I get caught.” you respond, already feeling defeated, but you keep your tone searing. You’re taller than her; hopefully it makes you intimidating enough for her to have mercy. Regina doesn’t respond right away. All she does is raise an eyebrow, a smug smirk on one side of her mouth as you watch her consider her options. She’s flawlessly gorgeous in a way that’s enviable. But you kind of need her to not take away your source of income.

“Look, I smoke behind the baseball field every day after school. I’ll give you some for free if you just keep your damn mouth shut for once.” Your voice is almost pleading now. You wish she wasn’t so dead-set on ruining your life.

Time only gets slower as Regina’s smirk begins to widen. It’s a win-win situation for her, and she knows it.

“Fine. But you better not try to kiss me or anything.” she says slowly, spitting out the words like they’re poisonous.

You feel the relief pool in your stomach as soon as you hear those words. It must be obvious by the look on your face, because Regina laughs at you. She has that angry, disgusted sort of look in her eyes that you can’t quite figure out the reason for. It’s a shame because she’s so beautiful. Your body takes multiple seconds to keep up with your thoughts until a question crosses your mind.

“Did you follow me?” you ask, your voice a little too loud as you see her head turn back around.

“Obviously. I knew you weren’t sneaking off to do anything good,” she shoots back, the repugnant expression back on her face. She curls her lip at you before stalking off back to the track field, blonde hair flowing behind her.

How the hell did she even see you leave? Maybe you weren’t the only one paying attention to what the other was doing after your fight with her. But, why? Did she seriously think you were going to try and swing at her on your first day back?

You guess you’ll find out at 3:00P.M. behind the baseball field.

[mionghairearracht]

Oh shit yeah huh... do you think part of the reason why so many teens are anti fiction is because of the mandatory reading in schools so when they get on the internet they don't know how to exercise the choice they now have.

ALSO please check out "does the dog die" for mandatory readings as it has an extensive list of trigger warns and I hope it will help take the edge of atleast!

so like preface that we're on the end of a 4?5? day migraine and not the best with words right now. also pretty much any time you is used it's the general you

honestly we think the whole "force kids to read triggering material with no support or warning" is probably the cause of a ton of media related issues not just people* not understanding that the can disengage with triggering material, or that reading things can trigger you and that's completely independent of morality on anyone's part**

like the whole "you need to keep engaging with current events even if your triggered and/or burnt out" is basically what many people where taught for years directly and indirectly in school and by many authority figures.

kids and teens are constantly told their boundaries around media don't matter and that those bounderies can be violated for education. thus a shit ton of people thinking that the proper way to educate on current issues being expose yourself constantly even if you are triggered is a pretty natural consequence.

this also ties into the whole "people can't do media analysis" yeah no shit. if you are spending most of your time and energy dealing with the effects of being triggered by the thing you are supposed to analyze, you probably aren't actually learning much about the media or how to analyze it, that's what happens when you're triggered repeatedly

and yeah no shit you're going to think analysis is bullshit if your experience is "the thing i was forced to trigger myself into breakdowns to do" because that's fucking bullshit and a disgustingly normalized experience.

basically i think the lack of choice, respect for the bounderies and triggers of kids/teens, and the normalization of what's basically emotional abuse under the guise of education has fucked shit up

also does the dog die is great, i think we actually made a post about it a while ago thanks for reminding us of it

for books specifically we hightly recommend storygraph***. its a book tracking app that has an extensive inbuilt trigger list that users can add with reviews and there are a ton of books from bestsellers to indie and self published on there.

if you want to start reading but worry about triggers its a great resource.

and since this is long enough already, tangents/context notes are under the read more

*in our experience this effects people of all ages, and despite the idea of teens being particularly pro-censorship our experience is that its more a case of specific fandoms just having more young people in general and thus more young people who are pro-censorship (and those people being extremely loud and aggressive in general) driving/drowning out others; and the fact that a lot of pro-censorship groups online vs. offline are pretty different demographics wise and having issues with one doesn't guarantee experience with the other

**often people are taught that not being able to handle certain topics is basically a moral failing or willpower issue of their part, which is not true. this can lead to thinking that the moral failing actually came from the topic that hurt them, also not true.

the real problem was being forced to engage with it to the detriment of health under the threat of varies penalties, but that is a huge complex problem which isn't as easy to grasp or readily apparently

*** we really recommend it if you are a reader or looking for information on books in general not just triggers. its much better then goodreads imo and as a bonus you can actually filter out certain warnings from being shown in recommendations.

[nevis-the-skeleton]

Black Bird Fazbear Fright : Why it's a bad representation of school harassment

Hello everyone, today we are going to talk about one of the Fnaf Fazbear Fright stories: Black Bird. Well, I would like to warn you, I didn't read the story, because it is not available in my country, but I saw Dawko's summary, and I documented myself as best I could to have the best vision as clear as possible. And, from what I've seen, this story is frankly… Not bad, but it has a very bad moral! Not about apologizing and forgiving, but about the representation that is made of school bullying.

For the summary, a boy named Noel, who has harassed a girl in the past is pursued by a demon bird who haunts him and plunges him into the guilt of his actions, and the only way he has to escape release it and apologize to those to whom he has harmed. Well, that's a very rough summary, but it's so that those who haven't read the story can follow, because I think it's important that as many people as possible know what's wrong with this story.

Bullying is bad, yes I know I'm not learning you something, but apparently the author doesn't think so, or presented it in a very bad way! First, when Noel tells his friend Sam that he bullied a girl, he laughs about it, and it's only because Sam tells him that it's not funny that he questions himself a little. Come on, I can understand that, if he wasn't aware that what he did was wrong, why not. But, I think that from the moment you put a dead mole in someone's locker, it's not to make them laugh! It’s clearly meant to do harm!

Already, this point prevents me from becoming attached to Noel, but even then it is not that problematic, as long as the character questions himself, which he seems to do. The problem is how he questions himself, why he does it. Basically, he's being chased by Black Bird and his girlfriend is telling him that he should apologize to the girl he bullied. He says he's going to do it, but the second Black Bird is absent, he withdraws, like: "oh come on, I'll check that he's really there, because frankly I don't want to apologize." He didn't say it like that, but that's really how I felt it.

And it’s only because Black Bird comes back that he decides to apologize to Christine! Man, you can't be more selfish! He only apologizes for his own well-being, because he is afraid for his life! If my bully came back to me, with someone holding a knife to his throat, and forced him to apologize, I would not consider his apology valid. Since he's fucking threatening imminent death! So that’s already a very big negative point, but it’s not the worst!

When Noel goes to Christine, who seems to be doing very well (she is in good health, she has lots of friends and everything), she does not recognize him. Like, bruh, no actually! That's not how it works! A bullied person generally doesn't forget their bully, and certainly not the one who called her fat and shoved dead f*cking moles into her locker! This is basically not possible! But it's not just that, and honestly that's what triggers me the most, she thanks him for bullying her, because it made her stronger, opened her eyes, and allowed her to get better.

…

Really, I don't have the words… What kind of bullshit is this? What kind of morality is that?! What it teaches the reader, indirectly, is: “Bullying is good, it allows people to improve!”, “Come on, tell this shy kid that he’s fat and ugly, so he’ll start playing sports and take care of his health!” NO! NO! and NO! Sorry, but I'm angry right now! There is nothing more destructive than school bullying! This shit kills people every year, it doesn't help anyone, and it certainly doesn't make you better! It's not a funny thing, it's not a joke! This is truly the worst moral I have ever seen in a story!

Remember one thing: apologizing is good, forgiving is liberating, but bullying is the worst creation of humanity. That's all I have to say about this story, I'm sure some will disagree with my opinion, but I really needed to get this out of my mind.

[kamreadsandrecs]

Title: Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism

Author/s: Amanda Montell

Genre/s: nonfiction, history, language

Trigger/Content Warning/s: murder, suicide, physical and emotional abuse, substance abuse, cult behavior

Summary (from publisher's website): What makes “cults” so intriguing and frightening? What makes them powerful? The reason why so many of us binge Manson documentaries by the dozen and fall down rabbit holes researching suburban moms gone QAnon is because we’re looking for a satisfying explanation for what causes people to join—and more importantly, stay in—extreme groups. We secretly want to know: could it happen to me? Amanda Montell’s argument is that, on some level, it already has . . .

Our culture tends to provide pretty flimsy answers to questions of cult influence, mostly having to do with vague talk of “brainwashing.” But the true answer has nothing to do with freaky mind-control wizardry or Kool-Aid. In Cultish, Montell argues that the key to manufacturing intense ideology, community, and us/them attitudes all comes down to language. In both positive ways and shadowy ones, cultish language is something we hear—and are influenced by—every single day.  

Through juicy storytelling and cutting original research, Montell exposes the verbal elements that make a wide spectrum of communities “cultish,” revealing how they affect followers of groups as notorious as Heaven’s Gate, but also how they pervade our modern start-ups, Peloton leaderboards, and Instagram feeds. Incisive and darkly funny, this enrapturing take on the curious social science of power and belief will make you hear the fanatical language of “cultish” everywhere.

Buy Here: https://bookshop.org/p/books/cultish-the-language-of-fanaticism-amanda-montell/16290306

Spoiler-Free Review: This was a really intriguing read. Focusing on “cultish” language is a different tack from the other approaches I’ve seen other books taking, but I think this approach is way more personal because language is something we encounter everyday. We can read what people say on the internet, or we can listen to them talk, and have a variety of bells and whistles ping in our heads and tell us “This is bullshit” - or not, as the case may be.

One of the things I found valuable about this book was how it emphasized that it’s not education or “smarts” that make a person see through cultish language. In fact, in many cases it’s people who are considered smart and well-educated who are very susceptible to cultish language - and are often the hardest to shake out of it. On the sadder side of things, people who are optimistic and want to change the world are also some of the most susceptible to cult indoctrination, which just makes cults even more terrible because they take these genuinely good people and destroy them.

This book also tries to redefine some things we’ve come to associate with cults: things like brainwashing and mind control. By talking to scholars who actually study cults and cult-adjacent behaviors, the book actually points out that brainwashing and mind control just aren’t real. People can think for themselves, and are capable of resisting any kind of idea that they don’t agree with - which is also where the problem lies. If an idea is couched in the right words, or presented in the right way so as to make them agreeable to a person, then that person will be willing to adopt those ideas - even if they’re detrimental. Individual charisma certainly helps with this, but there’s also society as a whole: if a person is set up such that they come across as an authority figure to someone else, then their words will be more likely to be accepted with little to no questioning. Or for that matter, if a person is in desperate enough straits, they’ll be willing to accept a deal that they think will help them, even if it might turn out to be bad.

That being said, not all cultish language is necessarily bad. It all depends on context. For example: Alcoholics Anonymous apparently has a set of catchphrases and terms that their participants use to help them overcome their alcoholism. On the surface it can sound a little culty, but it’s being used for a good cause: to help people overcome their addiction. Similarly, a lot of marketing and advertising can use culty language, but that’s being done in a more “neutral” way because they’re trying to get you to buy a product or a service. If you don’t want to buy it, you can walk away, no one is going to pressure you to spend your money. Cultish language is dangerous only when it manipulates you into or encourages you to stay in a dangerous or destructive situation; or manipulates you into or encourages you to take dangerous or destructive actions (ex. the language of QAnon and Donald Trump - or, closer to home, the language used by Rodrigo Duterte and Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s adherents).

Overall, this was a fairly fast and insightful read. By talking about “cultish” language, the book lays out of the case of what that language might sound and look like, and how its used in different situations. However, while learning to identify that language out in the wild is useful, the book also cautions the reader that context is always key: language that sounds cultish can be used in many different ways, ranging from good to bad. It also reminds the reader that, where anger for the use of such language is warranted, the target of that anger should always be the perpetrator/s and never the victim/s.

Rating: five cult pamphlets

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

The Return of Doctor Who Part 1: Rumour Patrol

TRIGGER WARNING: I still hate Chris Chibnall; unneccessary bukkake references; a tractor-crash described in punishing detail; the tragedy of being Wales (Britain’s Designated Punchline Province).

So, Doctor Who’s back- or is going to be later this year! And if you’re thinking “but it never went away…?” in a confused tone of thought, then congratulations on being completely fucking oblivious! The last few years have been… a car crash. But a not a fun car crash with lots of blood and guts to gawk at… more like one of those crap, country road car crashes where you pass a tractor upside down in a ditch with a farmer standing looking mournfully at it and wonder how something so slow and heavy failed to do the one thing it was trying to do so fucking miserably. That level of car-crash. So, when I say ‘Doctor Who’s back!’, what I mean is that Doctor Who is once more going to star talented actors and actresses and be written by experienced, skilled screen-writers who have paid their dues and actually have a handle on the genre their working in, as well as how to use themes, subtlety and subtext.

Now, to you or I or any sensible person, this just seems like straight-up good news. Russel T. Davies, who brought the show back to life in ‘05 is going to be showrunner, David Tennant is going to star, followed by Ncuti Gatwa (a BAFTA-winning actor, enthusiastic Who fan and all-round chocolate sex machine). For normal, mentally healthy people, this is a confluence of wonderful events that categorically does not invite shit-stirring. For certain parts of the media, however, it’s an excuse to invent dementedly racist straw-men from whole cloth, spread stupid-arse rumours about casting decisions in the hope of getting a rise, and just generally talk bollocks and pedal nonsense for clicks. So, because I can’t stand to see the discourse on something I love dominated by towering wankers with the media literacy of four year olds, I’ve decided to round up the rumours and op-eds, put them in a row, and subject them to the Firing Squad of Actual Facts. In other words, I’ve done the bare minimum of due diligence that the mainstream media didn’t bother to do and am now going to tell you which headlines are true and which are horseshit.

THE RUMOUR: ROSE TYLER IS NOW A DARK-SKINNED TRANS WOMAN THE REALITY: This is, of course, absolute bullshit. The Guardian (which used to be fairly reputable, before they started letting nutters with no journalistic training write for them) got hold of the name ‘Rose’ and the name of a trans actress attached to the upcoming Doctor Who special, put two and two together and somehow came up with seven. Trans actress Yasmin Finney will be playing Donna Noble’s trans daughter, Rose Temple-Noble, not Rose Tyler. Amazingly, it turns out two people can be named Rose- one probably after the other. The Guardian article is absolutely fucking hilarious, however, on a number of levels. For a start, it’s just factually wrong in the way that an article published in a proper newspaper shouldn’t be, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. It takes the form of an imagined argument with a made-up racist transphobe so arch that it’s immediately obvious nobody on Earth has ever uttered their side of the fictional conversation. Additionally, the author seems to think that Rose Tyler is a Time Lord who can change her face like the Doctor (which is incorrect… although, if it turned out that absorbing the Time Vortex that one time rewrote her DNA, I’d totally be there for that. But that’s just me writing fanfic in my brain- not a real thing within the show). To put the icing on the cake, the article invites all those evil, bigoted fake fans to fuck off while (and I quote) “the rest of us have a blast.” Apparently, ‘the rest of us’ who will be enjoying Doctor Who once all the mean, bad people have left are people who, er, don’t watch Doctor Who or know how to research really basic casting decisions. Genius.

THE RUMOUR: AFORESAID YASMIN FINNEY WILL BE NCUTI GATWA’S DOCTOR’S COMPANION THE REALITY: This rumour is less stupid, in that it’s entirely possible she’ll have an important and ongoing role within the show once Gatwa takes over from David Tennant as the Doctor... but still no. She’s not the main, recurring companion for Gatwa’s Doctor. That honour goes to young up-and-comer Millie Gibson, who will be playing a character called Ruby Sunday. While we’re on the subject, I’d like to go on record and make a prediction right now, so we can check back and see if I was right in about, say, five years: while she doesn’t appeal to me personally (partly because I’m engaged and partly because she has less meat on her than ploughman’s sandwich), I predict Millie Gibson and her freakishly buoyant Jessica Rabbit chest-bongos will launch puberty early for an entire generation of Whovians. And now I’ve made that prediction… we play the waiting game. Preferably with our Bukkake-proof umbrellas raised and readied.

THE RUMOUR: NEIL PATRICK HARRIS WILL PLAY THE CELESTIAL TOYMAKER THE REALITY: This one is possible but, as far as I can tell, not confirmed at the time of writing. It seems that the Beeb has released a photo of Harris in costume… but not told us who he’s playing. The Celestial Toymaker seems like a reasonable guess, because he’s an entity with incredible, seemingly magical powers coupled to an eccentric demeanour and aesthetic, while Harris is a magician in real life (yet another reason to love the guy) whose general persona approximates the classic-era villain. The costume, of course, also fits the bill. I would be fucking delighted if this one turned out to be true, but let’s not get our knickers dripping with anticipation just yet. It’s still entirely possible he’s playing someone else. Maybe the Dream Lord from that one episode where the Doctor was basically torturing himself inside his own mind; maybe a classic antagonist so obscure even I don’t know who they are; maybe someone completely new, invented for the upcoming 60th Anniversary Special. We’ll just have to wait and see.

THE RUMOUR: GILLIAN ANDERSON MIGHT BE IN IT. THE REALITY: That would be great, because Gillian Anderson is basically the Second Lady of Sci-Fi after Sigourney Weaver (who’s kind of too American to fit comfortably into the quintessentially British Whoniverse, awesome though she is). However, at the moment, it’s sheer wishful thinking on behalf of the fans and on behalf of Gatwa, who’d apparently like to see her involved. Actually, since we’re occasionally going to be getting female regenerations from now, could we just cast her as the next Doctor after Gatwa? I mean, I know that gender-flipping is stupid because it erases an important part of a character’s identity (it’s a point I’ve made many times), but I also realise the toothpaste isn’t going back in the tube on this one, so we might as well just cast some really great actresses instead. So, yeah: Gillian Anderson for Doctor Who! Let’s start a petition before they accidentally hire a talent-free walking charisma-dampner instead! Don’t laugh- it’s happened once already. Twice if you include Collin, the crap one of the two Bakers.

And that’s pretty much it for the rumours. As it turns out, only one worth writing up was actively shit-stirry, while the others were… well, one was kinda dumb but understandable and a couple were just wild optimism. Honestly, that’s pretty cool. It’s nice not to have to spend hours of my life dismantling idiots for once- only mere minutes. Before I go, there are a couple of things that the media have been saying about the coming era of Doctor Who that aren’t rumours but which I feel I might as well address while we’re here.

1) Yasmin Finney said her casting and role in Doctor Who will “change the world”. To be clear, it definitely won’t. It might very slightly course-correct casting decision criteria in the BBC’s drama department, and it’ll be nice for trans people to see one of their own in an important role in a sci-fi drama, but ‘changing the world’ is definitely beyond the scope of a role in a piece of modestly-budgeted British genre fiction. That said, I’m not going to roll my eyes and tut too loudly- Finney’s young and excitable and you’re allowed to say stupid shit when you’re young and excitable. That’s what you’re teenage years and early twenties are for. That and substance abuse.

2) Loads of media outlets are going on about what a big deal it is that Gatwa is the first black Doctor in the show’s history. Again, I’m sure it’ll be lovely for non-white Brits to see one of their own in the lead role of the Beeb’s flagship sci-fi drama, but it’s not really a historic moment just because it happens to be a first. Britain isn’t America and, while we have our share of racist cretins, for the most part national and regional identity are much more prominent in our collective psyche than skin tone. Case in point, both black and white Irish people hate the English with equal intensity, everyone makes fun of the Welsh with no reference to colour, the Scottish are universally feared as hard-cases and Cornwall refers to the rest of us as ‘the mainland’ despite not being an island. Meanwhile, if the TV show Luther has taught us anything, it’s that we’re actually pretty good at judging a man by the contents of his character and not the colour of his skin. Provided a man’s an untidy megalomaniacal wreck with anger management issues and connections in the criminal underworld, most Brits will embrace him as truly One Of Our Own regardless of his ethnic heritage. I slightly suspect that the media is hoping the racists will come out of the woodwork over Gatwa’s casting so that it can go into smug preachy mode and score some Right Side of History points with thickos, but since this is the UK not the deep south of the US of A, that probably isn’t going to happen and they should stop embarrassing themselves. The gender-flip of the Chibnall/Whitaker era was capital-letters BAD and attracted backlash because, across every regeneration, certain aspects of the Doctor’s character were specifically male-coded or masculine, so the change was damaging to the character. The same just isn’t true of his skin colour- he’s culturally coded as British (despite being an alien) but not necessarily white or even class-conforming, so it just isn’t the same thing.

Right, glad we got all that sorted out. I’ve got a few more things to say about Doctor Who now that we’re heading into a period when it’ll be worth watching again, but those are definitely separate blogs. Expect to see those sometime this week. Until then, I never made the Doctor’s vow to never be cruel or cowardly, so if you’d like to fuck off before I get my shotgun, that’d be swell.

[grimwood-notice-board]

WOULD THE REAL WRITER PLEASE STAND UP

By Eldon Macwood

(Trigger warning: I'm not afraid of cussing, and it shows. If you have virgin ears that gets offended easily, don't read on. You do you. Reader discretion is advised)

So the other day, I learned that even though I have been writing off and on for over 13 years (longer, but I mean seriously), even though I have 100's of 1,000's words (pretty sure overall tally would end up in the seven figures) across my many wips, even though I have published some stories (through small presses, a couple on my own), that I am just a pretender, and not a real writer all because I now use AI as a tool in my writing. I was told this by another author. Of all the people to say such gatekeeping bullshit. I won't name them as that's frowned upon, unless you ask me directly. Although we share many mutuals on Facebook, I'm sure some who read this post will know who. I have literally imported my own material for fucks sake. Okay, moving on...

AI does come up with some great ideas. And yes, AI can write some okay prose. But the thing of it is, there's this thing called editing and rewriting. And back in my day, when I was considered a real writer, rewriting was considered WRITING. And of course, even then, people bickered over it being writing. I can't speak for REAL WRITERS, since I'm just a figment of your imagination as per the gatekeepers, but for people like me, the first draft always sucks. It's through multiple drafts where the story really comes together. For me, my first draft is called, draft 0. It's the word vomit of the story in a structure that's the clay on the wheel. Which is what I use AI for, along with my own writing in the pre-prose phase.

But now that AI is here, I am all wrong. Forget where I come from. Forget that rewriting is writing. In fact, even if you don't use AI, when you rewrite, you're not writing. Wait, maybe you are, since you didn't involve AI at all. I dunno, ask the fucking gatekeepers, they are the gods on the subject. They know all. They're the real gods of storytelling. Just ask them. They do enough chest-beating to prove it.

Gatekeepers do what I call, minimizing. It's when you hate a group of people for your own ignorant reasons, then you minimize them. They are suddenly not Human. They suddenly don't have the street cred that they held for years. Not to say I was some kind of best selling author with Sanderson level backlog, but still, I had enough cred as a writer. Now that has all changed, apparently. Not sure when, or how, but the gods have spoken.

According to one former friend and a writer (yes, he's still a writer even tho he's a gatekeeper, I don't take that title away, I don't have the right), any use of AI whatsoever will make what I write trash. Nice to fucking know. I have learned soooo much. Like who to unfriend. Don't get me wrong, with everything I have been going through lately, this is a cakewalk. I actually like having something less serious to be mad about. I mean, it is serious, but not on the level of my life right now.

But it still pains me because the writing community has went through so much in the past ten years. It just seems like this one is petty as fuck, all because some writers use a tool that abusers have, well, abused.

Again I say it, and I will keep saying until it sinks in, I don't support abusing AI. I support small presses trying their own best to keep out the AI submissions. I support authors choosing not to use AI one bit. I hate it when abusers steal an author's name and work and then posts it as their own. That's not what I consider gatekeeping. Authors all have their own rules for their writing process, and authors have a right to their brand and work. All presses have their rules for submissions. This has always been a thing, and it's a thing I fully support. Just like I support the writer/actor strikes going on right now, because they have every right to oppose AI replacing them. They deserve their jobs, and the pay to afford bills, and a life.

Me, I just use AI for my own shit. If I submit anywhere, I'd write under their rules, as it's their house. No problem.

Because I'm not a dick.

Now, when a gatekeeper wants to shit on me for my own use on my shit that I will publish, I will sink my teeth into their necks, not literally, that's gross. My reason for this is simple; you're free to avoid using AI all you want, but you're not free to shove it down my throat. You do you, you stay in your lane. I will do the same. But the moment you swerve into my lane, we will have problems. And it's serving in my lane when you trash talk authors like me, and the books I write. You do that, fuck you.

And I noticed from another author who is gone now, they did make a post I kinda agreed with. Although they still hate writers like me, they were mad because of the abusers who don't make it clear that they use AI in their books. Be it in the cover, or in their writing. As where I actually make it very clear I do use AI. I also make it very clear that I write a lot of my own stuff, and that AI is just a tool. I'm terrible at being a pretender as I'm not only an actual writer, but I also freely admit to using AI in the process. But they don't think about that.

While yes this is a rant, it's also to point out the growing divide between writers/readers, This will get messier. People are making their stands. It's sad. And it could have been avoided if many would have just took the time to get to those of us who use AI as a tool. Kinda like how bigots usually don't take the time to get to know the people they hate. They only confirm their own bias. But many love to be divisive, and to commit, othering, which then makes the other side, like mine, do the same. Because it's natural for the consequences to go there.

Get to know us. Get to know the people who aren't abusers. You might be surprised. And who knows, maybe we can start to mend this schism. Maybe. I'm not very hopeful about that, currently I'm saving all of my hope for my mother's health. But it would be nice to see this battle between us shrink. I will play nice if you do. Of course, that goes the other way as well.

Sometimes I have to remind myself when to stop because a thick head won't listen. And then I'm just wasting my time.

This being said, if you respect me, and respect writers/authors who use the tool, we're good. If you don't we're not. Don't waste our time fighting. If you gatekeep, leave me be. Unfriend or block. Just pull the plug. I will leave you alone, no worries. That way we can just focus on our own shit. Don't add more fuel to the fire, thus making the gatekeepers look worse than they already look.

I want to share shit I enjoy. I want to have more positive interactions on here. I know we are all burned out, I know we all have shit we care about and defend. But these days, we need to do better. Lets actually do our research. I know, that's not a popular term. I mean it as in, don't confirm your prejudice. I mean, challenge your prejudice. I did. When I came to AI, I looked at all the sides before I made my stance. And even as a pro-AI person, I was skeptical about AI in writing. But looking into it, and getting to REAL writers, I saw that I was wrong. It's okay to be wrong. There's no shame in that.

I want to get to the point where I don't have to make disclaimer after disclaimer when I talk about using AI. Sadly, I don't see that happening anytime soon. Lately, I have been putting distance between me and other authors who gatekeep. Many of them are self-published authors who have faced gatekeepers shitting on SP authors and books all because some people have abused SP books.

Abuse in publishing, and stealing works is nothing new. It's easier now, but it's not new. Assholes will do what assholes so, shit everywhere, make a fucking mess, with zero disregard. That's why they're assholes. But other authors, or writers, should fucking know better. We should stand united on matters like this. I'm tired of seeing us split apart. We already have plenty of reasons to not get along thanks to stupid politics, but at least with writing, we could come together some. Well, now that's not a thing unless we find a segmented group we can get along with. And each group is getting smaller, and smaller.

If you're a decent person who just wants to learn more, please reach out to me, or look up channels on YouTube where authors go over what AI tools mean for creating stories and art.

Check out Sudowrite here, if you're curious about the site.

Check out what kindest author I know has to say on the matter: Ekello Harrid.

Check out the Nerdy Novelist, Jason Hamilton here.

Check out the Future Fiction Academy here.

Check out Sudowrite's YouTube channel.

These are the top channels that I watched when I was deciding on using Sudowrite. They also cover other platforms like, Claude, Poe, Chat GPT, etc.

I really hope to meet more like-minded creators, and authors, and writers, and story-tellers (whichever term you prefer) who are pro-AI for legit purposes. I will never befriend an AI-abuser, or an AI-phobe. I will draw the line on both.

Thanks for reading, and I'll catch you later!

(If you're not a troll, if you don't spew hatred, feel free to leave a comment!)

[northern-passage]

logging in to tumblr and peeking over at the IF community is like. a bunch of racist twc art. someone defending inc*st and comparing critical anons to the antisemitic and racist anons other authors have been getting. more bad twc art and also more inc*st (this is a thing apparently). someone being overly familiar and uncomfortably possessive in an author’s inbox. some slurs sent on anon. another reader comparing a new wip to twc or soh despite being absolutely nothing like either of them (repeat this in infinitum). an author writing a whole essay on how they don’t like trigger warnings and how they’re bad actually or some other stupid bullshit i dont know i stopped reading. people saying soh is the best IF and ignoring the blatant racism and fetishization of japanese culture and i honestly can’t list everything wrong with that game we would be here all day it really is that fucking bad. even more bad twc art. someone unironically using the term sjw (derogatory) in 2021. a few more slurs, too, just for good measure. even more twc art. i log off

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[mypoisonedvine]

people will send the weirdest asks thinking they are entitled to things, no matter how well you spell stuff out for them, but its always so funny to me how people will straight up just take so much time and effort out of their day to make you aware of it as well

i got an ask saying that apparently i write too much smut and i have no self worth, like?? its clear theyre the ones with the problem and just are too ashamed about it

heres to laughing at random anon haters in 2022 cheers

ew i'm so sorry you got sent that that's such bullshit and not true at all! you can never write ENOUGH smut lmao

it is honestly sad for them that people like, take time out of their lives to send hate, even when I was triggered by a fic that was lacking appropriate/thorough warnings, I didn't attack the author bc it's just easier to move on and block as needed. and they were talking down to me like I was just too stupid to notice the content of my own fic, like... I really don't get it but okay go off I guess

(that said if you ever want me to put a warning for something in a fic of mine please let me know!! I'll accommodate as best I can)

yeah cheers fuck them haters I'm about to put this all behind me and get ready to post the first chapter of my new series!! which I'm so excited about! <3

[spicy-dunkaroo]

Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)

♫Now Playing: “Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)” by Spicy Dunkaroo…♪

❀Word Count: 2.5k

❀Rating: PG 13, 18+, Minors Do Not Interact (please)

❀Genre: Mythology AU!, Kelpie! Tamaki Amajiki, a pinch of Angst, very Fluffy, Maybe Smut (Still not sure yet)

❀Summary: Due to your job, you’re forced to visit a beautiful city in Scotland in order to get some reconnaissance on the locals. While on this trip, you grab a drink with a coworker and return home where you begin to notice strange things happen.

❀Warning(s): Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol use (Characters are aged up), and Mentions of Depression

❀Author's Note: Hello everyone!! This will be my first collaboration with the BNHarem server (Of hopefully many more). I hope that if you enjoy this story that you also go ahead and check out the other talented artists/writers that participated in this server collab here. I am beyond grateful to be working with so many amazing writers and artists that have helped me and inspired me to start writing!! I would also like to ask that if there are any warnings I might have missed, please do let me know. The last thing I want to do is have anyone read my story and get triggered because I didn’t properly put the warnings here.

Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy :)

☟❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀☟

Birds singing, leaves crunching, and the wind singing in your ears was all you could hear as the tour guide went on with their one-sided conversation of tour around Inverness, Scotland. If it weren’t for your worrisome supervisor, you’d be in the cute little cottage that you rented for the next few weeks, probably playing on your switch or watching Tigtog videos for hours on end. But noooo, they mandated that everyone had to go on this hour-long tour of the city to “get a nice perspective of the city” or whatever the hell they were rambling on about.

Each person was assigned a partner for the tours so they didn’t have to worry about anyone getting abducted or ‘lost’. Knowing better, you visibly rolled your eyes as your partner looked around like a kid in a candy store. Apparently the woman was from the marketing department as well, her name seeming to leave your memory as you squinted in her direction.

“You forgot my name again, didn’t you?”

“Pfft- no- no way!”

“Yea? Then what is it?”

“Uh, erm...It- it starts with a H, I know that!!”

“It’s Hoshi, or if you’d like to continue with formalities, Ms. Tenmei.”

Hanging your head in shame you look away. Getting lost in your thoughts once more, Hoshi taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, no worries! I’m pretty bad with names myself. How’s camera duty going?”

Saying this, the woman grabs the camera from your grasp, turning it back on to see the pictures you had taken thus far. Whistling, Hoshi looks back at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm that was painted across your face.

“I know this tour is the last thing either of us want to do, but the quicker you get all those pictures for the portfolio, the quicker we can get out of here and grab a drink. It’ll be my treat if you can get all of them before the end of the tour.”

Nodding your head, you grab the camera back from her, beginning to focus it on a nice view of the lake from the bridge the two of you were standing on. Before you can snap the shot, the tour-guide’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts as he begins to speak about a more interesting topic.

“It’s said that this lake has a kelpie spirit living within its waters. Although, that can be said about any lake that’s big enough to swim in.”

As most tourists begin to talk amongst themselves, you grip onto the expensive camera once more, hoping to find that perfect shot you had before the man’s shrilling voice had interrupted your train of thought.

“Mommy, what’s a kelpie?”

As the little boy spoke, you took the chance to snap the shot as a bird flew on the lake's surface, leaving a black blur on the perfect shot!

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

The tour guide you grew to despise butted into the pair’s conversation to answer the boys question.

“That’s a good question kiddo! It’s said that the origins of the Kelpie were originally told as warnings to women and children alike to be alert at all times when not around their loved ones. Despite this, you can ask any local in the area and most could tell you their story of encountering the supposed myth. I suppose we’ll never know till we see one for ourselves. Though, if you’re unlucky enough to encounter such a myth, there’s the chance that you won’t live to tell the tale...”

The boy trembled as he gripped his mother’s dress tighter in his clutch. Your partner begins to scoot closer to you as she whispers into your ear.

“Psst! Hey, what do you think about those ‘kelpie’ hm?”

“It sounds like some sort of folk-lore they tell all the tourists here.”

“Oh c’mon now, you’re no fun! I’d like to think they might not be as brutal as this guy says.”

Scoffing, you shake your partner’s hand from your shoulder as you look into the camera’s lens once more to take another picture.

‘I’m sure it’s all bullshit. There’s no such thing as a shape-shifting kel-‘

Thinking this, you suddenly feel your body begin to fall forward as the bridge railing suddenly let out from beneath you. Before you realize it, you open your eyes to see the water's surface only a mere foot or two from your own face, the camera hanging by your neck and grazing the lake, your body beginning to be pulled back to its upright position.

Turning around to thank whoever it was that just saved you from having to pay for the company camera, you look to see nobody behind you. Nobody seemed to even be around you as you see Hoshi following behind the group of tourists, leaving you in the dust. You begin to chase after the group as you shake off the entire encounter.

Shuffling your bag off of your shoulder you threw it into the nearby chair, slumping into the couch that was adjacent to the chair. You began to hum to yourself as you felt the effects of the beer contest you had with Hoshi who you now knew was your supervisor. Thinking to yourself you remember losing that contest the two of you set up.

‘It was nice of her to pay for us and to bring me back home even though I lost. I should thank her tomorrow and try to pay her back if I can.’

Suddenly feeling the effects of the liquid courage, you stood up a bit too quickly, reaching your hand out to the couch you were just laying on. Not sure what to do, you reached for your phone to scroll through Tigtog, that was until you began to hear something strange. From what you could tell, it sounded like a voice, though you weren’t sure if it was male or female. Curiosity began to take the lead as you stood upright once more. Looking around, you began to walk around the cottage, seeing if there was anything on that could be making that noise. Eventually you found yourself outside in what looked to be the backyard of your little cottage, swaying side to side as you tried to listen for the voice once more.

“Y/N? Are- are you there?”

Under normal circumstances, after hearing an unknown males voice you’d already be locking the backdoor behind you after racing to that door. Tonight, however, was not the case as you yelled back the best you could of a response.

“yYeaa! Wwwhooo- whoo arre yOU?”

After saying this, you suddenly began to burp, probably due to the alcohol. Despite everything you had experienced thus far, for some reason your fit of burps could not be funner to you at that very moment as the voice spoke once more.

“T-That’s not important r-right now. I just wanted to make sure you made it back home safe.”

The liquid courage that coursed through your veins decided that you wanted to find out more about this stranger and began to walk into the forest. You began to sway as you attempted to find them, calling out to them in hopes of convincing them to stay and hang out.

“OoooOh c’mON now!! Don’t be liiiike that! Wh-wherrrreeee are ya? Le-le-let’s hanggg ouT for a bit! I-I *hic* think there’s cards in the liv-livingg roooom~! We- we can play a gggame of poKER and- and see what’s in the fridge. Man, now I’m hungryyy!”

Despite your lack of sobriety at the moment, you began to hear a few leaves crunch nearby. It appeared that for some reason or another, what you lacked in logic you seemed to gain in your basic senses. This theory proved true as you sniffed the air, you noticed that there was a lake nearby.

‘Since when the hell did I know what a river smelled like?’

Before you can continue on with your train of thought, the stranger responds once more. They seemed a bit panicked as you heard a twig snap, followed by more leaves crunching beneath their feet you suspected.

“D-D-Don’t come any closer! Y-You should go back h-home, you’re not t-thinking rationally.”

Not wanting to take no for an answer, you continue to walk to the source of the sound, hearing what sounded like a cascading river growing louder. Looking through the trees, you noticed a few yards away the river you had just heard. You speak up once more as you begin to walk toward the river.

“I-I don’t want to be alone r-right now… It-it’s stupid I know, I just...I’d just like to talk, just for a little bit. Would that be okay?”

Your vision began to blur as you rushed to the river's edge. It didn’t matter now if the stranger responded or not, your world began to crash down around you as you looked at the reflection on the water's edge. Sitting on your knees, small whimpers escaped your lips out as you covered your face with your hands. Despite the literal lack of sight, your emotions consumed you as it felt that everything around you was losing the light that once shone in your hopeful eyes.

At this point, you couldn’t hear any signs of life as you gripped harder at your face, only the sound of your quiet cries for help being all that echoed through that hollow forest. Assuming the worst, you began to move your hands from your face, dropping them by your side once more as you looked at your reflection once again.

“Y-You said you wanted to talk? T-That’d be fine, just- just promise you won’t cry anymore?”

There's a beat of silence, it seemed that not even the wind could speak as your body froze. Sure, you could convince yourself that you were just hearing things, that you were just acting aloof because you were feeling lonely. If you could get yourself on the couch, you could wake up and even tell yourself that the whole experience was just a really surreal dream you had. What you couldn’t convince yourself was the half naked man that appeared to be standing a few feet behind you, his voice matching his lips as you watched them move.

‘Maybe- maybe I’m just seeing things? That-that has to be right, right?! But alcohol doesn’t cause hallucinations and I’m positive that none of my drinks were spiked. So- so...Who the hell is this!?!’

“Are- are you okay Y/N?”

Your body grew stiff as you heard your name roll off of his tongue. If you weren’t getting clearheaded before, you definitely were cold sober now. Those shy indigo eyes that seemed to stare back at your own off of the river's surface as they brought you back to your senses.

‘There is a strange, half-naked man, who somehow knows you by your name, staring at you- talking to you! He doesn’t seem very intimidating, but then again he is a stranger!! In the best case scenario, he could just be a nice guy who found someone in need. Worst case, he’s a psycho that found their next victim! I can’t keep my back turned like this, I have to do something and get the hell out of this!’

Taking a shallow breath in, you swiftly turn your entire body around, facing the stranger that now made your body shiver in fear as you looked up at him. Despite the appearance of the situation, the man seemed to be intimidated by you as he looked away.

‘He doesn’t really seem like he wants to hurt me. If anything, he’s scared of me? Maybe I can intimidate him to leave me alone? Though, I don’t think I could pull it off seeing as I’m still a bit drunk…’

“Y-Y/N?”

Looking back at the man, you notice he begins to reach his hand out toward you, slowly beginning to walk toward your crouched form. Worried for the worst, you scoot away as you respond.

“H-HEY!! D-Don’t come any c-closer! If-If you don’t I-I’ll- ACK!”

Speaking this, you only now notice that there didn’t seem to be any more ground beneath you as you felt your body begin to fall into the river.

“Y/N!”

Before you can process everything that’s happening, you close your eyes in anticipation for the cold water that was bound to drown you. The stranger grabs your wrist, holding your body up above the river, your body mere inches from being submerged in the cold water. Noticing the lack of impact, you flutter your eyes open as you look back at the man before you. Shocked, the man looks down at where he grabbed your wrists. Only now do you notice a purple hue that surrounded both your arms.

“What- what is this?!”

At a loss for words, the man can only look back between your face and where he held your wrist. Confused and scared, you rip your arm from his grip as you stand yourself back up. As you stare at the man, you look around, befuddled by whatever the hell had just happened.

While a part of you would love to ask what just happened, the more logical side of you knew that none of this was worth hanging around to find out. Dusting yourself off, the man speaks up once more as he looks away in what seemed to be guilt.

“Y-Y/N, I-I’m so so-sorry!! I-I didn’t mean to t-touch you- What have I done?!”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you began to shuffle around the man, holding your hands up in surrender as you attempted to empathize with the man. Although, you weren’t sure why he was so worried since he didn’t seem to do anything besides whatever that purple glow was moments before.

“Hey, hey! We don’t have to speak about any of this. I’ll go back and after that we won’t have to ever see each other ever again, okay?”

“Y/N, i-it’s not that simpl- h-Hey, WAIT!!”

Before he had a chance to explain, you sprinted back to your cute rental cottage that you were now wishing you never left. Looking back, you notice the man just stood there as you were almost home.

Suddenly, your body stopped moving. What was even stranger, your body seemed to freeze mid-sprint. Looking around, you noticed that somehow your head was able to move but your arms were stiff as you attempted to force your body to run once more. Just as you were about to give up, your legs moved once more, wobbling as they felt gravity work once more. Not taking any chances, you began to dash once more. Not a second later, your body rolled forward from some sort of large and heavy impact. After your body finished rolling forward, you noticed that you were sitting in the backyard of the cottage, the man sitting on his head as his body laid against the door.

“W-Who or-or What are you?”

The man sighs as he flutters his eyes open, rubbing his head as he looks up at you.

“M-My name’s T-Tamaki Amajiki, and- and I’m a kelpie…”

~End of Part 1~

[safarigirlsp]

People have the right to point out when a writer is going too far with a topic that is offensive and hurtful. They have the right to complain if something is triggering. You and other big blogs here try to police people about what they say and that’s more bullying than saying some fic is offensive to its author.

I took a while to reply because I toned my tenor down significantly in favor of largely saying my piece in gifs. Since it’s apparent that I’m dealing with some brand of immaturity to whom that should appeal.

Firstly, you’re right on one point. People do have the right to exercise free speech. People have the right to do all sorts of unsavory things. However, exercising that right in the form of anon turdliness makes you an asshole. Everyone has the right to say shitty things and hurl cowardly insults and critiques. Exercising that right in this context makes you a garbage human. To do so anonymously makes you a coward on top of it.

You say ‘when a writer is going too far with a topic that is offensive and hurtful.’

Number one- police yourself, you fucking child. If something will be offensive and hurtful, don’t read it. If that requires a level of foresight of which you are incapable, that is hardly the author’s problem.

Number two- ‘too far?’ Excuse you? Are you honestly so cloistered and narcissistic that you think your personal gauge of ‘too far’ should extend to any other person in existence? Do you honestly think that you have the right to impose your arbitrary values, tastes, and morals on anyone else? The next time you feel like hailing the moral high ground, please do without hiding behind anon while scouring the bowels of the internet for porn.

And ‘offensive and hurtful?’ To whom? Clearly, just to you, buddy. Again, what internal dysfunction would lead you to believe that your moral compass is the one that points true north?

You state that you ‘have a right to complain if something is triggering.’

Bullshit.

If something is not tagged correctly, it would be appropriate to mention that politely. However, even tags and warnings are not mandatory! They are a courtesy.

You have no right to complain about content and work product that you are consuming for free. Are you the sort of asshole who would go to dinner at someone else’s house and complain the steak is over cooked because you prefer rare?

Furthermore, the idea of complaining because something that you chose to interact with triggered you is beyond pathetic. That attitude and mindset is not going to serve you well in the real world. Try that bullshit in some real-world career setting and see how it flies. You’ll get a nice education about being triggered.

You then state that other big blogs and myself ‘try to police people about what they say.’

This is almost not worth responding to, other than to point out the laughable hypocrisy behind you accusing others of policing behavior two sentences after you accuse a writer of ‘going too far.’ Again, this entitled victim mentality will serve you well in life.

Bullying is trying to make someone else feel shitty for appropriately doing something they enjoy and minding their own business. Bullying is trying to shame people. Bullying is trying to force your opinions and values onto others. And it’s the mark of a coward to do so anonymously. Gee, who’s doing those things in this scenario?

What I’m curious about is why in the actual fuck you or anyone else feels the need to seek out a writer and go send them nasty shit? Whoever that writer may be or whatever their content may be!

Is it because you’re jealous of their talent and ability to create? That’s certainly how it seems.

You can always write your own stuff if you want something tailored to your whims. Put it out there into the ether. And deal with the bullshit yourself of randoms sending you their assholery.

You can also ignore content you don’t like and block people who piss you off. I know it’s a revolutionary concept, but you don’t have to engage with things you don’t enjoy.

Regardless, you should attempt to conduct yourself as a modicum of a responsible adult. The only person responsible at all for your emotions and reactions is you. It will be good practice for when you have to deal with humans in person instead of anonymously online.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: You know me too well

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: The mission. And some blowing off steam after that.

warnings: alcohol mention, some violence, language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT EVEN MORE THAN BEFORE

author’s note: I need to thank @vaneilla​ for planting the karaoke scene into my head. I found her choice of song absolutely glorious, and it evolved into... oh, see for yourselves.

As for everything else - I don’t even know.

4k words, bloody hell.

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“Thanks for nothing, Wheeler.”

She looked up from her tablet only to see a completely resigned Ives faceplanting on the couch in front of her. As she raised a brow, her glance drifted to The Protagonist pacing back and forth next to the window. 

When TP noticed the question in Wheeler’s eyes, he sighed. She realized that Ives must have filled him in already.

As if he could read her thoughts, the boss said, “Apparently, they’ve been at each other’s throats all day”

“You’re both damn lucky you don’t have to deal with their bullshit out there,” groaned Ives into the pillows.

Wheeler shook her head and a corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smile. 

“A little patience, guys. It's all going according to plan."

Ives muffled huff was enough of a comment, but TP stopped his pacing and shot her a confused look.

"How so?"

Wheeler bit her lip. It took her one minute around them in the canteen to guess what had happened. But if that somehow wasn’t obvious to her colleagues, she was in no place to share the information.

Of course, for a second she was tempted to say “oh, they fucked”,  just to watch Ives’ and TP’s reaction, but she knew better than to do so. Moreover, she had a weird feeling that those two morons would start being weird around them, and that wouldn’t help in the slightest. 

“Trust me, they are close to figuring it out. And then-...”

----------------

You rushed to the next cover, sending a round into a merc running in your direction. As you slid behind a crate and started reloading your rifle, the rest of the squad slowly made their way through the abandoned apartment complex. How all those mercenary groups kept getting their hands on inverted materials was beyond you, but as the boss was trying to figure it out, it was up to the ground teams to secure the cargo. 

"What's with the silent treatment today?" Neil’s voice rang in your earpiece. 

Your eyes quickly located him at the other side of the corridor. Even from a distance, you could see his raised brow as he glanced at you right before heading into the next room. 

"I'm focused on the mission,” you scoffed, checking out on the team before moving further ahead. “You should try that one day." 

As soon as you entered a new location, a bullet whizzed past you and your reflexes kicked in. A quick shot and you spun on your heel, hiding behind a pillar. 

Meanwhile, Neil glued his back to the wall. As another merc walked past him, he disarmed them in one swift move, tossing the gun away.

"Nah, I’m good,” he said casually. You watched him as he ducked under a fist flying at his face and threw a kidney punch himself. “Multitasking." 

You snorted, quite amused, jumping out of your cover to down two more men coming in. You caught Ives’ murderous glare as he moved past you, motioning you to keep up the pace. Nodding, you followed him into a staircase.

"I must admit, not hearing your voice almost made me forget how annoying you are,” you huffed through comms to Neil. Ives shot the merc waiting for you around the corner and you moved up. “And as I don't believe you can actually stop being annoying,” you continued, taking a position at the door, “but how about you don't talk to me ever again instead?" 

You heard footsteps behind you and as you looked over your shoulder, you saw Neil standing right there with his pistol cocked in his gloved hands. He leaned in, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"And lose that spiteful edge to sex we have going there?" he teased quietly and chuckled as your eyes widened at the audacity.

Wishing you could just shoot him in return, you turned away and entered the corridor. Ives waited for you at the door to another unfinished apartment and as soon as you reached him, he blasted through it, while Neil and his team took the door at the other side of the hall.  

"We, and I cannot stress this enough, do not have anything going there, blondie," you uttered through gritted teeth, sweeping through the rooms.

Sharp laughter resonated in your earpiece. 

"Sure sounds like someone needs round two, though."

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the events of that late evening in the locker room. Neither of you has mentioned it for the last couple of days, and you kinda hoped it would stay that way. Not that you could ever erase it from your memory. And the worst part was, there were moments you were no longer sure you would ever want to.

A movement in the corner of your eye. 

That confusion might keep you up at night, but with daylight, you came back to your senses, and a little remark was not enough to cloud your lightning reflexes while you held a gun. A shot echoed through the room and another merc dropped to the ground. 

"In your dreams," you scoffed on your way back to the corridor. 

"Funny you should say that…" 

You noticed Neil walking into the line of fire in the last second.

“Watch out!” you shouted, grabbing him by the vest and pulling him back inside the apartment. You shoved him against the wall and pressed your forearm to his chest to keep him in place as the round meant for him cut through the now empty hallway. While the rest of the team returned fire and pushed forward, you caught a glimpse of fear in the blue eyes just before Neil managed to compose himself. The corner of his lips twitched into a nervous version of his usual half-smile.

For fuck’s sake...

“Well, this brings back fond memories,” he panted, raising an eyebrow.

You flashed your teeth and pressed him to the wall even harder. 

“Shut up and focus, goddamnit, or I swear I will let you walk straight into the next rain of bullets,” you fumed. 

Your serious glare made Neil gulp and nod slowly. You took a step back as you exhaled shakily. 

Readjusting the rifle’s strap, you shook off any remains of panic from your system. Neil watched you with an indecipherable expression on his face as he reloaded his pistol. You met his eyes, just to make sure he was good to go. Finding there what you were looking for, you smacked his arm lightly and ran towards the sounds of combat.

You joined your squad, focusing on providing support as you closed in on the final location. Neil rushed to the front of the action, and even from afar you could see his moves got more vicious, every blow and shot landing now with deadly precision. For a second you wondered what exactly got triggered inside of him back there.

Whatever that was though, it wasn’t enough to hold his tongue for too long.

"Hey, at least now you had a chance to slam me against a wall."

You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, already regretting saving his infuriating ass. 

“You know, I daydream about strangling you more and more often every day.”

A few shots later, the all-clear sounded through the earpiece. You moved to secure the exit as Ives checked the contents of the crates in the back of the room. 

Neil took a position right next to you, eyeing you curiously.

“Is it a threat or a promise?”

Seeing the familiar roguish sparks sent your blood boiling.

You narrowed your eyes, letting a sly grin on your face.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“You two either kill or fuck each other already,” huffed Ives, walking by you with the most done expression you’d seen on him in years. “Whatever you decide, please keep it off comms, eh?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to blush furiously. Neil’s failed attempt at stifling an amused giggle wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

As you finally looked back at the bane of your existence, he tilted his head, biting his lip before speaking up again, and somehow you knew exactly what he was about to say.

“I’m up for whatever.”

You groaned.

...yep, that was it.

----------------

One of the teams’ unwinding rituals included going to the nearby pub for drinks and karaoke. You weren’t the biggest fan of singing in public yourself and no amount of alcohol could change that, but you never skipped the opportunity of watching your squadmates getting shitfaced and pouring their hearts out through the mic. That night was no different, and even though you were taking it easy with drinking, the rest of the crew was already deep in the party mood. 

You watched Wheeler singing Black Velvet from your spot at the counter. You used to spend much more time together, but she’d got designated to leading inverted teams and you got stuck at Ives’ squad. Not that you were complaining. 

You always had good banter with him, and even the unfortunate beginning of your relationship wasn’t enough to change that. You ended up being good friends and you knew he always had your back no matter what. Even when he was absolutely tired of your bullshit. 

You cringed at the memory of his comment earlier that day. 

And because the universe wasn’t done with tormenting you just yet, you felt Neil’s presence next to you. You turned your head and glanced at him, ready to meet his aggravating stare. To your surprise, you found him standing there with his eyes fixed on his drink instead, evidently having an internal battle with himself. 

Neil noticed your puzzled expression and took a big sip from the glass before looking at you. A sheepish smile on his lips was something new, and it only made you even more confused.

“Hey,” he said, raking the fingers through his hair. “Thank you. For earlier.”

“Don’t mention it,” you huffed, frowning slightly.

“It’s nice to know you have my back, just in case.”

You were annoyed that he was making such a big deal out of it. But there was something in the blue eyes that softened your gaze and you gave Neil a reassuring smile.

“Of course,” you said and cleared your throat. “Besides,“ - a corner of your lips twitched - “I couldn’t let you get killed in such a stupid way right under my nose, I wouldn’t want it to taint my next eval’.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No other reason?”

“Like what?” 

You regretted asking the question as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course, Neil’s eyes lit up in response and he smirked.

“You would miss me.”

"Ah, there it is," you snorted, fighting the urge to punch him. "For a moment I was scared I was starting to like you, thanks."

He chuckled. “Oh no, we wouldn't want that now, would we," he teased, leaning your way with a roguish smile.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the heart fluttering in your chest.

Neil hummed and downed his drink. A mischievous spark in his eyes suddenly made you nervous. 

“What now?” you asked, dreading the answer already.

Neil’s expression was nothing but innocent. 

“I believe it’s my turn.” 

You watched him make his way to the mic. Letting out a deep sigh, you shook your head. 

That man was going to be the death of you one day.

You finished your drink and joined the rest of the team in the booth right in front of the makeshift scene. As soon as you sat down, a familiar song started and your widened eyes darted at Neil, who was just casually adjusting the rolled-up sleeves of his striped shirt. 

...it must have been a mistake.

His wicked grin as he met your horrified gaze was enough to tell you he knew exactly what he was doing.

He started singing with no hesitation, smiling to himself.

Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around 

Neil’s eyes fixed on you and he raised a brow. A small incoherent noise escaped your mouth, luckily drowning in your squad’s encouraging whooping.

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down 

You met Wheeler’s amused look over the table.

“Why is he that way?” you whined, hiding your face in your palms. 

Underneath the starlight, starlight

There's a magical feeling so right 

You could hear the smile in his voice and you forced yourself to glance back at Neil. 

it will steal your heart tonight 

Catching your eyes again, he winked, making you exhale sharply in response.

You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

You thought about the way you evaded his kiss at that locker room and your chest tightened at that memory.

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

He knew the song by heart, and you couldn’t wrap your head around that fact.

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart

But you know, but you know that you

And by the way he commanded everyone’s attention, you saw it wasn’t his first performance. 

Can't fight the moonlight. No

His voice was clear and he was definitely having fun up there.

You can't fight it

...too much fun, if anybody asked you.

It's gonna get to your heart

He walked up to the booth and a spike of panic flashed in your brain.

There's no escaping love

He made his way to Ives, a mischievous grin lighting his face.

Once the gentle breeze

Neil ran a finger along your friend’s bearded jaw, leaving Ives frozen in shock. 

Weaves a spell upon your heart

Neil turned to you and your breath hitched as you realized what was about to happen.

No matter what you think

A few steps more.

It won't be too long

He stopped right in front of you.

'Til you're in my arms

He leaned your way, putting a finger under your chin and tilting it up gently.

Underneath the starlight, starlight

He moved even closer, his eyes wandering along your features.

We'll be lost in the rhythm so right

The emphasis on the last words combined with the look on his face made your mind go blank.

Feel it steal your heart tonight

...that was clearly his plan for the night, huh?

You forced yourself to start breathing again as Neil chuckled through the next line. 

Bloody hell, you hated the effect he had on you. 

You caught a glimpse of a smug smile before he turned away. Leveling your breath, you watched as he stepped back on the stage, hoping he wouldn’t have any other stupid ideas.

But Neil seemed to be satisfied with what he’d put you through and just continued the song. 

He even aimed for one of the high notes, scrunching his nose and giggling as his voice wavered for a second, and you couldn’t stop your lips from curling at the sight. There was something endearing in his joyful demeanor out there, and you wondered how many sides to him you had yet to discover.

Before you had a chance to get too soft, he finished singing and looked at you again. The dark shade in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. 

You needed another drink. Stat.

At least he had enough decency to let you collect yourself before he joined you at the bar. Neil ordered a vodka tonic and leaned his back against the counter, eyeing you curiously.

“So?”

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head. “For a second I thought you might start dancing on the counter."

He laughed at the reference.

"And for a second, I thought about doing that,” he said, reaching for his drink. He smiled slyly at your amused snort and continued, lowering his voice slightly, “but I didn't want you to lose your mind. Or faint, for that matter… I want you conscious for later."

Neil took a sip from the glass, savoring the effect of his words on you as you stared at him with a slack jaw.

"You want me--"

"Yes." 

You blinked rapidly, composing yourself. The last thing you needed was to give him the satisfaction of making you flustered so easily. 

But you couldn’t resist playing his game even for a moment. 

Just to see if he would back down.

"And what is it exactly that you think it's gonna happen later?" you said, taking a step in his direction. 

Neil raised a brow, turning your way. His gaze flared up as he searched your eyes for your intentions, moving even closer to you.

"Spoilers.”

"Riiight,” you smirked. The rising temperature between the two of you was slowly hazing over your mind, making your breath shallow as you taunted, “Or maybe you're all talk."

The throaty chuckle sent the heart racing in your chest. 

"Want to try me?" he teased, grazing his knuckles against your bare arm, and it took all your resolve not to tremble at the sensation. 

The pulse pounded in your ears as you took his drink from his hand, finishing it in one swing. You looked into his eyes, dark and yearning, and a corner of your lips curled.

"Well, no need to wait 'til the sun goes down', anymore."

“Blimey.”

A few moments later, you found yourself in an empty restroom, tugging at Neil’s shirt until your back hit the cold wall. His wicked grin widened at your eagerness as he grabbed your waist with one hand, running the other one through your hair. You splayed your palms on his heaving chest, moving them up to his neck to pull him closer. 

Neil tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you, but just as your lips were about to meet, your whole body tensed and it was enough to make him stop instantly. He pulled back to look at you, concerned.

"What's wrong?” he asked in a husky voice. 

You huffed, frustrated. At your own reaction. At him suddenly being all gentleman about it. And at yourself again, for not appreciating his concern. 

But it wasn’t the right moment to talk about it, and you were pretty sure he would be all weird about it if you didn’t say anything. 

"It's just--... “ you hesitated, your mind rushing to find any plausible excuse. As you finally found one, your face lit up and you nibbled at your bottom lip, staring at him challengingly. “Don't you get all soft on me now, blondie." 

You almost squirmed under his predatory gaze. Neil brought his hand to your throat, and as his fingers wrapped around it, he leaned to whisper to your ear.

"Suit yourself."

When his teeth grazed your earlobe, you gasped, feeling the feverish heat rushing through your veins. His mouth trailed down your neck as he moved his hand higher, tilting your chin with his thumb just before he brushed it against your lips. You shut your eyes and bit back a moan, feeling Neil smiling and then he ran the tip of his tongue along the crook of your neck.

All of the sudden, you heard voices on the other side of the door. Before you could react, Neil grabbed your hand and pulled you into the stall at the farthest corner of the restroom, turning the lock and pinning you to the wall again with your wrists above your head.

You exhaled sharply as you spotted the roguish sparks in his eyes. 

As some people entered the restroom, Neil stroked your temple with his nose and breathed, “Looks like we need to keep quiet.“ 

You swallowed hard and shuddered, the pulse thumping in your ears.

Still keeping his fingers wrapped around your wrists, his other hand wandered down your body slowly. He studied the way you melted into his touch, taking pleasure at the sight of the animalistic need that clouded your eyes. The last coherent thought left your mind when you felt his hand sliding under your dress, grazing against your thighs, higher and higher, and you bucked your hips, silently urging him to keep moving. 

Neil’s lips parted slightly and he leaned in, kissing your neck just as his fingers trailed under the hem of your panties right to your pulsing core. You threw the head back against the wall and your thighs tightened involuntarily as if to prevent him from backing away now.

“Christ, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet,” Neil chuckled breathlessly to your ear and yanked your underwear down your legs in one swift motion. Securing the grip on your wrists, he palmed over you again, moving his hand back and forth, his digits pressing against your folds firmer with every stroke and you let out an inaudible gasp, feeling the fire at the pit of your stomach growing by the minute. 

But when his thumb started rubbing circles over your clit, you buried your face in the crook of his neck to stifle a cry ready to escape your mouth any second now. Without skipping a beat, Neil gently tapped his foot on the side of your shoe and you instantly followed his suggestion, spreading your legs for him. He hummed in approval, slipping one, then two, fingers into you, and you sank your teeth in your bottom lip as the sudden bolt of pleasure seared your every nerve. 

Neil picked up the pace, curling his fingers inside you just right, and a quiet moan built in your throat and you nuzzled your face into his neck even further; the spicy scent of his cologne ingraining in your hazed mind with every shaky breath you took. 

Feeling you getting closer to the edge, Neil let go of your wrists and pushed you back on the wall. Cupping your face with his free hand, he pressed a thumb against your mouth firmly. You panted heavily as he kept tracing your parted lips in almost the same rhythm as his fingers slid in and out of your throbbing core. You closed your eyes as the fire from the pit of your stomach almost consumed you. 

And just when you thought that you couldn’t take much more, you felt the pad of his thumb grazing against the tip of your tongue at the same time the other one flicked your clit. Your mind went blank and you sucked on his finger, trying to muffle a whimper.

“Good girl,” Neil breathed into your ear. “Now come for me.”

And so you did, your every particle dissolving into a blissful pleasure roaming through your body wave after wave. 

When you regained your senses, you were greeted by the self-satisfied grin you knew all too well. You scoffed and shook your head, too much of a mess to form a coherent comment. You listened for a second, trying to figure out if there was anyone outside, but it seemed that you two were alone, at least for now. Then your eyes wandered down and your mouth watered at the sight. 

Without thinking twice over it, you palmed the bulk in Neil’s trousers, looking up to meet his gaze. 

The hint of surprise mixed with the sheer hunger in the dark blue eyes made your racing heart skip a bit.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, placing hands on your waist.

You nodded, your fingers already fighting with his belt. 

"Stop talking."

Neil raised a brow, amused. 

"Maybe you should ask nicely."

You looked at him in disbelief and turned towards the stall’s door, huffing, "Maybe I should leave you like this."

Neil wrapped his arms around you.

"Mhm," he murmured into your neck as he squeezed your breast, his other hand sliding down your body.

"Fuck--" you gasped as his fingers pressed to your clit again.

His throaty chuckle vibrated on your back.

"What was that?" 

You moaned, rolling your hips to brush against him.

"...please."

----------------

You dampened a paper towel to clean your smudged makeup.

"Wanna grab something to eat?"

You glanced at Neil’s reflection in the mirror, watching as he tucked the shirt in his pants.

"You're reading too much into this,” you tried to make your voice as casual as possible.

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed, joining you by the mirror. "What if I promise not to talk to you unless you ask me to?" 

You mused over it for a moment, staring at Neil’s attempts to fix his messy hair.

"And if you break the promise?"

The blue eyes met yours and lit up.

"I'll let you punish me however you see fit."

You scoffed. 

...but then a corner of your lips twitched into a half-smile.

(next chapter ->)

[soulmate-game]

Okay, I’m not sure if what I was trying to say in my last post was said very well.

I completely understand the tagging situation from the First Wave with the DC fans. That’s discourse that is mostly solved and we can’t do anything about those who are forever gonna be bitter or lazy. I’m not talking about that stuff.

The stuff I want to prevent/limit is the hate that comes after our fandom deliberately. And yes, I know I can’t stop it. None of us can stop bitter, antagonistic people from being bitter and antagonistic. None of us can stop people who just want to be angry.

I’m not talking about stopping them, though.

I’m talking about what we can do to protect ourselves as creators and consumers in this fandom. As people who love and appreciate what the creations and people in this fandom have to offer. In simplistic form, I’m saying we need to learn how to shield ourselves from bullies. And there are methods we can use to make ourselves less of a target to the people who go after us, and methods to cut their attacks off short. None of these methods are fool-proof, but they will work to filter out a good majority of the shit we would otherwise be showered by, like a big umbrella against Assholery. Sure, the wind might still blow some in our face and we might splash in a puddle or two by accident, but at least we aren’t soaked.

So let me list the various things that can help you shield yourself from hate/harassment/antis who might just be out to get you.

1) leave the fandom.

The most effective, but least attractive method possible. This is limited to being a last ditch effort, if things have just gotten too hard to handle. I’m covering it first though, because we have to acknowledge that it is a viable method. If you feel trapped, hated, bullied, I’m sure all of us in this fandom would prefer you take a break and leave us for a while in the sake of your own health and safety then stay where you are miserable. This is less of a problem for us though, because mostly this option is gonna be for fandoms where the discourse and attacks are internal. Maribat is largely a peaceful and supportive/healthy environment once you’re inside our little bubble, the main discourse comes from outside in. So let’s focus on the main point of this post— how to keep our bubble from popping.

2) Make it apparent right away that you are Unapologetic.

Whenever you post content or are approached by someone about the topic of your fandom, don’t you DARE ever apologize for liking what you like or posting unproblematic content. You need to make it clear right off the bat that you are not gonna be swayed, bullied, or shamed out of your fandom. Stand with pride and make it clear, but don’t be verbose about it. A simple “Don’t like, don’t read” is classic but sometimes if you’re posting/talking during a more confrontational period of the fandom, you need to up your game to reflect that. The funny thing is, people can easily be intimidated by swearing if it isn’t directed at them or clearly antagonistic. If you’re swearing in a joking, casual or even in a manner that shows you’re not taking yourself too seriously, people will usually avoid picking fights with you. For this, my favorite lines to use on my work include;

“Don’t like, I don’t fucking care. I fell down the rabbit hole.”

“Don’t bother reading if you’re not into this, this shit bitch-slapped me and dragged me along on it’s adventure.”

“I’m addicted to this fandom, don’t bother trying to save me. If it bothers you, I don’t give a fuck. Save yourselves.”

3) Don’t approach or interact

Unless someone comes at you first, never try to persuade someone away from hating us. That just makes you a target in an empty field, for the vultures to surround and gang up on. If someone approaches you with provocative but not overly insulting or intelligent language— I.e; trying to start a fight, vague insults not always relating to the fandom itself, trying to insult your character/judgement— do not respond. Delete the message, block the account, and surround yourself with fluffy good stuff to forget the wanna-be harasser. These people are often not brave enough to outright start a fight, and want you to get defensive first so they know the weak points in your armor to exploit. Defensive statements declare your own insecurities, don’t get defensive. It gives them a way to win without having to defend themselves or feel vulnerable— it’s like exploiting type differences in Pokémon. You wait for an unfamiliar Pokémon to expose it’s type, then snipe it with the moves it’s weak to. Then, you have a near sure-fire win even with under leveled Pokémon on your team.

Don’t be a proud Infernape that gets sniped by a weak-ass level 5 Piplup. We’re strong, don’t show them the chinks in our armor.

4) Have a support network. Even if they don’t know they are your support network.

The fandom as a whole serves this purpose, and this is mostly gonna be a tactic you use when the discourse is inside the fandom, but there can be uses for this in discourse from outside the fandom as well. If someone tries to act like they like your story/art “but...” they passive aggressively state things they “would prefer” or they try to make it sound like you made stupid mistakes (a tactic to make you insecure about yourself) instead of kindly pointing out errors or offering constructive criticism (ex: “you know you put your trigger list somewhere where it’s useless right? Love your story though.)—THESE ARE ALL PROVOCATIONS. They are trying to make you insecure so that you change things about yourself, your work, or jump through hoops to try to “make it up” to them when you did nothing wrong and there are no problems to fix. Do not fall for it! Instead, politely as possible, bring the issue into a public space where you feel safe/trust the people in that space to keep the bullshit from escalating. For me, I straight up explain my reasoning for the placement of my trigger list as if I’m advertising a particularly boring but important product that I’m selling, then offer places for them to bring the issue into a discussion with others. I send them to a discoed group or right here to my tumblr, and I immediately make the issue into a big discussion (do YOU think there is anything to change? Let’s ALL talk about it) so that I am no longer isolated and easy for them to harass. They might refuse to join the discussion and further try to pressure you, but do not cave. Merely say that a public discussion has been started, and if they are actually, legitimately concerned about the way you do things then they can debate it in a public setting. This way, you have back up. 9/10 people who try to target you this way will back off and never enter the conversation you started.

5) Do not fight back.

This sounds counterintuitive, but a lot of the time once discourse gets this bad, arguing/defending/ trying to prove your point only fuels their rage more. I have found that people hate very little in this world more than they hate being wrong. And people who hate being wrong will fight to the bitter death about their opinions, no matter how invalid or hurtful they are, in the favor of their blissful ignorance. Remove yourself from harmful discussions or those that seem to be going in circles as soon as possible, and try to surround yourself in your support group. Never let people make you feel stupid, your opinions illegitimate, or your likes/dislikes invalid or evil.

6) Try to learn how to recognize bullies in disguise

It’s too much for me to try to cover here, but you need to PLEASE look into how to spot gaslighting. Tactics of gaslighting are often used to attack others and try to make them feel like their own opinions are invalid or their mindset untrustworthy. People will often approach you in the guise of friendship/support/ “I am not into this, but...” and while this is not always a red flag, we have to keep our eyes open for any signs of this person or their approach being rooted in anything other than legitimate curiosity or kindness. Not all suggestions that say they are out of concern actually ARE. Keep an eye out for warning signs, and cut off interaction once things seem like they may lead to an argument or you being in a vulnerable position if you continue interacting.

(Brief mention of s**cide and threats in the section below)

7) If all else fails, BLOCK THEM.

No hesitation, we don’t need this shit. They make a second account? Block that too. Don’t respond, only take screenshots or reblog if it is directly harmful information that can/should be documented (words that encourage suicide, threats, insults that seem a little too specific for comfort) and give the evidence to someone you trust to look out for you. A therapist, a family member, or even the authorities if you deem that necessary. Just don’t handle it alone.

We are not responsible for other people’s actions, opinions, or anger. Take the steps to protect yourself instead of trying to reconcile. Sometimes, reconciliation isn’t an option. Both parties have to be willing to reconcile, and it is clear they have nothing in mind but hurting us. So raise your shields and protect yourself and your friends, we’re not gonna lose a war to petty jerks.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, Present Mic x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Teen-ish, some references of sexual activity, but nothing explicit.

Trigger Warnings: None

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 10/16 (all chapters)

The last time you were in UA this late, you had given Shouta a faceful of pepper spray.

You shuddered as you swiped your ID and headed inside with Hizashi, still not sure you believed that any of this was real.

Only a matter of hours ago, you had been soaking in his bathtub, enveloped in far, far too many bubbles. You could still smell them against your skin, still feel the telltale ache between your thighs from your earlier activities.

Even as you strode through the corridors, Hizashi’s touches ghosted your body. You could still feel the tickles from where he had gotten down on his knees to fasten your shoes for you, the way he had stroked your hair and lulled you into sleep.

In many respects, you felt guilty. Hosu had burned while you paid for doughnuts. People had been grievously wounded while you cried out in pleasure. You had fallen asleep with your head on Hizashi’s chest while children came face to face with a serial killer.

Rationally speaking, you knew that there was nothing you could have done. You might have worked at UA but that didn’t change the fact that you were a civilian. Even if you had been on the scene, you would only have gotten in the way, but that knowledge did nothing to ease the pangs of guilt.

Several of the other teachers had already gathered in the conference room generally reserved for staff meetings. Several of them, including Shouta, had plainly come straight from patrolling the streets. Others, such as Cementoss, had been disturbed from sleep and still not quite woken up. Nezu sat at the head of the table, resting his head on his hands with a grave expression, while All Might paced the room, no doubt concerned for Midoriya.

You heard Shouta long before you saw him.

“This is bullshit and you know it.”

He was leaning against the wall, arms folded and looking furious, though where exactly that anger was directed you couldn’t be sure.

“Yo, yo, yo!” Hizashi called out as you entered the room. “Did someone call for a party?!”

Everyone turned to look in your direction, several rubbing their temples at the sudden noise. Shouta‘s eyes darted from you to Hizashi, plainly joining the dots.

You took in the stern faces and heavy atmosphere, before clapping your hands together.

“I’m going to make some coffee.”

~~~~

It took around half an hour for the rest of the faculty to arrive, by which time everyone had either taken a seat at the table or positioned themselves somewhere in the room. You sat down a few chairs down from Nezu, between Vlad and Hizashi. Shouta stayed on his feet, visibly agitated.

“I’ve called you all here to discuss the events in Hosu city,” said Nezu at last. “I’m sure you’ve all seen the news by now… but for those of you who haven’t…”

He pressed a button on the desk, switching on the enormous television screen behind him. You winced at the footage of Hosu shining like an inferno.

“Earlier this evening, the Hero Killer Stain was taken into police custody,” he said. “I’m sure you are all aware of his troubling history.”

Just about everyone had heard of the Hero Killer. He was responsible for the deaths of multiple heroes, as well as the critical injuries of many more. For most, he was a boogeyman.

“Recently, the hero killer struck in Hosu city, permanently disabling the hero Ingenium, also known as Iida Tensei,” said Nezu, “or, perhaps more importantly, the older brother of 1-A student Iida Tenya.”

You folded your arms and glanced at Shouta out of the corner of your eye, remembering a conversation you had had a week before.

You hadn’t talked much after he told you everything Hizashi liked, though that in itself wasn’t too far out of the ordinary. Shouta wasn’t a talkative person even when his schedule was forgiving.

He had knocked on your office door a little after lunch and sank down into the chair opposite your desk, arms folded and with a stony expression.

“Iida,” he had said, dropping a file on your desk. “I want you to speak to him.”

Earlier that day he had received a phone call from Iida’s mother, who was distressed to say the least about what had happened to the older of her sons. She had wanted UA to be aware of his situation and forgiving of any strange behaviour over the next few weeks. The worst case scenario would result in time off school.

Tenya would have needed counselling even without the grave circumstances of Tensei’s injuries and you met with him twice after the sports festival, though he had little interest in opening up. He thanked you for your concerns in the respectful manner you had come to expect from him, though shut down any attempt to discuss how he truly felt.

You and Shouta had both been concerned for him, though limited in exactly how far you could intervene. Never had it been more apparent than when he submitted his internship application. Shouta arrived in your office again, suspicious of the reasoning behind Tenya’s agency of choice, though Tenya himself denied any ulterior motives. Neither you nor Shouta had the power to deny him his agency of choice after both sides had agreed and so he had gone to work with Manual, now confirming all of your worst fears.

“Tonight, three of our students faced off against the hero killer, acting independently without the authority of their supervisors,” said Nezu. “Currently, we have only limited information available, but I do know that these students are Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya and Todoroki Shoto.”

As the daughter of a prosecutor, you knew without having to ask that this was a serious situation.

Even before you knew how to read and write, you understood the basics of hero law. Your father had decided all of his children would be lawyers and every family meal swiftly turned into a game of rapid fire questions.

“Could it be,” you said, “you’re going to expel them?”

Nezu sighed, resting his head on his hands.

“The incident is currently under investigation,” he said, “but that is a likely outcome.”

“And I’m telling you, it’s bullshit,” said Shouta. “What’s the point in training heroes if we punish them for acts of heroism?”

“The laws on this matter are quite clear,” said Nezu, “albeit short sighted. If three of our best students are expelled, not only will our reputation suffer greatly but it will quickly feed into the rhetoric of villains. For heroes to be punished for saving lives...well...doesn’t that only add fuel to the argument that modern hero society encourages grandstanding more than it does justice?”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Hizashi piped up. “Character references, that sort of thing?”

“Unfortunately, our hands are tied. At present the case is in the hands of the authorities,” said Nezu, “and heroes in general cannot interfere with the law. We can only hope that they reach a favourable conclusion.”

“We do need a plan of action, though,” said Nemuri. “If the students are formally charged, there’ll be reporters halfway around the block by sunrise.”

“We’re currently lacking critical information,” sighed Nezu. “Any action we take now would be based on pure hypotheticals.”

You chewed your thumbnail and watched the television, watching as the hero killer took several steps towards Midoriya.

“For a case this severe,” you said, “it’ll go all of the way to the top, likely overseen by the Chief of Police...”

“I imagine so.”

“In that case,” you said, “I think it’ll be okay.”

All eyes fell on you and heat rose in your cheeks.

“Uh, a-a-a-a-at least that’s my opinion!”

“No,” said Nezu, “go on.”

“Well,” you said, thinking back to your father’s dinner table quizzes, “I’m not too sure how to put this...hmm...but for a case like this, there’s a burden of proof. It’s not enough that they happened to be there at the time. You need proof that they each broke the law; that they each individually ignored orders and attacked Stain without permission. This would mean verifying wound patterns, collecting eyewitness reports, taking testimonies from all involved...”

You turned to look at the television, a grim expression across your face.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that of all of the footage of this incident, we’ve only ever seen that one looping video of Stain right before he collapsed? Considering everything happening in Hosu at the time, doesn’t it seem just a little bit likely that that is the only footage? Why haven’t they mentioned eyewitnesses?”

“Stain is known for keeping to the shadows,” said Nemuri. “It’d make sense for him to choose a place away from the public eye, with very few security cameras and minimal chances of being disturbed...which in this instance would work in our favour…”

“And if we consider the students’ quirks,” said Shouta, “Midoriya’s quirk is strength based, Iida’s is speed based, Todoroki’s consists of fire and ice…”

“...and we already know the city was burning,” said Hizashi, “there’s footage of Endeavour at the scene…”

“And Gran Torino,” said All Might. “His quirk is speed based. If we take into account Endeavour’s physical strength and fire, as well as Gran Torino’s speed...then all we have to account for is Todoroki’s ice...”

“...and it’d be difficult to prove either way that it was used to attack as opposed to defend. It’s likely at least one of them has injuries from Stain’s blade,” said Vlad.

“In the chaos of the overall incident, only the students and their supervisors can definitively say they ignored instructions,” said Cementoss. “So we just need to rely on Todoroki, Midoriya and Iida to play it smart.”

All eyes fell on Shouta.

He sighed.

“We’re screwed.”

~~~

You stayed on site for a few hours after that, going over contingency plans until Hizashi offered to walk you home. If tonight had taught you nothing else, it was how dangerous the streets could be and so you were only too happy to take him up on it. Not to mention, you wanted to have a frank discussion about how you were going to proceed now that you’d slept together.

“Is it always like this?”

“Hmm? Like what?”

You gazed up at the sky and stifled a yawn, taking note of the sunrise. To say tonight hadn’t gone as planned was an understatement.

“Ever since I came here,” you said. “It feels like there’s been one drama after another.”

“I think,” said Hizashi, booping your nose, “the universe saved it all just for you.”

You laughed at that, for he had no idea just how right he actually was. You had already slept with a coworker by your second day.

“Hey, hey you guys!”

Heels clattered against the tarmac and Nemuri threw her arms around you both. She was as dressed up as you were and you remembered grimly what Hizashi had said to you outside of Les Papilles , which was only a few hours ago, but felt like decades.

You kinda put us in the mood for French food.

Hizashi hadn’t gone to Les Papilles alone and, given he and Nemuri already had plans to hang out that evening, it made sense that they would have gone together.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” said Hizashi with a smirk, “where’ve you been?”

“Asking all of the wrong questions, Mic,” she said, letting go of both of you. “Where haven’t I been?”

She reached up to cup your face and squeeze your cheeks.

“I have something for you,” she said.

“Iv it a glath of wine?”

“No, something way better!”

Nemuri took a step back and rummaged in her bra, leaving you a heady mix of intrigued and nervous. She pulled out a slip of paper and handed it over, eyes bright with excitement. You unfolded it, trying not to think about how warm it was.

It was a receipt from a pricey jewellery store for an equally pricey engagement ring. You reached into your purse, feeling around until your fingers landed on smooth metal. You dragged out the ring and read the receipt, matching up the item to the description.

“This...this is,” you said, eyes wide. “How did you get this?”

“I have my ways.”

You couldn’t look away from the price at the bottom; Akira must have chosen the most expensive one in the store. With that sort of money, you could pay your rent several times over and still have enough left to buy several ordinary engagement rings.

“This…I...”

You were more than a little bit overwhelmed. You had known Nemuri and Hizashi only a few months and yet they’d done so much for you.

How would the night have gone without them?

Would you have spent another 45 minutes in the shower like you did the day he dumped you?

Your eyes welled with tears and threw your arms around both of them, murmuring your thanks over and over. Nemuri stroked your back, Hizashi stroked your hair and for a moment all was right in the world, the Hosu incident and Akira’s cruel words at the back of your mind.

Only one thing could have made it better, you considered, heart skipping a beat at the sound of Shouta’s voice only a moment later.

“The hell did you two do?”

You supposed from an outsider’s perspective, it wasn’t immediately obvious that your tears were happy ones and you took a step back, meaning to reassure him that everything was okay. Hizashi got there before you, though, reaching an arm towards him.

“Ahh, Sho,” called out Hizashi, “come on, we’re having a moment. Group hug!”

“No.”

“Come into my arms, Eraser,” purred Nemuri.

“Never gonna happen.”

“Aw c’monnnnnnn.”

“No. I’m leaving.”

He turned to go and you untangled yourself from the hug, still rubbing the tears from your eyes as you picked up your pace and followed him, looping your arms around his middle and pressing your face into his back. He peered over his shoulder, visibly bewildered, though didn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “thank you.”

“What for?”

You considered it, struggling to settle on one singular thing.

You remembered standing in front of your bathroom mirror with a pair of kitchen scissors and drugstore hair dye; remembered the emergency salon trip that swiftly followed. You remembered the expressions of shock as you handed in your resignation at your previous job; the excitement and hope you had felt on your first day at UA.

You remembered Akira’s words outside of Les Papilles .

Who else is going to want you?

You knew he had only said that to hurt you and in another life it would have knocked you for six. Now, though, it was clear to you that he was only repeating the same words you had told yourself every day since your first date.

Shouta was supposed to have been a one night stand and could so easily have been a costly mistake, but had instead been a turning point. He wanted you when it mattered, even if your encounter had only been sex. Until then you hadn’t known how it felt to be desired, didn’t know what it was like to be wanted without putting on some sort of mask. All of your life you had twisted and turned to become the person others needed. Shouta, though, had wanted you when all he knew was your name.

You didn’t know how to thank him for that.

Instead you said something else; something that gave him goosebumps and sent the tension from his body; something that brought crooked smiles to Hizashi and Nemuri’s face when they overheard it.

Something that, though none of you knew it then, Shouta would replay in his mind in the weeks to come.

~~~~~

As you embraced Shouta, everything falling into place, Masayama Akira woke up in cold sweats. His head pounded, his feet were numb and he realised, as he rubbed his temples, that he had no idea where he was.

He stumbled to his feet and glanced at his surroundings: the sky overhead and cold breeze. His heart skipped a beat when he realised he was at the top of a skyscraper with no shoes or jacket.

“What the f-,” he mumbled, hobbling towards the door.

He remembered only vague details of the night before, of getting down on one knee and eating dinner with another woman; a woman he had gotten drunk with and spent the night ranting to over beers.

“She’s nothing,” he remembered saying, holding up his beer for a toast. “I’m better without her.”

“Akira,” the woman had cooed, “you’re so right. You need to rid yourself of her...and I know exactly where to start.”

She stroked a hand to his arm, so gently that it made him shiver.

“Did you, by any chance, keep the receipt for the ring?”

Akira sighed in despair as he reached for the door handle, remembering nothing after that. Perhaps he’d call her once he’d had coffee.

Unfortunately, Akira realised very quickly that he wouldn’t be getting coffee any time soon. The door to the building was sealed shut and wouldn’t give no matter how hard he yanked at it.

He cursed and reached into his pocket for his phone, only to curse louder at the realisation that he was too high up to receive any sort of signal.

This was, perhaps, the worst thing to ever happen to him, overshadowed only by the knowledge that even now, after everything, his instinct was to call you.

[period-dramallama]

Mini review: A Matter of Conscience by Judith Arnopp

TLDR: Interesting to analyse, but it feels rushed.

I think JA bit off more than she could chew by trying to write Henry VIII in first person. I think she lacks the experience, and even an experienced writer would find it a phenomenal challenge. I only ever write first person for OCs. The challenge is that you have to find a character's unique voice, and then stick with it for 300 pages.

I know, I know. I usually say novels are too long but I think this might prove to be a case of a novel being too short. It's telling Henry's story from beginning to end in about 300 pages. Some things are going to get glossed over. I fear this is going to be another elaborate-wikipedia-summary kind of historical novel.

There's a disclaimer at the beginning of the book, that the views of the characters are not the views of the author. Cool cool cool. Apparently we can have disclaimers for the benefit of the author, but not trigger warnings for the benefit of the reader. Fucking love that. (And while Intractable Heart came out 2014, the edition I was looking at was 2019, so no excuses.)

You are essentially an actor, constantly in character. If you slip out of your character's fixed voice for even a sentence, the illusion is shattered. And Arnopp just doesn't have the experience to master Henry's voice and maintain it constantly.

Arnopp's issues with first person continue. I get the sense that she wants to have her cake and eat it. She wants to write Henry's POV, but she also wants the ease of having an objective narrator.

But these two desires contradict each other. I cannot overemphasise that. If you write Henry VIII's POV accurately you are 1000% going to get a biased, self-serving narrative. His personality will dominate the narrative. You have to see things as Henry would see them, but you also have to say things as Henry would say them.

Compare with Humbert Humbert in Lolita. He has a distinct character voice, full of wordplay and colour and erudition. He's quick to assure us, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that he's not a bad guy, not a bad guy at all because [excuses]. But the reader knows from Humbert's actions that his excuses are a veneer of glossy bullshit. The reader can see, when Humbert cannot/will not/doesn't want to, the horrifying damage that Humbert is doing.

Imagine JA wrote Lolita. She'd probably have Humbert say "I'm a bad man who does bad things, but I don't believe I'm doing anything wrong."

This Henry, I think, shows much too much self awareness, and tells us things about his personality that we really should deduce from the story. For example: "left to my own devices, I am a happy fellow, it is only when life goes wrong that my spirit rebels." He's also aware of other people's motives, when people try to grandstand their affiliation with him. He even acknowledges that he's resentful of Margaret. He also admits that the prospect of bedding a woman fills him with both excitement and terror.

I do definitely think the real Henry could feel resentment, but that doesn't mean he'd admit to feeling it- or even consciously know that he's feeling it. Would Henry's ego allow him to tell the reader that he feels jealous, or embarrassed, or envious, or resentful? Would his machismo allow him to admit even to himself, that he is sexually nervous? How much does Henry trust the reader, so as to show his vulnerabilities? How much does he admit his vulnerabilities to himself?

There is a moment that does feel in character: Henry feels little grief for his dead baby sister because if she lived, she'd have grown up without a mother, rather implying that she's better off dead. It's a pretty gross thing to think, but it does give a sense that Henry already is deciding what's 'best' for others in matters of life and death. JA has also nailed Henry's desire for attention.

Mantel talked of "the Cromwell that Cromwell doesn't know." I think writers trying to do Henry's POV should keep that in mind. Henry doesn't necessarily know the depths of his own mind.

JA's present tense issues continue. "The sorrow of the adults compounds my own." Does that sound like a child/teenager? Does that sound like Henry VIII at all?

I do think show don't tell applies here. When Charles Brandon loses the game, Henry boasts. When Charles wins, Henry sulks. Henry should not be telling us this fact honestly: we should have a scene where Henry wins one game, boasts, loses the second game, sulks. This reveals Henry's character without him admitting to things his ego wouldn't admit to. JA is telling us the plot rather than showing us events.

The book does recreate Henry weeping on his mother's bed, and references 'closeted like a girl'.

Henry doesn't like being patronised by Henry VII and Margaret Beaufort: "it is as if they think I am a peasant just crawled from the gutter." That does give some sense of his pride, but overall I just do not feel his personality radiating from the page. Which it should. I do like that "Grandmother's bark is sharper than her bite."

Some minor things: characters at one point warm their 'nethers' by the fire. Henry fears Katherine of Aragon will be sent home "like a misdirected package" which feels like a very modern simile. Some of the writing is a bit clunky "the continuance of the House of Tudor that must at all costs perpetuate." Was that written by a bureaucrat? Also all caps is back for when characters shout.