#wanted to link the video but it's age restricted

[bill-dip-week]

Welcome to BillDip Week 2024!

BillDip Week is an event to spread love of Bill Cipher and Dipper Pines as a ship through various types of fanwork! The event will run from November 24th to November 30th this year!

This event is open to all ages, though NSFW works are allowed as long as they're censored, linked off site, or warned for appropriately. Current rules on Tumblr dictate we can't have sexual nudity anyways, so this should be an easy rule to follow, and Ao3 is fair game. There will be an Ao3 Collection made before the week begins so fanfiction can all be in one place!

This years prompts:

November 24: We'll Meet Again

November 25: Magic and Monsters

November 26: Secrets

November 27: Make it WEIRD

November 28: Another Time, Another Place

November 29: Moonlight

November 30: Free Day

Prompts are suggestions that have no strict meaning or guide, feel free to interpret them however you want in any sort of fanwork you feel like creating! You aren't limited to just Fanart or Fanfic! You can make a playlist, an aesthetic board, write a poem, make a video edit or animatic, make a GIF set - go ham!

Also, I don't have any other real rules or restrictions. Go where your heart takes you, go where these two take you. You don't even need to follow the prompts if they don't appeal to you! All that matters is you have fun and make something involving Bill and Dipper ♥

[who-is-page]

Greener Grasses and Fossilized Paw Prints: Where (and Why) the Greymuzzles Go

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 1,229 Summary: Page's personal experience as an adult canine psychopomp, and how it applies to the dearth of older otherkin in general alterhuman community spaces. Answering the question of: where are all the older otherkin? And why do people always seem to eventually leave? Author's Note: The term "greymuzzle" is used within the scope of this essay's title to reference older otherkin who have been active in alterhuman spaces for extended periods of time (a nod to the word's original definition within furry spaces), and is not referring to greymuzzle's most frequent definition in alterhuman groups as a community-given term denoting an individual with noteworthy activity and contribution.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for 2024. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedclaws]

When I was a young otherkin, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I found it difficult to conceptualize why there was such a dearth of older community members, especially those 30 and above. I could understand the theoretics behind the disparity, of course— social media platforms, as we all know, tend to skew towards younger audiences due to generational differences in technological proficiency/preference. Established adults with working lives and families don’t necessarily have the same amount of free-time that young adults or teenagers do, either. But even with all that taken into account, it seemed like the number of otherkin aged 13-21 in comparison to the number of otherkin aged 30+ was less a gradual decline and more an unfathomable chasm of difference. The community had been around for decades at that point, with plenty of ghost town groups and abandoned forums to demonstrate that fact… and unless the Veil was secretly age-restricted, those people hadn’t up and disappeared into thin air. So where were people going? And, more importantly, why?

It was a question I’d never been able to answer in a way that felt satisfactory as a teenager and later as a young adult. But now, feeling the call of the void myself, I finally do have an answer and an understanding that I never could have achieved five or ten years ago: why the fuck would I be online when I could be playing video games or having sex with my hot partners instead?

It’s a crude and simplistic way to put it, but just hear me out. As an established adult, I have access to funds, stability, and freedom that I never had as a teenager or even as a young adult who still felt at the mercy of an uncaring universe’s slightest whims. My support systems in high school and college suffered from the same sort of financial and social precariousness that come with the territory of navigating the world as a young adult, but my support systems now are made up of other established adults; while I’ll never say that everything is always perfect for all of us, it’s much easier to get on your feet and stay on your feet when your arms are linked with people who are more firmly rooted in one way or another. I have access to a type of freedom that I could never have imagined as a teenager, because it was literally outside of the range of what was possible for me and my peers.

And more than just that freedom is the fact that I, as an adult, have a family! “Having a family” has, in my experience, some shitty, heteronormative connotations. As a teen, I always took it at face value as juggling bills, kids, white picket fence, other boring responsibilities that eat up your time, etc. But as an adult, now I know that having a family can be anything you make of it, and I make it extremely, obnoxiously queer. In my case, it’s living with people who understand me on a deep, foundational level, and who love me not in spite of who I am but because of who (and what) I am. It’s not passively being around those people; it’s actively, enthusiastically spending time with them because it’s fun and because I love them too and because they’re my people and I picked them and they picked me. As a kid, I’d never consciously recognized the difference between people you’re passively around because you have to be versus people you intentionally choose to be around and who intentionally choose you right back. In part, this is because as a kid you often don’t get the option to make that choice, while as an adult you have more control over your environment. Too often online environments feel like the former, rather than the latter, even if being within them is, technically, a choice. But here, now, I have people in my household who will go out of their way to intersect their daily lives with mine and ask, “You wanna walk to the park?” “You wanna grab a coffee?” or “You HAVE to see this YouTube essay I’m watching and no I don’t care that it’s 4 hours long on a topic you know nothing about, just trust me!!!!!” and that’s such a radically different and wonderful experience.

As an adult, I live with a group of people who make being alive more fun than I could have ever imagined. I have the ability to make my own fun in ways I couldn’t as a kid, for a variety of reasons. I don’t have to feel like an anxious purse chihuahua 24/7, agonizing over my existence and every possible thing that is liable to go wrong if I frivolously spend money on so much of the thought of a hot coffee. And I finally, finally understand why older otherkin disappear off the face of the Earth. It’s because being an adult nonhuman-identifying person is amazing in a way almost no one ever talks about: the euphoric experience of being known and loved, and of knowing and loving yourself.

There are so many exciting and wonderful things I could be doing in the meatspace with people I have actively chosen to spend my life with, and who fully accept and understand me as someone who’s queer, plural, and nonhuman. There’s so many enriching ways I could be engaging with my hobbies, the environment around me, and my local community. With this all in mind, why the fuck would I ever be in public online spaces where people try to argue with me about whether or not I exist, or if my experiences are real, or if I’m using the right and latest lingo to describe my experiences? Why would I subject myself to that when I could just roll my eyes, close the laptop, and go be a beloved canine psychopomp in the comfort of my werehouse instead?

That’s the crux of it. As adults with families and support networks, we have the option to not subject ourselves to the morifying ordeal of being known by asshole strangers online if we don’t want to. We can stick to just our families and our friend groups, and we will still have people around us who understand and who acknowledge and interact with our alterhumanity. The alterhuman community isn’t the only or even most important place for being our authentic selves; rather, it takes a backseat in the day-to-day life. It’s still something that’s fulfilling and worthwhile to engage with, but only on our own terms (terms that are quickly becoming incompatible with the ways Internet culture is evolving). But more often than not, there’s just more fun things to do.

In some ways, it’s kind of a relief to have had this epiphany. People haven’t vanished from alterhuman community spaces because they collectively ‘grew out of it’ like some anti-otherkin insist, or because the various generations of otherkin are so extraordinarily different from one another as to be oil-and-water. People vanish from online alterhuman spaces because offline life as an adult alterhuman is awesome. As an archivist it’s frustrating, but as a nonhuman, I find it a specific type of happiness that’s worth celebrating in its existence and prevalence. It’s an assurance that life only gets better as you get older: isn’t that grand?

[scribbleseas]

Straight Laced, Chapter X: To Be A Hidden Treasure…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: mentions of suicide, detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, body shaming, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

REMINDER: This is a heavier chapter that hits MOST of those warnings and your safety and comfort comes before everything! Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you would like clarification about this chapter’s subject matter.

Author’s Note: Hi Everyone! Thank you so much for reading Straight Laced, I'm so happy I can finally show you the last chapter of this exhilarating story. Including this chapter, you will have read 70,249 words of my writing, and I'm so, so grateful for your time. I have more to say about this fic all the way at the bottom of this post, so I'll keep this brief and leave you with one helpful hint: the part of the grand pas that Y/n is talking about can be found at 2:56 in the video I linked. With that, I hope this chapter is everything you've all been so patiently waiting for. And more.

Happy Reading!!

Dan <3

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER |

MASTERLIST

Postlude

February, 1889

The Imperial Ballet School, Russia

The frosty draft of St. Petersburg’s unforgiving winter slipped underneath The Imperial Ballet School’s multitude of long windows, sending a chill through the air. A thick layer of frost shrouded the dance studio’s large windows, both shielding the expansive room from both the outside, and the outside from seeing inside. 

The soft piano played the beginning notes of Giselle’s Act I scene where she realizes that the young man who had been courting her had been lying about his identity. The Duke Albrecht had been posing as a peasant to woo the beautiful village girl, but now, one of the woman’s competing suitors exposed his lie. With the truth exposed, Giselle fell into heartbroken panic. 

The first ballerina of two in consideration for the role started to arrange her body into the beginning steps into Giselle’s pained rendition of her previous pas de deux with the disguised duke. The dance, once loving and serene, was now supposed to be frantic and wrecked with pain, as displayed by the ballerina’s stricken expression. 

Seconds before she could begin, the ballet master knocked her cane into the floor, halting all—the ballerina, the music, any onlookers. When the cane came crashing down, nobody breathed.

“Anastasia Gusev. How many hours did you rehearse this week?” Irina Abramova demanded, scrutiny weighing heavily on her drawn eyebrows and pursed lips.

Without waiting for Natasha’s response, the ballet master continued in Russian, shaking her head, red-rouged lips pursed. “Whatever it was, it is far from enough. The combination has not even started yet, and I can already see you are doing it wrong. In fact, if I made you step outside naked and beg for change, holding a sign that says ‘I cannot dance,’ you would not feel anywhere close to the amount of shame I feel at this moment for considering you,” the retired prima ballerina noted. “I may even hate myself now. Because of you.” 

No matter the chill of the gelid weather that the winter sighed into the room, nothing was more biting than Irina’s commentary. Still, in the face of her heart shattering, Natasha held her chin high and rolled her shoulders back, biting down on the fact that she’d put in over 50 hours of work in that past week. She’d skipped most meals, most full nights of sleep, with the specific intent to secure Giselle. 

Now? The young ballerina felt her eyes sting with tears that threatened to fall. Fury squeezed at her chest.

Clearing her throat, Irina addressed the rest of the class. Her gnarled hands tapped her cane against the smooth floor, her onyx gaze alight with determination. Per usual, the ballet master kept her wiry gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, reminiscent of the ballerina bun she wore in her prime. 

“Does Anastasia here resemble our Giselle, right now? Does she portray a woman descending into madness after her lover has betrayed her? I want to see a heartbroken tour de force. I want to be rendered speechless from the sheer depth of emotion on your face.” 

Giving Natasha another bored once over, Irina looked disinterested. She addressed the class once more. “Honestly! Is anyone rendered speechless? I certainly am not.”

As Natasha expected, the rest of the company betrayed her, mumbling their doubts, shaking their heads, weakly suppressing their snide smiles. They never failed to disappoint her. Natasha bit her tongue, swallowing down her desire to challenge them to portray Act One’s infamous Mad Scene better than she. No one else wanted this role like she did.

The wrinkles marring Irina’s face creased with her satisfied expression, watching Natasha’s face redden. She was well-aware of the young ballerina’s hatred of her first name, her hatred of her company members. This humiliation was more effective than anything—more than the feeling of Irina’s cane digging itself into Natasha’s lower back to correct her posture, or dodging a swing at her lowering leg. Irina swung at lowering legs to inspire dancers to hold arabesques more firmly. 

The young dancer could withstand any pain, save for this public humiliation.

“Anastasia, show yourself to the barre. I am growing tired of your mediocrity—your intent to waste our time. Faina Nikotinova, you will be my Giselle. Anastasia, do try to improve. Before I send you outside to freeze some talent into you,” her eyes flashed meaningfully, insinuating that her earlier words were not just a threat. They were a promise If Natasha couldn’t improve her dancing. 

But she had. Irina was simply refusing to allow her to perform.

“You did not let me start,” Natasha snapped, raising her blue eyes to meet Irina’s. Her hands curled into fists, her manicured nails digging into her palms. Faina wasn’t half the dancer she was—her jumps were lazy, she was too chubby to last much longer. Irina had said it herself, and that was the most offensive aspect of this.

“There was no need to. Now, go away. Better yet, leave my school. I do not tolerate this attitude in my company and I have no desire to see you again,” Irina replied coolly, motioning for Faina to take the center of the floor. She tapped her cane against the floor to cue the piano back. 

Hot, angry tears brimmed in Natasha’s eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. Fine. Fine. If Irina wished for Duck Butt to lead the company as Giselle, she was more than welcome to choose her and watch the company sink under her mediocrity.

The force Natasha slammed the door with caused the walls to tremble. The muffled laughter from behind her sparked molten rage to flow through her veins. Surely she’d go mad if she was made to face such a stunning defeat again.

May, 1890

The Royal Opera House

No one could compare to Natasha Gusev‘s Aurora in The Royal Opera House’s first and breathtaking run of Sleeping Beauty, the product of sleepless nights spent slaving at the barre. Spent rehearsing her expressions in a mirror, forcing herself to learn to tear up on command, envisioning the very moment that Faina stole her opportunity. 

Anastasia died in Petrograd. Natasha would never allow herself to be humiliated in such a way again. She’d sooner die.

Natasha practiced until she passed out, until her feet bled and swelled, and her legs cramped. She worked herself harder than Irina could ever dream of, drilling the same moves and sequences into her body until she could dance them in her sleep. 

The ballerina had fought for this, brandished her soul for it, pushed herself through classes that were taught in a language she couldn’t understand. The only language Natasha shared with Londoners was the French terminology used in ballet. She could hardly decipher the rest: not the abuse, not the praise. It took much longer for her to master English than it did for her to secure this coveted role.

And Natasha’s reward was thundering applause, night after night. Each adoring yell louder than the last. They had come to watch her, in spite of the lies that cursed school poisoned her mind with. She made this company the best in London—if not, Europe. She had no idea what came of Faina and The Imperial Ballet’s run of Giselle, but it didn’t matter.

Nonetheless, it didn’t take long for Natasha’s star to capture more attention than she had initially bargained for, either. Alongside the unabashed adoration for her dancing came competition for her. That was how she found herself at the center of William Wood’s attention—his gray eyes lingered on her, no matter where she found herself. 

They would narrow each time she met with a new subscriber, they’d scan her with consideration each time he pulled up a chair and watched the company rehearse. William liked to claim that he was merely interested in the artistic integrity of the show, but from the way he’d bite his lip and adjust his trousers, everyone knew better. Everyone understood that he was the heir to the business supporting the Opera House—everything would belong to him in a decade or so. 

Natasha was the center of her own world. She had her patrons to satisfy, the stage to alight with her talent. The ballerina made a careful effort to rebuff William without ever needing to speak with him. 

That was, until he outsmarted her one dawn. He’d waited in the Opera House’s main rehearsal room—Natasha’s favorite because of the tall mirrors that lined the walls. 

“Hello, there,” William said, flashing his most winning smile at her. He couldn’t have been much older than Natasha. “You’re the principal dancer, aren’t you?” The young man had been poised on his usual chair from the side of the studio, but he stood to meet her. 

“Yes,” Natasha’s words were clipped because she could see through his disposition. He knew who she was—he was pretending not to. “If you would excuse me—” she immediately took a step back, preferring to rehearse in private. Or anywhere William was not. The prima ballerina shouldered her bag and turned to leave, only to freeze at the sound of her full name.

“Anastasia is a powerful name. Did you know it means resurrection?” William asked, chancing several steps closer. He caught her wrist, but maintained a lax grip. She could pull away if she wished to. 

“My name is Natasha,” she corrected crisply, her blank expression unchanged. 

“I’m William Wood,” he ignored her, gently guiding her closer. Now, she could see a kaleidoscope of different gray shades, ranging from near-white to intense storm clouds. “Did you know my name means desire?” 

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed, unimpressed with his onomastics lesson. “How lovely,” she answered flatly, extricating her hand. Now, his sterling gaze landed on her thin lips, wanting to kiss her, presumably. “I really should be going. I have to rehearse—if you know that I am the prima ballerina, then…” leave me be, she wanted to conclude.

Instead, Natasha let her words hang in the air, allowing William to put them together on his own.

“Look—wait, all I mean is…” William paused, moistening his lips. Clearly, he was unused to the prospect of no.  “You’re flawless. And I would simply like the chance to…”

“To what?” Natasha asked indignantly, allowing the offense she took to show on her face. Normally, she wasn’t quite so harsh against these advances—she had a tendency to simply allow herself to enjoy the attention she received from such men—but William? Now? The sun hardly had a chance to start the day, and this man had put all of this time and planning into seducing her? 

“I like you. I would like the chance to get to know you. Beyond the dancing because there’s clearly so much more to get to know,” he clarified, softening his expression into something more intimate. “Please, Natasha.” 

The ballerina was unsure if she relented because of William’s honeyed words, the way his steel gaze reminded her of a singular spotlight focused on her, or because he was the heir to the Opera House, but she felt her resolve crumble. After all, there were plenty of other ballerinas who glowed with envy of her in the first place. Natasha loved to imagine how their hatred of her would intensify with William Wood courting her. That thought would feel better than any seduction tactic he could try on her.

It took weeks of flowers, lavish gifts, and fiery touches stolen between rehearsals before Natasha agreed to marry him. They were in William’s Southampton home, entangled with one another in his bed, unclothed. Sweaty after a round of passionate sex because it made William tired and affectionate. The perfect combination for an agreeable mood in a man. 

“Marry me. Be my wife,” the man practically begged, kissing Natasha’s knuckles. It wasn’t the first time he asked, his father John having pressured him into proposing ever since the rumors of their sneaking around began. It was indecent behavior of William—not unexpected, but embarrassing to the Woods, their eldest son messing around with a foreign dancer. “Please. You’re all I want, Nat,” he sighed, burying his face into the crook of her neck, kissing the clammy skin there as well. 

No one in the company could claim that Natasha was the principal dancer because she was sleeping with William, either. Her talent more than spoke for itself, illuminating the stage just as much as the spotlights did. The ballerina was addicted to this pining of his, the fortune she’d come into by taking his name. He was a puppy of a man that would be at her side, hanging onto her every word, touch, and glance so long as she could maintain her perfection. It just so happened that he had direct access to generations of wealth and influence.

“All right, Will. We can get married,” she relented, only for the man to pull her into an intense kiss, his fingers running through her unruly brown curls. 

For months, her life was blissful. 

Natasha maintained her position as prima ballerina, and they were married, which also ended her responsibilities at the dance foyer. Being married to William gave Natasha the right to all of the Opera House’s paperwork, granting her information on each of her company members, the ballet’s revenue—noting the spike in sales with delight, considering it had come in tandem with her publicity. Having a run of the same show continue for so long was unprecedented, but Natasha’s performances sold out each night. The company was only beginning its considerations for the next ballet’s lead.

Accordingly, Natasha would dance almost day and night. She ate once a day, if she remembered to, more intent on maintaining the lean body that kept jealous suitors leering. The more they looked, the more William spent for her, the more he doted on her. All the more fulfilled the young dancer felt, the more she desired.

Another starring role, more lovers, more press coverage. More rehearsal time. 

Natasha etched the hard work into her bones... until it broke her. 

She remembered searing pain in her hip, crashing to the floor. And she found herself undone against the rehearsal room’s floor, the clammy wood cold against her cheek. Yelling out for William, lips pursed with pain she refused to allow to surface past. She would never allow herself to cry. 

The doctors had given her a prescription for morphine powder for the pain. They suggested she stop dancing for the next year or two, but the morphine had done plenty for her discomfort. Enough for Natasha to refuse giving her position to a ballerina who couldn’t have put a quarter of sacrifice into earning her role. 

No—anyone else interested would need to pry it out of her cold, dead grip. 

Each day, Natasha’s extensive routine only grew harder to sustain: rehearsing for the company’s future run of Mlada and perfecting any movement she might have mishandled as Aurora from the evening before. She would mix the morphine powder into her tea between rehearsals, between acts, before she met her husband each night.

Stopping now would be a death sentence with early casting for Mlada so close…there was no doubt the director would care to cast Natasha in the lead if she seemed unreliable. 

Anyone who wanted it enough would see themselves through, Natasha reminded herself. In time, my body will learn to keep up. 

Smile through it. Hold back your tears. Smile through it.

Natasha held her life together through the painkiller and sheer force of will, but it was only a matter of time before the injury became unbearable. Overly stiff, Natasha’s hips began to lock, ruining her range of motion. She could no longer hold her arabesques. 

The pain had spread down to her groin and her backside, those joints as good as rusting door hinges, stiffening with each movement.

Weeks after her initial fall, Natasha collapsed on the rehearsal floor. Again. Only this time, she couldn’t hold her tears at bay, an incredibly dark (and realistic) part of the young woman knowing fully well that it had been her last day in pointe shoes. 

“You need a break. Be reasonable, Nat.” William ordered bluntly, shoving the cane in her hands days after. Weary of her and the same tedious argument. “Would you prefer to need a full-time wheelchair before 25?”

Natasha held the ivory cane in her hands, testing its weight. She frowned at the medical accessory, feeling her life slip away each second she held the cursed thing. Her husband, as typical of him, didn’t understand. Ballet had been her purpose—she’d been put on the Earth to capture the breath of an audience. And now?

She was a disturbing failure. How could she look at herself in the mirror?

“Will…” Natasha fixed her hard gaze on her husband, reading his mounting frustration with her like a book. 

“Shut. Up.” She all but threw the cane back at her husband and the offending doctor who brought it into their home. She slammed the door behind her in an attempt to charge back to their shared bedroom. Though unsurprisingly, she only accomplished a few short paces before her hip locked, failing Natasha’s next step and sending her to the ground again.  

The former ballerina couldn’t hold back her tears, this time. They fell in droves, in pained sobs. The grievous sound of an ingénue knowing her life was over.

“Come on, Nat,” William said in the same tired voice, attempting to help lift her off the floor. 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Natasha waved him off haphazardly, hiding her face. She heard William's heavy, retreating steps.  

Nearly a year into Natasha’s injury, she’d become proficient with her walking cane. Technically, she could hobble clumsily without the assistance, but watching the rest of the company’s pitying gaze at the sight of her ungainliness became overwhelming. If she was to be the Opera House’s new ballet master and director, no one could pity her.

There was no room in ballet for pity. Only perfection.

So, she preferred to test the dancers around her. Break the weak ones—the ones who turned to dancing out of desperation, failing to understand that it was an elusive skill that required years of nurturing. She liked to push them until they fractured like a mirror, leaving the company on their own accord or giving Natasha a valid reason to excuse them. Particularly the ones her husband was bedding behind her back and mortifying her with. 

“I’m so sorry, Natasha, I didn’t even– I don’t even want him!” Norah Vincent cried out, “please just listen to me, please!” 

The young ballerina chased her director up the cement stairs leading from the Opera House’s lowest floor—where the largest rehearsal room was located—to the first floor. It was late at night, and there wasn’t a soul on the property, save for them. Natasha had reserved the pleasure of informing Norah that she knew fully well of the liberties she’d taken with William until they were alone, more interested in watching the young woman’s composure implode as a private show. To ensure such an outcome, Natasha waited until the end of their private rehearsal to inform Norah of her termination. The ballerina didn’t even have the chance to unlace her pointe shoes. 

“No. You will make yourself scarce from my company. I like Analisse better for Mlada, so you were bound to be let go soon, anyhow,” Natasha answered indifferently, keeping her face impassive. She knew that the aloofness in her statement would make Norah feel just as worthless as she was as a dancer.

“I don’t understand, please. I need this work. Please. Just allow me one more chance,” Norah continued, struggling to keep pace with Natasha. 

“You sleep with my husband, and even worse, you continue to curse my stage with your mediocrity, and you have the audacity to ask me for another chance? After all of the chances I’ve already given you?” The ballet master plunged her cane against the top of the final stair for leverage to reach the top. “I told you that if I gave you Mlada, you would need to work on your stamina and flexibility night and day. I see no change.” 

Natasha finally turned around to face the weeping ballerina, watching her trudge up the remaining stairs. Crying was so ugly.

“I swear I practice every day, I-I-I…” Norah couldn’t even decide which claim to refute first. “I only…I just,” she wiped her face. “I love this company, and dancing, and…” she begged. “I do my very best each and every day, I practice, I stretch, I observe, I listen. Don’t you see?”

Norah still had a functioning body. Her health and mobility. All the time in the world. There was no excuse. Natasha practically gift wrapped and handed Norah her career.

The director’s head pounded, frustrated tears begging to fall from her eyes. What was there to not understand? Norah simply didn’t want the success enough or she would give every spare moment to cultivating her skills.

“Stop. Blubbering.” Natasha ordered sharply, turning on her heel to continue to her office. Norah had just stepped up to the level floor, the expansive staircase behind her. 

“N-No! I need you to hear me! Haven’t you ever made a mistake? You know, I don’t understand why you always have to demand perfection! From everyone! No matter how hard we try or how hard we–” 

“That’s enough!”

Without another thought, Natasha found herself turning around. Her cane fell to the floor as she put all of her strength into shoving Norah down the stairwell. Of course, it hadn’t been her plan to dispose of the ballerina in such a way. Really, it should have been horrifying, but Natasha couldn’t force herself to feel any bit of remorse. Her squealing had given her quite a headache.

In fact, when Natasha failed to find a pulse from the young woman’s lifeless body, she felt the first sense of true gratification she’d felt in months. As her shoulders had been relieved of a burden as heavy as the world.

And each time afterwards, it only grew easier. Each time, Natasha planned a bit more intricately. She could only win: if the Yard took notice, all signs would point to her power-drunk husband, leaving Natasha to his assets. Revenge.

It became a game of strategy: who, when, where, how. 

Louise, Georgina, and Mabel were a blur over the course of the next few weeks. They disappeared, Natasha explained they couldn’t handle the burdens from the company and resigned, no one questioned her. Most ballerinas didn’t have family, the profession often a last resort for income. The public deemed them prostitutes: unworthy of care.

Sophia, Harriet, and Analisse had moved to new companies, but that didn’t stop her. Natasha knew who her husband had seen. Who betrayed her. They wore their guilt on their sleeves. It didn’t matter if they transferred to new companies—how could they be allowed to live after betraying their mentor? They were mediocre ballerinas, anyhow, merely ensemble members that Natasha stuck in the back of formation. 

The Yard was never finding them.

Eliza had a host of lethal allergies. All it took was a well-timed cross-contamination—it was only a matter of time. 

Janet was weak. Natasha probably could have asked the girl to jump off of the Tower Bridge and she would have done it, surely. 

Amelié never noticed that her perfume bottle was tampered with. Dimethylmercury was a life-changing discovery on Natasha’s part. Honestly, Natasha wished she’d used it with all of the nuisances that came before her… and after. 

The new success should have satisfied Natasha. Until Maisie—her first mistake. As if marrying some fraud was a feat to be proud of. Maisie thought it appropriate to inform Natasha that she was leaving the Opera House company for a new opportunity, an unseemly topic at her husband’s gallery reveal. Somehow, Terrance had offered to co-found his ballet company with Maisie as the star. And this came a week after the Yard fell for the trap Natasha had set, having followed her carefully planned trail of breadcrumbs that implicated her dear, cheating husband for murdering his company members. She simply had to make an appearance at the event to save face for the Wood family—setting the narrative straight before the press could.

Natasha would have been able to successfully send William to prison in her stead, had she not lost her temper the night of that bloody gala. She;d only gone to safe face after William’s arrest, after all. To manage the poor publicity his infidelity would poison Natasha’s hard work with.

“My husband is renovating the Pavillion Theatre. You know what that means? It means that I don’t need you pestering me anymore! You’re practically an old maid, a bloody relic now, you know that?” Maisie grinned, euphoric with the ability to finally speak freely. She’d asked Natasha to step out from the museum with her, and the ballet master had suspected it was to discuss something unseemly when there was a lack of witnesses around. 

“You have no idea how much we all hate you, Natasha.”

Those were Maisie’s last words. Because Natasha had pulled out William’s Flintlock Pocket Pistol and shot her. She hardly had any time to ensure Maisie was dead before fleeing the scene, tucking her walking cane under her arm. Best of luck with your new company, Blondie. 

After that blunder, Natasha had a choice. Herself, or Y/n Y/l/n, a French girl who happened upon the wrong man and his misguided investigation at the wrong time. In Natasha’s haste, she’d also lost control again, landing her at a criminal sentencing at London’s City Hall. 

Y/n was willing to destroy her opponents to succeed. Y/n had been the first ballerina Natasha had finally considered to be somewhere near the eminence of her own former glory, and had ended her, handing her a crushing defeat. 

Natasha should have put the dimethylmercury in Y/n’s make-up much sooner, arsenic in that wine she self-soothed with. By the time Natasha had offered Y/n that toast, there was no chance that she would have accepted a drink from her. Waiting had sealed Natasha’s fate to this wretched courtroom. 

Thundering applause and scarce cheering pulled Natasha from her thoughts. She must have missed her sentencing, lost in her ruminating, judging by the immediate lift in the courtroom’s somber atmosphere. 

This entire audience wanted her punished for her choices. Why? She felt the magnitude of her decisions spoke for themselves.

The former prima ballerina stared back into the prima ballerina’s vacant gaze from the defendant’s table, attempting to dissect the poison Y/n regarded her with. 

For the first time since St. Petersburg, Natasha could confidently say what Giselle was supposed to look like.

November 25, 1895

London City Hall

“Anastasia Natalia Gusev-Wood, this court sentences you to lifelong service in the Reading Gaol Correctional Facility with no chance of appeal,” the judge announced. 

The room— the press, sparse onlookers including the few bereaved family members of victims, cheered, but the woman only stared at you. She didn’t react to her sentencing or the relief that erupted from the room. All she fixated on was you, her face illegible. 

You refused to give the killer the satisfaction of analyzing your mood, the opportunity to insert herself in your head. Violent narcissists like her craved attention like flies to fruit. Instead, you released your captive breath and sent a tired look to Ciel to signal your readiness to leave. This woman was nobody to you: the result of a vain monster picking and choosing which lessons to take from ballet.

It was an art form before it was a competition. And certainly, no competition should ever lead to bloodshed. 

That was why you failed to feel any semblance of relief, even as you watched the officers escort Natasha away in handcuffs. You had still failed so many of your kin: eleven dead, their stories stolen and suppressed. The killer had painted them as weak after their deaths, dishonoring them, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. You couldn’t have been more wrong to ignore each and every one. 

You hardly remembered the sound of Norah Vincent’s voice. The color of her hair. In fact, save for Amelié, you didn’t know any of these victims on a personal level—you remembered how tall Mabel was because you were envious; Louise had trouble with her stamina because she was newer to the company; Georgina always had a smile on her face, she let you borrow her scissors to break in a new pair of shoes. That was all you could recall. Other than these minute instances, you hadn’t bothered to concern yourself with anyone besides yourself, and failed to notice these disappearances happening right under your nose. The Yard couldn’t even find the bodies of Norah, Mabel, Louise, Georgina, Sophia, Harriet, and Analisse, severely limiting the investigation you and Ciel could accomplish for them.

Even worse, you failed to piece together the evidence pointing to Natasha and refused to listen to Ciel’s concerns. You had allowed your personal feelings to erode your judgment, delaying the investigation. 

How could you feel a sense of victory, when so much had been lost? 

The only way you could proceed was honoring them in death, especially now that their true killer was brought to justice.

“Ciel, I want to bring the flowers over before it becomes too dark” You requested, referring to the bouquets you asked Sebastian to arrange. Given that most of the victims did not have any next of kin— or were the sole earners for their destitute relatives— Ciel personally took on their burial expenses. Apparently, he had a personal contact working in the burial industry. An Undertaker. 

Additionally, you wished to always honor their memorials with fresh florals. 

“Certainly. Our work is complete here, for now,” Ciel answered, ending the officer he’d been talking to away with a nod. 

Later 

The Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park

The sun started to descend below the treeline, casting a shadow over the graves lined in front of you and Ciel. Norah Vincent, Louise Crowley, Georgina Dawson, Mabel Hughes, Sophia Ludwig, Harriet White, Analisse Sterling, Eliza O’Malley, Janet Fischer, and Amelié Langston. All of the victims, save for Maisie Stannard. Distraught, her husband opted to bury her with his family.

“Do you think this really makes a difference?” You asked Ciel, standing from your kneeling position. You dirtied the front of your plain dress from kneeling in the dirt to arrange the flowers around the headstones. It was too cold to plant them, but they did make a lovely display of white and baby blue among the warm autumnal foliage.

The wind made the bare tree branches rustle and their fallen leaves dance, but thankfully, it left the white flowers you placed unmussed. You placed a combination of daisies, blue irises, and calla lilies around them, hoping their serene beauty might bring some peace to the souls around. Though most of these graves were missing bodies, you still hoped their spirits would resonate with the resting place. Body and mind were separate entities, no?

“I believe it does.” Ciel answered, dusting off his knees. He righted himself after you, having helped you arrange the flowers. You were clear that the flowers were a project you were set on seeing through with your own two hands, and apparently, that resonated with the Earl. Enough for him to accompany you and even help. You vowed that you would visit these graves as often as you needed to keep the flowers fresh. 

Remembrance was the least you could do, given that you hardly remembered most of the ballerinas in life.

Stepping back to admire the full picture of your work, you lit a cigar. You always kept a small humidor box in your deep coat pocket, along with a small knife to cut the cap and cedar spills to light it.

“My aunt adored the color red,” Ciel recalled, nostalgia softening his stoic face. “Sebastian and I filled the church with red rose petals, and I brought her favorite scarlet gown—she would have thought that white gown they had her in the most plain thing she’d ever seen. I believe she rested easier, knowing that she was being honored.”

“That sounds lovely,” you said, looking up from your igniting cigar to properly look at Ciel. He’d gone through those extra lengths just to make his aunt’s soul feel better at rest, despite never being able to know if the efforts made a difference. And yet, he liked to act like the most selfish man to walk the Earth. But he wasn’t. Far from it. Instead, he pulled at your heart and tugged at your stomach. “She must have enjoyed that. I’m sorry to hear you lost her.”

“I believe she did,” Ciel said, addressing your apology with a miniscule smile. It was barely there, no more evident than the corners of his lips pulling upward. He watched you take a long drag of your cigar in slow, deliberate puffs, as always. “And I think these women know that you brought their killer to justice, above all. Surely that matters a great deal to them.”

Watching smoke from your lips dissipate into the atmosphere, you chuckled sadly. You shook your head, rejecting the notion that you brought Natasha to justice. “You would have caught onto her sooner without me—you mistrusted Natasha from the start. You warned me last week, and I’m confident she tried to poison me that night.”

“She did a masterful job of framing her husband. I would have arrested him regardless, and I wouldn’t have access to investigating either of them without you. I’ve told you once, I shall repeat it a thousand times, if I have to: you were instrumental to our investigation,” Ciel took a short pull from your cigar. The days where he would admonish you for the habit felt like decades past.

Our investigation. You could have sworn your traitorous heart skipped a beat. Your palms felt clammy. After you confronted Natasha and her subsequent arrest last week, you and Ciel had been, for the most part, cautious around one another. The two of you were unsure of the boundaries that mutual forgiveness meant without a proper conversation. There simply hadn’t been any time, given the legal chaos that erupted between convicting a wife and husband for separate, yet related, crimes.

“A thousand times, you say? I may have to consider that request,” you said, smiling to denote your joke. Your cheeks felt traitorously warm, your smile unfortunately bashful. The Earl did this to you without trying.

Because you still loved him. The first man to notice anything about you beyond your looks and your dancing. The first man to care for your wellbeing, and take the time to unlearn the bitter beliefs that his class instilled into him. He fought for you, even when you had demanded he didn’t. But that didn’t mean he didn’t reject you the morning after you gave yourself to him. It certainly didn’t erase the fact that he’d danced with another woman in front of you. 

The misunderstanding between you may as well have been a chasm at the time. But now, you were each gradually bridging that gap in equal strides. 

Was that fair? You supposed not— Ciel was made to dance with another woman, just as fiercely as her duchess bullied her way into afternoon tea with him. And she had lied to you. Ironically, given the way she’d considered you vulgar. Was it not vulgar to lie in British polite society? Or was it only acceptable because she was lying to a commoner? 

“So long as you don’t overdo it, I shall oblige,” the Earl relented, meeting your eyes in the longest bout of eye contact you shared in two weeks. You almost forgot the sheer depths of sea Ciel’s eye held, and the intelligence those sapphire leagues captured. Mesmerizing—it was a shame that the fire damaged his other eye so severely. He, like you, was alone. Save for his staff. 

You accepted your cigar back, enjoying the taste of it on your tongue, the heat in your lungs a burning constant. You closed your eyes for a moment, appreciating the crisp air. Less than a month away from winter, you relished in this weather. Chilly, but not freezing. The best weather for a cigar. 

“I…” you started, your face red. “Thank you, Ciel,” you said, a touch more earnestly than you had meant to. But honesty was the only way to move forward, you felt. 

“Ballet…the aesthetic differs from all other professions. We have to hide all of our pain and discomfort behind a smile— make an illusion for our audiences.” There was no retreating, now that you’ve started. Ciel had already seen behind your facade—there was no meaning in reinforcing capitulated defenses. “Growing up in it from a young age, I suppose… I started to hide too much. I stopped trying to be close with others, and I-I thought you didn’t care for me anymore…” you admitted. 

You thought about the way all of your ballet instructors reminded you to maintain a pleasant face during rehearsals and performances, even though all of the contortions were unnatural to the human body. The best ballerina in the world was worthless if she couldn’t shroud her pain behind her character.

No matter how you felt, you had to maintain a pleasant face for the audience, the ballet patrons that paid your school (and later, the Opera House) for the right to your body. All to allow you to make a salary that kept you just above the poverty line. You had never dropped your pleasant face until you realized how false it was, the product of habit and sheer necessity. Everything had to appear effortless, even when it was excruciating. That was the industry.

You couldn’t help but chuckle; not even two weeks ago, you would’ve defended these sacrifices.

“I can see that now,” Ciel admitted, taking a guilty pull from your cigar. You both watched the smoke escape into the atmosphere. The light of dusk made the sky look pink. “I must have been a classist fool to assume that all aspects of this profession happened at dancer’s volition.” 

“You were certainly a classist fool,” you affirmed with a playful smile. After taking a final hit from the cigar, you extinguished it beneath your boot heel. 

“I am aware, thank you,” Ciel answered pointedly, making the corners of your lips form a smile. 

“Though unfortunately, most everyone still thinks that way,” he took your hand in his. The Earl ran his thumb over the top of your hand. You both wore gloves now, a measure against the cold especially now that autumn was in full swing with winter just on the horizon. 

You hummed in response, knowing fully well the social abuse you’d take for having Ciel at your side. For daring to love a man this privileged society deemed above your stature. Gwen, that miserable woman, was only the beginning. But you were no stranger to critique—nothing could possibly sting as much as some of the commentary you’ve suffered in ballet school and in your professional career. You were strong.

“But it is not a tradition I will allow to continue,” Ciel said resolutely, meeting your eyes again. “I brought accounts of the prostitution and power imbalances to Her Majesty, and she has decided to purchase the Opera House. She will also be instituting a series of Theatre Company Reform Acts to ensure it ends here—Swan Laws, they want to refer to them.”

The meaning wasn’t lost on you. 

You didn’t know how to start thanking him. Instead, you threw your arms around him, your gloves curling into his thick coat. Hot tears slid down your cheeks, they had been slightly chilled from the soft wind, the cold chapping your lips somewhat as well. 

“I do not know where to begin,” you mumbled, settling into the way the Earl’s stiff posture relaxed to accommodate you. His coat was soft against your cheek, his arms came around your back to embrace you. You let your eyes flutter closed for a moment, appreciating the safety and strength he offered you. 

Ciel held you close, his hand rubbing your back languidly as you sniffled, your appreciative tears  rolled down your cheeks. “I will always be endlessly fascinated and enamored by you. It would be a privilege if you could reconsider being with me, after the confusion I caused you. I… tend to push the wrong people away. But you? I never could have asked for a better partner for this investigation, and otherwise.”

A new warmth spread in your cheeks. Your heartbeat thumped with hope, light from Ciel’s confession. How could you reject that? He saved you. He listened to you. He seemed sure.

You wiped away any tears left on your face. Words were never a strength of yours, you had always thought. 

“Ciel, I want to be with you,” you declared confidently, your smile glowing as you looked up at the Earl’s thoughtful expression. The worry he tried to hide from you. Your eyes fluttered closed again as you kissed him, his familiar lips immediately responding to yours. A gentle hand held the left side of your jaw, lightly brushing strands of your hair out of your face.  

“That is an honor I do not and will never take lightly again,” Ciel promised, his pensive gaze inspecting your face. He was the most exacting perfectionist you’d ever met; you could never decide what he was thinking when he regarded you so closely. 

“I’m not sure you could if you tried,” you affirmed, a shiver running down your back. The wind picked up, causing the trees around you to rustle and whisper. 

“I’ll have Sebastian bring the carriage around. It’s getting rather dark out here, now,” Ciel mumbled against your lips, pressing on one more innocent kiss before he retreated, keeping your hand in his as he guided you out of the cemetery. 

December 13, 1895

The Royal Opera House 

From your dressing room, you could hear the orchestra begin to play The Nutcracker’s overture, a jovial melody on strings. The chatter of the live audience was palpable through the thin walls, you could hear the theatre fill with attendees. The run of this show was delayed an extra two weeks as your company appointed new interim leadership to run the performances—- she was one of the ballet teachers who worked under the Woods. She used to teach the classes for the newest ballerinas, the most patient of the staff.

Without the previous director and the short hiatus between the end of Swan Lake and this premiere, the entire company was revitalized. You could hear it in the music. You could see it in everyone’s faces. Rehearsal the past week was magnetic: you were all ready for this evening. 

You beamed at yourself in your vanity mirror, enamored with your matching pink corset and tutu combination. Humming the intense melody of the Act II pas de deux with the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier, you started to pin your tiara to the top of your head, careful not to ruin your sleek bun. You were made of pure anticipation and energy, a sense of certainty that you had never known in your life. Once you secured the accessory, you dabbled extra lip rouge and blush to your face in hope. Stage lights always washed out performers’ complexions. 

“You look brilliant,” Ciel told you, rising from the loveseat to the side of your vanity. He closed his copy of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King and left it on the small table to the side of the chair. The ballet adaptation of the story was fairly recent in comparison, having premiered three years ago in St. Petersburg. Your production was one of the first to happen in England. Despite having significant plotting differences from the novella, the Earl insisted on reading the source material prior to watching your opening performance. 

“How do you feel? Will you be alright if I join the rest?” he asked you, understanding that the overture signaled the audience to find their seats. 

You couldn’t have smiled more, your wide, childish grin was unbreakable. For the first time, it was starting to strain your cheeks. You had everything and more than you could’ve possibly asked for: the greatest love you’d ever felt, your stomach was full, your costume sparkled. All of this on the heels of a short performance hiatus that left you more rested than ever, each day supplemented with dance class and rehearsal to keep your body in shape during the break. You’d never had so much strength going into a performance. Ever. 

“I am indestructible, Ciel,” you answered, rolling onto the platforms of your pointe shoes for added height. Kissing the Earl left his lips a bright shade of pink, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“I shall take my leave for the time being then, mon trésor,” Ciel said, employing that endearing name you loved so much. His treasure. “If you might need me, you know where to look. And I will meet you back here afterwards.” 

Ciel made a sizable donation to the theater to ensure that the box on to the right of the stage was exclusive to him. Although Her Majesty took ownership of the property, she could not dedicate state funding without the Parliament; the Opera House would have needed to function without two week’s worth of performance revenue, had Ciel not intervened. He’d been watching from the box during your final dress rehearsal yesterday, and watching you rehearse your arrangements hours earlier. When Ciel could steal time away from his executive work for his company, he managed to immerse himself in your career, playing the piano when you rehearsed at home, and now, publicly supporting your debut as The Sugar Plum Fairy. 

“Thank you. Watch closely—I will be dancing for you,” you sent the Earl a playful wink as he left your dressing room. He left a parting kiss on your knuckles so as not to ruin your makeup. 

While you were heavily featured in most of the scenes of Swan Lake, now your appearance as Sugar Plum was concentrated into short, intense scenes back to back in the second act. That made your stamina all the more important as you needed to be regal and in control, detail-oriented with almost no breaks. 

That required every ounce of strength in your lower legs particularly, but you were prepared, when it came time. You were strong and fortified, learning to accept that as your vehicle, your body was beholden to better care. This full grand pas de deux consisted of a duet between you and Antoine, who played the Sugar Plum Fairy’s Cavalier—her romantic interest, followed by the Cavalier’s solo variation, your solo variation after, and finally, you both danced together again in the coda, or the finale. 

You were all but a firecracker. Knowing you had someone in the audience who mattered to you, feeling your body sufficiently rested and fed, were frankly magical sensations. For the past two weeks, Sebastian had you on an incredibly balanced food regiment— he suggested you eliminate the word diet from your vocabulary in a broader effort to reframe your thoughts around food— and you prioritized a full night of rest. The butler even had you dipping your feet in iced water after long rehearsals to reduce swelling and inflammation. You had no idea. 

Hard work was not equivalent to dragging your body through abuse each day and night. Skipping meals and sleep did not make you a better prima ballerina—it only made you vulnerable to injury.

In fact, with all of this care reinforcing your natural talent, you could have fought an army. You had already proven yourself a valiant soldier, maybe even more than you were a perfect heroine. You embodied many roles rather well. 

Now, your characters danced for Clara’s honor in Act II, signifying their gratefulness for her and the Nutcracker’s victory against the Mouse King in Act I’s battle scene. This grand pas came at the end of the celebration after numerous ensemble characters— Arabian princesses, Russian Cossacks, Spanish chocolate, as well as Dewdrop and her Flowers. 

You were serene yet playful, encapsulating the magnanimous fairy. You were one with both your partner and the music, the perfect unit. The Sugar Plum Fairy knew who she was quite well, independent of her Cavalier. Still, they moved together, perfectly in tune as the music built to its climax. You stopped on the exact same stage marks, your arms reached into the same space, even your legs mirrored one another. The Sugar Plum’s Cavalier lifted her confidently—there was no hesitation in the escort’s hold— he never once dropped her.

Even as he lifted his significant other atop his shoulder, Cavalier was unwavering. This strength was the physical manifestation of his love for his dear fairy: supporting her, reliably catching her in one of your favorite moments of the show. Running from stage right, you leapt into Antoine’s grip in the center of the stage. Your fingertips nearly touched above your head in the standard fifth position. 

At your high perch, you could only think to peer at the box where you knew the love of your life was watching you. While you couldn’t see any distinctive faces from the stage, all you cared to know was that Ciel was there. For you. 

You’d never been in such a partnership before, the object of someone’s genuine care and interest. Sure, you’d been a plaything, a temporary trophy to trifle with and discard when your novelty subsided. But no one had ever deemed you a treasure. Someone always worthy of an apology, protection, someone worthy of love—the sacrifice and hard work that came with it. All that value seemed to be hidden away, like precious gems. 

Catching you by the waist, Antoine tilted the upper half of your body towards the floor for a moment. Moving quickly to maintain momentum, he used the leverage to face the audience and place you back steadily on the platforms of your pointe shoes. You danced in tandem with one another, flawlessly showcasing the secure love between your characters: the adoring way the Cavalier cared for the Sugar Plum, and her own adoring trust in him as she jumped into his arms once again. He lifted her high, and she held him close. 

The Earl supported you, and you trusted him implicitly. 

On your pointe shoes, you let yourself tip backwards, knowing Antoine would catch you with the same certainty Ciel would kick down a door. For you. The Cavalier caught Sugar Plum by her waist and her extended leg, lifting slightly only to resettle her at his side. The characters were a couple in love. 

At the end of your second premiere as prima ballerina, you didn’t linger to further absorb the applause in front of you. Instead, you hurried back to your dressing room because you knew the most important person was waiting for you behind the curtains.

Epilogue 

“Ciel!” Your Earl had been awaiting you in the backstage wings, paces away from where you exited the stage. He’d opted to wear a black evening suit for this occasion, the raven suit making his deep hair and ultramarine eye all the more conspicuous. Much like the night you met him, it was a number composed entirely of neutral shades. Apparently, a tailored suit on the man came as natural as leotards and restrictive pointe shoes came to you. 

With the same intensity as the Sugar Plum Fairy had, you bounded towards your lover and held him close to you, in spite of the heat your body carried and the sweat that slicked your skin. You couldn’t help but snap to his side like an opposing magnet, your face burying into the side of his neck when you lifted yourself en pointe. He caught you just as Sugar Plum's Cavalier would have.

“You put on quite a show,” Ciel told you, pride palpable in his warm tone. “That was masterful. You always are.” An arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand flat against your bare back. His leather glove felt cold against your skin, a welcome change from the blazing stage lights. You swore that one day, they would cause you sunburn.

You were exhausted. Your heart pounded, droplets of sweat fell down your neck tracing the side of your spine. Your breaths came in hard bursts, your lungs working to their limit. The muscles in your legs and feet were molton. But you smiled in spite of this pain, and not out of necessity for once. It was because of the sheer love you had for this man.  Your heart beat for him—the slightest quirk of his lips as he watched you, the unsuppressed chuckle in his chest from your question.

“No flowers for me?” You smarted playfully, pulling away before you could damage your costume from the embrace. Not to mention, you weren’t anxious to allow the rest of the company free access to your private relationship with Ciel. You knew that The Queen’s Guard Dog had an infinite supply of enemies and British society had countless newspapers cautiously watching you. They were waiting for you to fail, but you would never give them the satisfaction. 

“I like to think I have something a little better in store for you than flowers,” your Earl’s arm remained around your waist, helping support your worn body between the bustling backstage to your dressing room. The moment the door locked behind the both of you, asked Ciel to unclip your corset, overwhelmed with the need to get out of your suffocating costume. As much as you adored its shining accents and the pink, it grew burdensome after expending every last bit of your energy. 

“What for? I mean, what could be better than flowers?” you quirked an eyebrow, your smile lopsided. Ciel never failed to bring you a bouquet, even when your courtship had been a ruse. You adored them every time, the least materialistic person.

You hurriedly unlaced your pointe shoes, stepped out of your tutu and stockings, and clipped on a simple navy blue gown.

“I suppose, they will just wither and die, eventually. I want to commemorate this night perhaps more…intentionally,” he explained as he hooked your costume onto a hanger. 

This night? More intentionally?

“Of course,” you turned towards your vanity mirror, wiping at your face with cold cream. The next day was December 14, after all. His birthday. Could that be what he was mentioning?  While you knew a share of the trauma he felt from that day—-losing his family in the fire— you also hoped to give Ciel some lingering sense of celebration with a waiting wine bottle you purchased for the makings of a relaxed night in. You’d been rehearsing a short self-choreographed piece for him, knowing his adoration for your dancing, and his lack of interest in making a spectacle out of his day.

There was a short silence that followed as you finished cleaning off your face. You were checking your reflection for any leftover face makeup when Ciel spoke again. You watched him approach you from the mirror, turning to face him properly as he stopped at your side. Still sitting in your vanity chair, you looked up at him, a curious smile on your face as you analyzed his serious expression.

“As you recall, I first met you here,” Ciel started, his hand toying with something square in his jacket pocket. “So, each time I’ve thought about how I wanted to approach this, I couldn’t imagine being somewhere else. This was the only right way.”

You snickered, thinking back to the best aspects of that night—an evening you never thought you’d come to look back at with fond nostalgia. That night, you would have told anyone who asked that you disliked Ciel Phantomhive. You thought he was classist and misogynistic, cold. Condescending. You never would have thought he would come to be the most intelligent, thoughtful, empathetic, and determined person you’d ever get to know. Loving not outright, but in his own way: re-considering his belief system, playing the piano, constructing a dance studio on his estate. For you. 

“You wore some red gown. I thought…you were breathtaking. I had to ask you to put on more clothes in order to let myself focus,” Ciel admitted, his face flushing to the tips of his ears from the admission. 

“To let yourself focus? I thought it was because–” you started to assert that he told you to cover up because he was a noble clinging to traditionalism, but your Earl interrupted you with a lovingly stern expression, fixating his gaze on you. He titled his head to suggest mild exasperation with your never-ending need to chime in.

You obeyed, silencing yourself with another dazzling grin at Ciel. As he…sank down on one knee in front of you and retrieved a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a ring.

“Veux-tu m'épouser?” Ciel asked. You blinked, swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat. Tears immediately formed in your eyes, causing you to blink rapidly to keep them from blurring your vision. 

Because that meant…

Will you marry me?

You felt as if someone knocked the wind out of you. A scarlet blush spread across your face with the intensity of a wildfire. Goosebumps littered your arms, despite your gown’s sleeves. He wanted to marry you. He truly wanted you as his Countess. He was legitimizing your claim to his heart with this ring. To all.

“I couldn’t imagine my life without you, Y/n. You have broadened my worldview in so many ways. I never dreamed myself capable of accepting love from anyone, much less someone as breathtaking as you. You shine both on a stage and off, challenging me to better myself each day, inspiring me with your passion for ballet and that stunning intellect of yours. I would be incredibly fortunate to be enlightened by you each and every day, for as long as I may live. If you would do me the honor,” Ciel said. He always held such a noticeable degree of reverence for you, regarding you as some precious being.

“Absolutely, I will,” you beamed as Ciel held your hand, gently siding the engagement down your ring finger. The band was gold, its diamond cut into a square. Two smaller diamonds sat on either side of the largest diamond. Still on his knees, Ciel was still tall enough for you to kiss by leaning down to meet his face. 

Lingering close to your Earl’s face, your smile grew sly. You blinked guilelessly. “Though are you certain you do not wish to discuss how we will allow our courtship to slowly burn out over the next month to avoid public suspicion? Would that suffice? That would allow you to resume your real search for a—”

He didn’t even let you finish your sentence, pulling you back in for another intense kiss. 

“There will never be a need for that. I put an end to that search ages ago, for all intents and purposes,” he admonished you with no real weight to his words. 

Before you could verbalize your next quip, your new fiancé interrupted you once more. “Yes, I am certain. Y/n… you are all I could possibly want,” his hand was gentle as it cupped the side of your face. His thumb caressed your jawline, a touch that was barely there against your electrified skin. 

“I cannot wait to see what our life looks like, together, my Lord,” you kissed Ciel, taking his hands in yours. As you rose from your seat, you guided Ciel to stand properly on his feet, clinging to him the moment he righted himself.

“That’s Ciel, to you, mon trésor.”

You welcomed your incoming new role, the future Countess of Phantomhive, with your widest possible port de bras.

Acknowledgements: 

First thing’s first, I want to thank you. Thank you so much for reading and interacting in any capacity with me!! I appreciate every second you put into checking out my writing, and I hope it really touched you! This story is meant to show copious amounts of growth in a person and the importance of empathy and compassion. I’ve loved Ciel since middle school and I like to think this love has matured with me, lol! 

This is also my first mystery storyline!! I put so much thought into every detail, and I don’t think I could have gotten to this point without you all being here and so so so supportive and patient at every turn. 

Thank you especially to my amazing friends here on Tumblr, @mylostleftfootsock and @earls-wife, and my amazing best friend IRL @readfreak03. (She literally made a Tumblr account to read my updates, I'm crying). Thank you all so much for being so inspiring and supportive of me—especially for hearing me and my chaotic ideas out. Without your endless support for both my writing (and my personal life endeavors) and your detailed feedback and ideas, there wouldn’t have been this. 

I want to thank everyone who reaches out to me in comments, asks, dms, mentions, and reblogs, everyone on my tag list, and all of my amazing anons. 

I want to shout out @katherine101, @endlesslovesick, @suniika, @goby10, @lavendervogh, @eunisyia, @luckyladylottie, @soleil-lei, @lottiehasadvice, and my lovely Random & Sweet anons: I always, always look forward to reading what you have to say!! It’s so much fun to chat, and your feedback is so amazing. I really do appreciate each comment you leave for me! You’re all so kind, it’s endlessly motivating for me. I read every single comment, ask, and reblog multiple times. 

I genuinely had so much fun writing this fic. I’ve wanted to write a ballerina!reader x Ciel for so long—probably since I was in the middle of writing The Indignant Pawn. I was developing this story as I was writing! Ever since I stumbled on a History.com article about prostitution in vintage ballet, I was hooked. I knew I needed a fire-brand reader experiencing this in real time, and a Black Butler-level scandal to draw Ciel into the fold. Their polar-opposite personalities essentially wrote themselves. Their natural chemistry, the arguments, the sweeter moments just flowed. 

To make this story as accurate as I could, I read countless interviews with real prima ballerinas regarding their interpretations of their characters—their hardships, their advice, their day-to-day lives. I watched so many TikToks (special thanks to @/lifeof.lori!) and tutorial videos, too. I really came into this knowing nothing about ballet besides having an excited curiosity, and now I can confidently say that I understand it a whole lot better and I definitely have a newfound respect for real ballerinas. What they do is incredible. 

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. I can’t believe this is my second complete fic ever! I’m so excited to show you what I have in the works. When I finished The Indignant Pawn, I gave you a hint about this story, my next full body of work, because I was a little mean with the way I ended my first story. Literally it was the tallest of cliffs I could leave you hanging from. This time, I was nice, so I think I’ll leave you guessing :)

Stay Tuned,

Dannnn

[mr-sadman]

Hello wonderful people! 

We are back again this year with our wonderful Dreamling Week, which will be taking place from June 2nd to June 8th this year!

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Since the event is a few weeks away, what can I do now?

Spread the word and the joy! We have decided to post the prompts earlier this year to give more time for people to get creative!

Without further ado here is this year’s prompt list : 

Sunday 2nd Hunt Body swap Indulgence [First Time] Monday 3rd Pirates Hourglass Flowers [Exhibitionism] Tuesday 4th Steampunk/Solarpunk Painting Meet cute/ugly [Massage] Wednesday 5th Shapeshifter Storm Finger food [Dirty] Thursday 6th Soulmates Lecture Midsummer [Friends with benefits] Friday 7th Through the ages Nightmare Monochromatic [Hate sex] Saturday 8th Assassins Memories Sunrise/Sunset [Roleplay]

FAQs/TLDR

FAQs : 

When is the event ? From June 2nd to June 8th! While you should post the prompt for each day it is associated with, we will also be accepting late submissions, so have no worry!

Can I combine prompts? YES!! Be sure to indicate which days and prompts you are using in your description, otherwise, go free! You can post on either days associated with your prompts, or, if it’s a multipart work, on each corresponding day!

Is there any content restriction ? We accept all  works of all mediums - writing, art, collages, playlists, podfics, translations, video edits, etc. - , whether they are SFW, NSFW and/or triggering. Writers and artists- tag appropriately ; Readers and viewers - be mindful of tags!

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Do I need to be a part of the server to participate? Absolutely not! Dreamling Week is open to all! Although some additional events (such as a watch party, game nights and fic read-alongs) will be held on the server, submissions do not need to come from server members only!!

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If there is something that is not covered by our rules masterpost and/or FAQ, you are very free to reach out to us in the Discord server’s dedicated channel or in Tumblr DMs! 

Keep on Dreamling!~ <3

[demigodsanswer]

Percy was pretty good at getting gifts for Annabeth. She wasn’t that subtle about what she wanted. He was sure his wife wanted a dog. He was going to get her dream dog for Christmas. ~ Annabeth spent weeks subtly trying to get Percy to say what kinds of dogs he might like. Ever since they moved back to New York, and he’d once again left Mrs. O'Leary and Nope in New Rome, her husband had been a bit bummed out, staring wistfully at every dog they passed on the street. She was sure he’d love to get a puppy for Christmas. And she was going to get it for him.

Percy was pretty good at getting gifts for Annabeth. She wasn’t that subtle about what she wanted, and she’d sometimes just outright ask for something, or send him the link to the specific book, keyboard, and sweater she wanted. 

So, he was sure his wife wanted a dog. 

It was their first Christmas as a married couple. Fred (and Percy had to assume the gods, unless the Chase family was really this wealthy) had outright bought them a Brooklyn brownstone for their wedding. The upstairs had needed hefty renovations, but that was really part of the gift: it gave Annabeth a project. Where she found the time, Percy didn’t know. But the first floor was perfect for them while Annabeth redid the upstairs bathroom and bedrooms. 

Now they had a dream home, a yard, and total freedom from landlord restrictions. And every night, Annabeth had a bevy of new cute dog videos to show him. 

“Would you want to get a dog soon?” Percy asked, not bothering to be subtle. 

She shrugged. “Could be nice to get one before we start having kids,” she said. 

“A little practice,” Percy said with a smile, as if they hadn’t practiced plenty with Estelle for years. 

“Would you want a big dog? Little dog?” Annabeth asked. 

“I love a big dog, but in the city, something smaller might be better,” he said, hoping that was the right answer, or that it at least got her to tell him what breed she was thinning. But Annabeth just nodded. 

“Maybe a hound dog? Or a beagle? Something medium-sized? We have a yard,” Annabeth said. 

“A beagle would be cute,” Percy agreed. 

“Would that be your dream dog?” Annabeth asked. 

“Not sure I have a dream dog, but beagles are super cute,” he said. That was the honest truth. He thought they were pretty adorable, and they had big dog attitudes with small dog bodies. But this wasn't about his dream dog. It was about her dream dog. She was the one who'd wanted a dog ever since she'd left her doberman behind at age seven.

“What would your dream dog be, though?” Percy asked her.

“Oh, something big too, and that would be a good family dog. Maybe a lab or a collie,” she suggested. 

When Annabeth fell asleep, Percy made a note in his phone, and then spent his lunch period looking up available shelter dogs. He had a few students who liked to hang out with him during lunch. One was a demigod, the other four were her mortal friends. 

“You should find her a puppy,” Kaylee said as they scrolled through shelter websites. Most of the dogs were over five years old. “If it’s a baby test-run, a puppy will be better than an adult dog. And they’re so cute!” 

Percy called Grover when school got out. “I need a puppy,” he said. 

“Regular puppy or hellhound puppy?” Grover asked. 

“Regular, family-friendly. For Annabeth. A lab or a collie or something,” Percy explained. 

“I’ll ask around,” Grover promised. Plenty of satyrs volunteered in rescues and shelters, doling out long lectures about how animals were real investments, not just toys, to well-meaning parents hoping to surprise their kids Christmas morning. 

“You’re the best, man,” Percy said. 

~

Annabeth spent weeks subtly trying to get Percy to say what kinds of dogs he might like. Ever since they moved back to New York, and he’d once again left Mrs. O'Leary in New Rome, her husband had been a bit bummed out, staring wistfully at every dog they passed on the street.

She knew her husband would love a puppy for Christmas.

She knew she couldn’t get him another hellhound (she asked Nico), but what kind of regular dog would he want? A bernese mountain dog kind of looked like Mrs. O’Leary, and they were good with kids, but they didn’t live very long. Small dogs were practical for the city, but would Percy like something yappy? 

“He likes you,” Clarisse said, as Annabeth recounted her woes. 

“Hurtful,” Annabeth said back. “Look could you just … see if you can get him to give you an idea?” Clarisse taught in the classroom across the hall from Percy, turning their once antagonistic relationship into a genuine friendship and comical workplace rivalry. 

“Why don’t you just ask?” Clarisse suggested. 

“That would ruin the surprise,” Annabeth said. 

“All I’m going to do is ask him,” she said back. 

“However you want to do it is fine, just don’t tell him I’m getting him a dog,” Annabeth said. 

Annabeth hated being wrong. And more than that, she hated Clarisse La Rue being right. Subtly wasn’t going to work. She needed to just ask. They were two weeks away from Christmas, and she was no closer to knowing what kind of dog Percy might want. 

Thankfully, Percy had brought it up first, another one of his not-so-subtle hints that he wanted a dog: “Would you want to get a dog soon?” Percy asked. 

Annabeth tried to play it cool. “Could be nice to get one before we start having kids.”

“A little practice,” Percy said with a smile. 

It was finally time to just ask. “Would you want a big dog? Little dog?”

“I love a big dog, but in the city, something smaller might be better,” Percy said. Annabeth nodded, waiting a few seconds to see if he’d offer up a breed himself. He didn’t. 

“Maybe a hound dog? Or a beagle? Something medium-sized? We have a yard,” Annabeth suggested. In her research, beagles were good family dogs, but not that big. Their barks weren’t yappy though, and they had a lot of energy. She could see Percy with a beagle. She'd like something a little bigger, personally, but he made a good point about the size. This was about his dream dog, not hers. He was the one who had to leave his dog behind in California.   

“A beagle would be cute,” Percy agreed. She could tell from the wistful smile on his face that a beagle puppy would make him very happy. 

The next day, she spent her lunch break looking for beagle puppies in New York. When that didn’t turn up many great results, she called Grover. 

“I need a puppy. A beagle if you know anyone with a litter,” she said. 

“ You need a puppy?” He asked. 

“It’s for Percy,” she explained. 

Grover paused. “Right, sure, okay. A beagle?” 

“Yeah, or a hound dog, if that’s better,” she said. 

“I’ll call you back if I find something,” Grover said. 

A few hours later, he let her know he had a satyr friend in Queens who was fostering a litter. They’d be ready to go home right in time for Christmas. 

“Your name’s on the list,” Grover said. “One of them is yours for sure, just get up there and see which one you want,” he said. 

Annabeth picked out a little girl puppy in the end. She was barely three pounds, but she seemed to have all the energy in the world. 

“Oh, you are going to steal all of my husband’s love and attention away from me, aren’t you?” she asked the puppy. It yapped at her, as if it say “without a doubt.” 

~ 

“Oh, you are going to steal all of my wife’s love and attention away from me, aren’t you?” He asked the ten pound chocolate lab puppy. He was the runt of the litter, and given how quickly he’d stolen Percy’s heart, he was sure to steal Annabeth’s. 

Hiding the little guy was going to be the hard part. His mom agreed to keep him at her place until they came over Christmas day, but he was worried about Estelle getting attached. 

“Well, then you’re just going to have to come visit more if she does,” Sally said over the phone. As if he and Annabeth weren't there every Sunday for dinner. 

~

“Thanks for watching her, Grover,” Annabeth said, dropping the puppy off at his small apartment. His current girlfriend was a rose bush in Central Park, so Grover had relocated to the city, taking up residence in Hell’s Kitchen. “I don’t know why Sally said she couldn’t take her,” she said. 

“Probably just doesn’t want Estelle getting attached,” Grover suggested, keeping his attention on the puppy pattering around his apartment. 

“I guess, but we see them every week. We could bring her with us,” Annabeth said about the puppy. 

“Who knows,” was all Grover had to offer. “So I’ll bring her over when I come by for Christmas?” 

“Yes, I’ll have you wait outside until I get Percy’s attention for the surprise,” she said. 

“Good plan,” Grover said. 

~ 

When his mom texted him we’re here Percy nearly sprinted out of the kitchen. Annabeth was fiddling with something in the living room as he walked by. 

“Grover is walking up now,” she said, “go back to cooking, I can let him in,” she said. 

“No, no, my mom just got here,” Percy said. 

Annabeth looked at him confused. “Well, she and I have met. I can let her in too.” 

“No, just …” he exhaled, “she has a gift for you, just close your eyes, and turn around.” 

Annabeth did, obviously hesitant. “Okay,” she said, “but Grover has a present for you so if you see him … try not to see him.” 

“Got it, wise girl,” Percy said, before opening the door. 

He failed to not see Grover, and when Annabeth heard his chipper voice, she turned around. 

Grover and his family were on the stoop. “The jig is up,” Sally said, stepping inside with the lab’s puppy carrier in her hand. She stepped into the living room and set it down as the puppy started barking. 

“Merry Christmas, dude,” Grover said. Percy tried to get his head on straight. Because his mom had brought Annabeth’s puppy in already. So what was Grover holding? 

~ 

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth said, kneeling at the carrier she was sure she didn't buy. 

“You two are really perfect for each other,” Paul said with a laugh. 

Annabeth opened the carrier and let the little chocolate lab puppy waddle his way out, before picking him up in her arms. “Hi baby,” she said. “Percy --” 

She felt tears welling in her eyes, but before she could cry, she had to start laughing. Percy was on the other side of the living room, his new puppy in his arms. 

“You all knew!” Annabeth said. “None of you said anything?” She was trying to sound angry, but it was no use pretending. She couldn’t be mad when she was holding a sweet little baby in her arms, one that Percy had so perfectly picked out for her. 

Percy didn’t look angry either. He was holding up his beagle and letting her lick his nose. 

“It was too cute,” Sally said.  “It’ll be good practice in case you have twins.” 

Annabeth shook her head. “Let’s not put that energy into the world.” She wanted kids, but one at a time would be ideal. 

Her lab puppy got curious and wiggled his way out of her arms and towards the beagle puppy. 

“You wanna say hi?” Percy asked it, placing his puppy down for them to sniff at each other. Within minutes, the two puppies were running around the living room, fast friends, and even faster holiday decoration destroyers. Not that Percy or Annabeth minded. 

~  A year later ~

Percy called Max to him. The lab was staying close to Annabeth, who had, in a matter of seconds, gone from calling the dogs into the house, to throwing up in their vegetable garden. 

Percy managed to get both dogs inside before either tried to eat what she’d thrown up. Nugget (full name, Chicken Nugget) was particularly food driven. They’d learned fast that beagles would simply eat until they exploded, with no cares about what they were eating. With both dogs out of the way, Percy pulled some water from a nearby puddle to wash most of the mess away.  

“Morning sickness, my ass,” she complained. They’d learned quickly that it was not (a) limited to the morning and (b) not predictable at all. It was three in the afternoon; Annabeth had taken a half day and Percy hadn’t scheduled after-school activities to make it to this doctor’s appointment. Thankfully they were only walking a few blocks down the street. Annabeth had already thrown up on a fair number of subways in just two weeks. 

“It’s a sign that the baby is healthy,” Percy said, rubbing her back. 

“That’s because it’s stealing my health,” she complained. “Alright, I think it’s done for now. Let me just brush my teeth, and we can go.” 

It was their first doctor’s appointment since the positive pregnancy test. They were hoping to see the baby and get some sonograms for the soon-to-be grandparents’ Christmas gifts in a week. Although Percy worried Annabeth’s spontaneous puking might give them away if his mom was around to see it. They’d managed to keep the secret so far. They could make it another week. 

~

Annabeth couldn’t believe how fast she’d gotten pregnant once they started trying. Percy really must have had some strong swimmers. They were both so excited, overwhelmed with joy and both prone now to spontaneous crying, that it had swung back around to anxiety for Annabeth. The two weeks between the home test and this appointment had been filled with worry that something was wrong that she couldn’t know about. 

“Everything is fine,” Percy promised, kissing her hand as they walked in. 

“I’m telling you, something is … different,” she said. She knew he thought she was being a bit paranoid. How could she know what a normal pregnancy felt like, anyway. And for that matter, would a demigod pregnancy even be normal? 

“We’ll always figure it out,” Percy offered as reassurance. She tried to trust him.  

She was on the OB’s chair, her shirt pulled up as the OB squirted some cold goo onto her belly, barely bloated (and that might have just been holiday food). 

The wub wub sound of the heart beat made Percy cry faster than she did, which she didn’t expect. Percy sat next to her, squeezing her hand as he sobbed. That made her cry more than anything. Annabeth let out a deep breath, and wiped the tears from her face as she looked at the screen, seeing mostly just wavy black lines. 

“There’s your baby,” the OB said, pointing to a little peanut on the screen. 

Percy, through his tears, cracked, “Aw, babe, it’s got your eyes.” 

“Ope,” the OB said, moving the wand around. 

“What?” Annabeth asked, as another peanut shape and additional wub wub appeared. “Oh no,” she said, covering her face with her free hand. She knew, she knew something was different about her pregnancy than Sally’s with Estelle, or Clarisse’s with her kids. She knew it. Sure, she was glad it wasn’t a bad thing, but -- 

“What?” Percy asked, trying to put together the images on the screen with the noise in the room. 

“This is baby A,” their doctor said, pointing to the first blob they’d seen, before rolling the wand back over, “and this is baby B.” 

“Two?” Percy asked, his eyes wide now. 

“Two,” the doctor confirmed. 

“I can’t believe this,” Annabeth said, finally turning to Percy. Leave it to him to mess with all of her best laid plans. They were going to have two babies at once. She tried to sound angry, but she ended up just smiling and laughing as she looked at him and announced: “This is your fault,” she said. 

“Well,” the OB said, continuing the scan, “they’re fraternal. So there were two eggs, and two sperm. It was a team effort.” 

“We are known for our teamwork,” Percy said with a grin. 

“We are never going to make things easy for ourselves, are we?" Annabeth asked.

Percy leaned over to kiss her gently as the OB continued the scan. "We should be used to it by now."

[lesbianrobin]

ok since people r very into my chris fic i shall share some of my random behind the scenes thoughts while writing it:

adriana has literally been waiting her entire life for her obviously gay older brother who joined the army to avoid his wife and then moved to los angeles to be a sexy firefighter to COME OUT ALREADY and by the time we meet her in this fic she is like Vibrating with the need to be like EDDIE IS GAYYYYYYY ARE YOU PEOPLE BLIND??? which is why it takes like absolutely zero prodding from chris for her to spill all of eddie's business. i think when eddie was little he was a very obviously gay little boy and as he grew up he learned how to Be Normal but adriana never forgot and she's like deeply sad about it.

chris is So fucking miserable at his grandparents' house he misses video games so bad. i couldn't find a way to really incorporate this without it feeling like a cheap "look he's a TEEN BOY" thing but yeah the second he gets back home he is slamming that headset on and gaming until eddie tells him he has to take a break or he'll burn his eyes out of his sockets.

there are a Lot of songs on buck and eddie's joint depression playlist that i listed and then cut for practicality's sake but if there's any like interest in that i could maybe put together + link the full playlist for y'all?

buck's "maddie" playlist is entirely music he listened to growing up bc it makes him think of her. as a younger sibling my music taste from birth to like. age fifteen ish. was just wholly whatever my older sister listened to and i think buck is the same way. i don't think buck necessarily listens to this playlist on his own very often but if he's hanging out with maddie and/or babysitting jee-yun he'll put it on because it makes him happy to enjoy some 90s/00s nostalgia with his best girls. sometimes he'll play it in the car when he's driving chris somewhere because he wants to carry forward some of those good memories he has with maddie with chris.

buck and eddie's texts were written in order to coincide with each other! eddie texts more frequently than buck but i think if you pay attention you can sometimes tell which days buck Also sent chris a text bc they match. some of them were sent specifically in the wake of very emotionally taxing shifts where they both wanted so badly to call chris and beg him to come home but they knew that wouldn't go well and they didn't want to make chris feel guilty so they tried to play it cool.

speaking of buck and eddie: i don't think that eddie's conversation with chris is necessarily the First step in eddie realizing he's gay or moving toward something romantic with buck. keep in mind that chris has been gone for at least two weeks by the time he talks to either of them, and buck and eddie spend the vast majority of their time together. this fic is restricted to chris' pov, and he has no way of knowing whether, say, buck and tommy broke up, or whether his dad has been thinking about some things differently since he's been gone. buck and eddie Also have to spend twelve hours in a car together just the two of them between the end of the fic and their reunion with chris. this is not me saying that buck and tommy DID break up or that buddie got together while chris was away (i don't actually have a solid "canon" for where they're at), just that i intentionally left space for a wide range of possibilities due to chris' limited knowledge of what's going on with them!!

i kinda intentionally did not delve too deeply into the psychology of the diaz parents here because i think their behavior is a bit inscrutable to chris. the vast majority of his memories of them are from when he was really little, and therefore i think he doesn't actually know them very well as people. he knows that there's some tension between them and eddie, but prior to this fic he never really bothered to question Why. all he knows is that his grandparents will probably come and get him if he calls, and that it'll hurt his dad's feelings, and in the immediate aftermath of the kim debacle that's all he cares about. once he's in el paso, he starts noticing some things that make him a bit uncomfortable, but he never does determine for sure what their motivations and opinions are about this whole situation, whether they're treating him a certain way bc he's the grandkid or bc of his cerebral palsy, and whether their treatment of eddie really does stem from homophobia or not. at the end of the day he's thirteen years old and i wanted to leave his grandparents' True Selves as a bit of a mystery because 1. i don't think They necessarily know why they do what they do and 2. i don't think there's any one answer that would be satisfying.

chris literally had zero intention of saying anything to eddie about the Gay Thing he just is very much thirteen years old and emotional and he fundamentally Trusts his father to never like. lash out at him for saying something like that. so he doesn't try too hard to hold it back and impulsively says Hey Dad Are You Gay Maybe because he's never gone so long without talking to his dad before and he's just bursting with thoughts and feelings. he's not even trying to do a buddie matchmaking thing it's just that the easiest way to make his argument is to be like (points at buck).

[sharp-silver4795]

BEN Drowned HCs

I felt like doing some character headcannons so here we are!

Quick warning: THIS IS A LONG POST!! I really like my version of BEN-

Story Elements

⚠️CW!! implied su1c!de, parent divorce, and bullying. I took a few headcanons and a lot of the stories and mashed em together into this mess-

He’s autistic. He struggled a lot as a kid and teen. Especially after his parents divorced, his issues at school seemed to only get worse. He developed some anxiety around being social and tried to stay away from people.

During school he would live with his dad. It was a pretty place. There was a small wooded area behind the neighborhood, but it had a nice clearing with a lake… Ben was too scared to ever go in since he didn’t know how to swim and couldn’t see the bottom.

He got bullied a lot and didn’t have many friends, but found comfort in video games.

He can’t handle being touched and he hates eye contact. The only way he was ever able to communicate was through screens because it made it easier for him.

He loved to get lost in the fantasy of the worlds he played in, especially Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask…

As a young adult, he couldn’t get away from the screens. He felt safe! He felt normal, though hiding from the world.

As time went on, at age 21, he realized he couldn’t live like that. But he was too scared to go… he didn’t want to repeat every other time of his life.

So, he found some chains in his dad’s garage and decided to finally take a ‘swim’ in the lake…

Living in the Screen

So, yes. He’s apart of the Mansion and has the cabin within the Mid-Mansion.

He prefers to live behind the screens though. There’s no sound except the buzzing of the electricity, he’s not having to move around the circuit board, and he has completely privacy.

He’s in the game system, yes, but not too far. It’s almost like he’s in the lights that bring the graphics to life.

He’s not visible unless you put your face right up to the screen. You might see a few green and brown pixels-

That’s BEN.

Social Shocker

Introvert v. Extrovert

He’s pretty quiet and introverted.

Sure, he likes talking to people, and he can strike up a conversation with just about anybody…. But when push comes to shove, at the end of the day…. Leave him alone. Let him sleep in his electronic void.

Friendships

He has a few genuine friends that he holds close: Lost Silver, Dark Link, Neon Spike, Nina the Killer.

Outside of those friends, he doesn’t really hang out with anyone consistently.

Self Esteem

BEN actually has a lot of insecurities.

The water made it so his skin looks like it’s constantly peeling. He’s a sickly bluish green with bleeding eyes and carries chains on his arms and legs.

It makes him feel gross. So, he hides in his electronic void….

Unless he finds one of his “distraction buddies:” Jeff the Killer, Puppeteer, Nathan the Nobody, Clockwork, Jane the Killer, and LJ

These are the ones that he feels he’s better than. If he feels bad in his appearance or skills in murder, why not crush someone in a video game?

Burn Out

Like most people, he can get social burn out- or even video game burn out.

When he’s feeling socially drained he’ll either escape to the screens, or sit with some of the quieter folks.

It seems quite counterproductive to be with people while you’re socially burnt out- but it works for him.

He particularly likes to watch others work on their projects: Jason and his dolls, Liu with metal and woodworking, Helen painting, etc.

Neutrality

You might have noticed that there are members of both the Mansion and the Dungeon in this section.

That’s because the Operator can’t restrict his social life.

It tried to and failed miserably.

It’s not that BEN can move through electronics of any kind- BEN becomes the electronic.

The Operator can’t keep him from getting anywhere and to anyone…

In the Mansion

BEN is really just cybersecurity.

He keeps a tab open for people who he’s told might be getting a bit close to answers.

He’s also the alarm/warning system.

He set up a way to detect if someone who isn’t in the mansion gets within a certain radius, so he notifies the Rebellions.

Murder

BEN has to have his fun too, right?

He likes to challenge his victims and give them a chance at survival.

Basically, it starts by him being summoned (usually by accident).

Then, he gives the typical warning: YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT

After that, he cyber-stalks his victims for a while. Whenever he’s decided he wants to end it, he appears to them again.

He cuts all their power and cell service except for the device they’re on. He challenges them to a game…

If they win, they live. If he wins, they die.

Little does the poor victim know, BEN is a sore loser… in truth, they’re not making it out alive.

They are usually found dead after being electrocuted by their own device. It will be passed off as an electronic malfunction.

Sexuality, Gender, Etc.

He’s not exactly Aromantic, more like gray-romantic. He just doesn’t believe he can be in a relationship.

HE/HIM!! It makes him feel human again and not like a fucking monster.

Divider Creds: sisterlucifergraphics

Header Creds: MEEE!!!

[eredhes]

Hey!

I majored in anth at a p awesome school for it (had a so fun class where we hands on used paleo to neo lithic techniques- from making stone tools to processing hides) but there wasn't much available for prehistoric art (+ I was a major switch from microbiology so bio anth, epidemiology and forensics stuff, made more sense with my course history). Been out of school for almost 10 years now and unfortunately doing nothing even remotely related, but I'm wanting to learn more about prehistoric art of all sorts. With search engines being overrun with AI misinfo I'm not really sure where to start other than Wikipedia. Do you have any favorite resources you'd be up for recommending?

Thanks a ton! Happy holidays, and may the new year be kind.

Hello! I should preface this with saying I am just someone with a general interest and not remotely an expert haha! Getting to do hands on stuff sounds really fun!

A lot of my reading has been restricted to Upper Palaeolithic Europe, and cave art at that, so I can't really recommend anything outside of that.

I've been concerned also with avoiding misinformation - there was a painting I saw a while ago where it was obvious the level of research involved was typing "Lascaux" into pinterest and just using whatever results came up (the art used was from Cueva de los Caballos and Mesolithic) and it's been driving me nuts. I've been sticking to books for information, almost everything I've read has been through Internet Archive, and majority are over 30 years old so could be outdated, can contradict each other, and should be noted are can be very racist.

Putting the list of everything under a read more as it's quite long, I hope there's something useful in amongst all of this! Happy holidays, I hope you have a good new year!

Books and other resources I've found useful in no particular order:

The Cave of Lascaux: The Final Photographs by Mario Ruspoli (1987) [Is on Internet Archive but currently unavailable, the German version is still up.] When Lascaux was closed to the public Mario Ruspoli was hired by the French govenment to document the entire cave on film and wrote this book afterwards. Even though it's focus is Lascaux I found it a good introduction to the topic of cave art. I have tried to find the footage online with little success so if anyone knows... do tell. This book brings you through the cave and gives a good idea of the layout and where paintings/engravings are in relation to each other. I would love if there was something like this for other caves but I'm not aware of anything 🤔

Lascaux Virtual Tour [Link here] The video isn't toally clear but it gives a good sense of the layout, and you can click the little 'i' icon to see clearer photos and get more details.

Images of the Ice Age by Paul Bahn and Jean Vertut (1988) [Internet Archive Link] This book is also a good starting point! There's also Journey Through the Ice Age which is the same book.

Cambridge Illustrated History of Cave Art by Paul Bahn (1998) [Internet Archive Link] I haven't gotten around to reading this yet but it appears to be a broader scope and not restricted to Europe.

Palaeolithic Cave Art by Peter J. Ucko and Andrée Rosenfeld (1967) The main appeal of this bok is that it goes through the different possible reasons for cave art. I had to buy a physical copy as I couldn't find it online.

Kindred: Neanderthal Life, Love, Death and Art by Rebecca Wragg Sykes (2020) [Aeon article link "Sheanderthal: Not all Neanderthals were ‘cavemen’: half were women. What can archaeologists tell us about how they lived?] Not solely focused on art but she does talk about what the neanderthals made including a large circular structure in Bruniquel Cave - there is footage of the cave in the recent netflix documentary Secrets of the Neanderthals (not great, at one point the narrator says neanderthals lived in the neolithic lmfao but the interviews with experts are interesting).

Don's Maps [Link here] Really great website. Some books will mention a painting/engraving/sculpture but no image, so my first place to check is Don's Maps as everything he includes is either from a book which will be referenced or from his own visits to caves.

The Neanderthal Museum Digital Archive [Link here] Despite the name is not exclusively Neanderthal, lots of photos of cave art in the Wendel Collection (including a photo of the one known instance of a saiga antelope in cave art that I hadn't been able to find a photo of before!).

There's also the Archaeology Podcast Network and sites like Academia.edu but I don't have any specific recommendations at present.

[guzhufuren]

love love LOVE your The Sign gifsets. im still a newbie in giffing lmao and your gifs are like reaaally pretty so i was wondering how you do your gifs? i really like how it's sharp and the colors pop up beautifully (only if you don't mind sharing ofcc <333)

bun this is the kindest thing you could have said to me, thank you so much <3 i wanted to write down my giffing process for a while in case anyone would find anything in it helpful, so thanks for giving me a push!

guzhu-furen's photoshop gifmaking process (kinda oriented on saving up time)

from

to

1. Downloading a video. i prefer to download video files instead of making screen recordings because the latter usually leaves watermarks/captions and makes image quality lower. i will not be linking the downloading websites themselves directly, but they are all easy to find through search engines if you know what to search for! i download ql dramas from:

youtube:

if the video you need is above 1080p quality, search for youtube4kdownloader

if the video is age restricted, search for 9xbuddy

both these websites work for normal videos too!

mkvdrama usually has 1080p episodes of most asian dramas.

dramacool also has downloading options in case the show is not available on other websites!

2. Screencapping (i learned it through this tutorial)

i screencap using KMPlayer. here is the installer i used, but you can find versions of this program on various websites and torrents too! install the program and proceed.

screencapping steps: open KMPlayer > press "CTRL + G" to summon the Frame Extraction window > set identical settings to these:

note which computer folder the screencaps will go to (it has a label "Extract to") > go to that folder on your computer and create a bunch of numbered folders there, for example ten folders named from 1 to 10, these would be our separate folders for ten gifs > write "1" or a name of another numbered folder after the backslash in "Extract to" bar in kmplayer > go the timestamp that will be the beginning of your gif in KMPlayer > press "Start" in the Frame Extraction window and press play on the video > when the moment you need to gif is over, press pause on the video and press "Stop" in the Frame Extraction window. great, you now have your folder of screencaps!

3. Importing screencaps to Photoshop

i use Adobe Photoshop 2023, but had used Adobe Photoshop CS5 for a long time before that, so you can use any version you have or find! it's available on various websites and torrents.

open Photoshop > Scripts > Load Files into Stack > press Browse in the "Load Layers" window that was opened

open your screencaps folder (and pin the KMPlayer Capture folder for faster future access) > pick the screencaps you want for your gif by clicking on the first one, and then clicking on the finishing one while pressing Shift on the keyboard > click OK and let them load for some time! i have 65 screencaps loading at the moment

when the screencaps finish loading go to Window > press Timeline > press Create Video Timeline in the opened sidebar > press three dots that will say "Convert to frame animation"

4. Sizing & making the base of a gif

next part will be automatic. i use actions for almost everything from this moment. download the basic action pack here and my additional action pack that we will need here. load them in your photoshop actions window (Actions > Load Actions).

play the Script action to create frames.

now onto sizing your gif. these are tumblr's width dimensions for 3 types of gifs

my gifs are usually 540 px in width and 640, 400 or 345 px in height. i added a 400 px action (Sizing 400) in the action pack, you can use it! or you can follow the steps by hand:

Image > Image Size > put in the height you want and add 4-6 pixels there (mine will be 406 for a 400 px high gif) > OK

now we need to crop the gif for it to fit tumblr's dimensions:

Image > Canvas Size > change Width to 540 (or 268 or 177) and take away the 4-6 pixels that we left in the previous step in Height

when you figure out which gif dimensions work best for you, record an action and use it to save up time!

after sizing use the action Smart Object. now we have the base of our gif!

you can move your gif left or right if you want! i will be doing this because i would like to show more hips in the gif.

press Ctrl + T > move the layer however you need (not in height though) > press Enter to save

i moved it to the right and my gif looks like this now:

5. Sharpening (i use Tan's sharpening settings explained here)

i added two sharpening actions in the pack, they are called Sharpen Spicy and Sharpen Spicy 12. you can use one of them or you can sharpen your gif by hand, i will explain how to do it below.

Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen > 500% amount, 0,2 px radius > OK

Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen > 17% amount, 10,0 px radius > OK (you can change 17% to lesser or bigger, depending how intense you want your sharpening to look. i use 17% for 4k footage and 12% for 1080 px or less videos)

to smooth the sharpening a bit i use Gaussian Blur (this is optional, you can leave the sharpening as it is if you want your gif to be sharper).

Filter > Blur > Gaussian Blur > Radius 1,0 pixels > OK

now change blending intensity to let only a bit of the blurring effect stay (you need to change this by hand if you used the sharpening action also).

press Blending Options (the highlighted place) twice > change Opacity to 10%

this is what my gifs looks like with sharpening now!

6. Colouring (i learned how to colour the way i do through this tutorial)

to make it easier for you to learn i will share my blank colouring file. i created it to save as much time while giffing as possible, so whenever i need to colour a gif i simply duplicate all the blank adjustment layers to the base of my every gif and start colouring! once you figure out which adjustment layers work for you best, i recommend creating a blank colouring file too to save time.

if you want to go the easy way, open my colouring file and duplicate selected layers to your gif file by Layer > Duplicate Layer > insert gif's document name

if you want to learn by hand, create the adjustment layers that i will be naming in the process on your own, you can find them all in Layer > New Adjustment Layer

now we will use adjustment layers for our colouring from the bottom to the top! first, Exposure layer to add a bit of light to the gif. i don't always use Exposure because sometimes shots are bright enough on their own. i will, however, use it here. don't use it on your gif too much, because in the next few steps we will also be brightening the gif with other adjustment layers. i added +0,49:

next, Hue/Saturation layer. i use it in gifs with neon lighting to color correct overly bright colours. for example if your characters are standing in neon pink, you might want to lessen Saturation in Magentas and Reds to make the final gif less pixelated, and etc. i will not use Hue/Saturation on this gif, cause it doesn't need it.

proceed to the layer Levels. this layer usually does most of my colouring. click on the lowest white dropper in your Levels window:

now choose a light place on your gif and click on it with the white dropper. it works especially well if you use the white dropper on the lightened parts of face skin. you can play around by choosing different bright spots and seeing what works best. here is the spot i chose and the resulting colouring:

this is too light, so now we need to balance it out with the black dropper:

choose one of the darkest places this time and click it with black dropper! once again, you can play around and click different spot to see what works best. i will be clicking the highlighted spot and you can see what my gif will look like with this Levels settings

as you can see, darkest places became darker and other colours were corrected a bit! now, this is still too bright, so i will be decreasing the opacity of Levels layer from 100% to a smaller number:

i will have to continue in another post because tumblr only allows 30 pictures per one post in the new editor now and i'd like to explain everything in visuals. click to continue

[trashbirdthoughts]

Making another important post about KOSA.

Please do not wait around. I will continue to advocate that these bills are struck down since they will harm our youth and LGBTQ minors. It will also strip privacy away from adults.

I do not want kids to loose access to LGBTQ+ spaces. I also don’t want adults to have to enter their private information to access it.

What is KOSA?

Kids Online Safety Act

What would it do?

KOSA uses two methods to “protect” kids, and both of them are awful.

First, KOSA would pressure platforms to install filters that would wipe the net of anything deemed “inappropriate” for minors. This = instructing platforms to censor, plain and simple. Places that already use content filters have restricted important information about suicide prevention and LGBTQ+ support groups, and KOSA would spread this kind of censorship to every corner of the internet. It’s no surprise that anti-rights zealots are excited about KOSA: it would let them shut down websites that cover topics like race, gender, and sexuality.

Second, KOSA would ramp up the online surveillance of all internet users by expanding the use of age verification and parental monitoring tools. Not only are these tools needlessly invasive, they’re a massive safety risk for young people who could be trying to escape domestic violence and abuse.

90+ rights groups agree that KOSA is dangerous.

Link mentioned in the video by omarbigsister. Please do anything you can to advocate against this bill.

[luxradium]

PSA for podcast and audio drama creators:

If you publish a new episode of your show and it never shows up on Spotify, *do not panic*.

If you're using any kind of background music, it might've gotten flagged by their copyrighted content scanner. If it has, they do not notify you directly about it. Instead, they will notify your podcast hosting platform (i.e. Buzzsprout, Acast, Podbean, etc.)

If your new episode doesn't show up on Spotify within an hour or two (as it normally does), here's what you should do:

Create a video of your podcast and upload it privately to YouTube.

Check the 'Restrictions' column of the Content page in YouTube Studio. If the video you uploaded has 'Copyright' in this column, something was flagged and this is the problem. (In my experience, YouTube and Spotify's scanners are aligned).

Hover over where it says 'Copyright' and click the 'See Details' button. This will tell you what got flagged.

Confirm whether this content was legitimately flagged or not. If it was (meaning you can't prove that you have rights to use the music), it's time to replace the track and reupload your episode. (You'll still want to do the following steps after you do that). If wasn't, it's time to document why the flagging was in error. In Metropolis' case, we use a lot of pre-1924 music that is in the public domain per Title II of the US Music Modernization Act of 2018. But rights holders are notorious for not removing things that have aged into the public domain from their claims list. That means we have clear rights to use the music (as does anybody: again, public domain!), but we still have to go through the appeals process.

Contact your hosting provider to get the notice email from Spotify Content Protection. You need to ask their support team if they've received an email for your show from Spotify with a Subject line of "Possibly Infringing - Notification Warning - Claim xxx - ref:_xxx". It usually takes about 30 minutes to an hour for them to receive that notification from when the episode was uploaded. Within the email, there's a unique link to appeal the decision. Note that you only get five days to appeal - procrastination is definitely not your friend here!

Use the Appeal Link from the Email to file an Appeal Notice If you click the link, it will take you to a form to appeal the decision not to post the episode. This is where you need to present your case by either that you've replaced the music in question, or that you have a right to use it. If it's the latter - make sure you present the case as thoroughly and completely as possible (with links and references). (You'll also want to confirm that the track that YouTube spotted is the one that Spotify flagged.)

From my experience, Spotify will usually respond 24-36 hours.

If you took the right steps, it'll usually be a short note that they've published the episode and you're in the clear.

Cheers, and happy creating!

[perplexingluciddreams]

Using the internet and technology with high needs autism

I have been trying to put this into words for a while, but due to the exact thing I am making the post about, it has been very difficult.

First of all, a short (ish - I am not the best at concise) background of me and technology: Used to play games on dad's phone, and later watch YouTube videos on family tablet (with parent restrictions). However, ability to navigate devices was very limited, and if something went wrong I just panic and give to an adult.

We used computers a bit in school for work and educational games. Every time we went to the "computer area" I would cry because I knew I wouldn't be able to find the webpage on my own, or sign in to something, or type in a word document. At these times in school, usually another pupil would just sigh loudly and then come and do the computer thing for me over my shoulder.

I had an MP3 player that I got for I think my 8 or 9th birthday. The only thing I knew how to do, was play music and google search. But I still didn't really understand what a "link" was, or how to find important information. We were supposed to learn online research skills in school, but nobody ever explained the most simple stuff to me, so I lack the basic knowledge.

I got my first phone at age 10. This was when I also first get Instagram, my first social media (parents set up for me). I was in a group chat for my school year, but the only time I put a message there is when mum asked me to ask a question, about a non-uniform day for example. Nobody interacted with me in there, and apart from the messages I don't know how to navigate the app. I posted a few pictures a few times, but only when someone else recommended, and I didn't interact online.

I have poor language comprehension, slow processing and take longer to learn new skills. My computer skills and especially typing skills are majorly behind my peers. I have slowly learned some skills allowing me to be even on Tumblr in the first place, but I still need a lot of support and it makes me very anxious. Part of my difficultly on social media, is the social interacting part. Mostly due to low interest.

But my biggest challenge is poor comprehension. I get very anxious and upset when I come onto Tumblr and all the posts I try to read don't make sense to me. Especially when the post is about a topic I care about - if I read it and I can't know what people mean, then I will just be very upset for the rest of the day.

Second biggest challenge, not being able to express opinions on important topics. Often, I can't even understand something. Then, I can't form an opinion because it's too complex. Or, I have an opinion, but I don't understand if someone agree or disagree with me from what they write.

I work so hard to gain skills and learn enough to even be here, and then all I can find about people like me is other people arguing about our existence. Want to express my frustration at this. To even write this post I had support from mum, and it takes all my mental energy.

It is true that I have low interest in socialising - direct impact of autism. So social media maybe not best place in the world for me, by default. But I still want to understand and be included. Not be treated like place to just ask "am I counting as high support needs". I don't understand even my own needs enough to answer this for myself - I definitely can't answer for anyone else.

A lot of my challenges, come direct from autism. That's just a fact. Wish it was easier, very often. But also wish it was easier online - I can't be part of outside community, only online.

I post here to express thoughts and feelings, that is also just what this post is doing. I did less big big edit on my words this time, wanted words to be closest to how I think it (don't think in words so not possible to show abstract thoughts direct, but closest to first translation).

[modestbirdwizard]

How to Steal Youtube like your Dad Stole Cable: A non-comprehensive guide.

Piracy is cool and you should do it.

I mean it, I fully condone the theft of copyrighted material online for the masses. You should consider the relative prices of a sturdy VPN to the cost of all your monthly streaming subscriptions and see what I mean: The mere fact that so many of these services trade the same movies back and forth on a bi-monthly basis only proves one thing, They don't respect you or your hard earned money. The prices go up, the services offered get more narrow and ill-defined, and worse to boot, but the torrent sites still exist and they still have everything I could ever want.

There are other guides on how to get any movie or album you want online, and maybe I'll write another, but today I want to talk you through something different. Piracy for the modern age, stealing something that would make the eyes of any tin-foil antenna wielding cable pirate misty with pride.

Let's get around youtube's bullshit under the jump:

We're going for the big dog. We're going… for youtube premium. I'm writing this guide with Firefox and Android in mind, but as far as I'm aware this will work more or less on chromium based browsers as well.

The two web extensions you'll need for your desktop:

https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/ublock-origin/https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/sponsorblock/

If you're like me and find yourself in a youtube death spiral more often than you wish, you might want this one too:

https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/hide-youtube-shorts/

Now, we address the app on your phone. Real heads have known about this trick for years, but it recently came to my attention.

ReVanced is a revival of the original Vanced app modding tool, and what it lets us do is very simple: bypass restrictions in many of our favorite apps like youtube, duolingo and others, so that we can get back essential features that have been paywalled. Specifically for youtube, we can now access off-screen playback, windowed playback, ad-free viewing, and we even GAIN a feature for our trouble, sponsor block, which uses crowdsourced data to find and skip embedded sponsor spots in videos. Think Squarespace and raid:shadow legends.

When you're installing revanced, you need to be careful not to install a pre-made hacked .apk, you really need to apply them yourself because nefarious users are everywhere and WILL send you malware. The ReVanced Manager app makes it very easy anyway, so you shouldn't need to rely on pre-hacked apks anyway.

You can get revanced from their page. Make sure it's the real deal, because there ARE fakes around.

You can find a current or slightly out-of-date youtube app around online very easily if you search. A slightly out of date apk is preferable here, as it means more of the hacks will work out of the box. If you've already downloaded the ReVanced app, then it will suggest a version for you to download.

"What about my TV?!" I haven't done this one personally, though I do intend to soon. My understanding is that you can use the command line on your fireTV stick to download a hacked app there as well! It's not an Enter The Matrix-tier operation, you just have to type a couple lines into a console. Super simple!

"Why aren't there more links in this post?" The companies have the internet too, and you probably know how to use it a bit more than they do. Posting links is like handing info to the enemy.

[mr-sadman]

Mr. Sadman presents : Sandmanniversary 2024!

Welcome lovelies!! We hope that you join us for this weekend celebration, from August 3rd to 5th, all around our favourite tv show!

Our stance on plagiarism and AI 

We do not accept nor condone the use of plagiarism, including the use of AI, whether in writing or art. If you are caught using either, you will be disqualified from the current event and barred entry for the other events the Mr. Sadman team puts forward.

Disclaimer : all images used in our graphics come from the Unsplash Archive (https://unsplash.com/about) which are free to use

General Rules and Information

Being a server member, while strongly advised, is not mandatory for this event. Our AO3 collection will be entirely open and unmoderated for everyone to post. We will be accepting late submissions, so fear not if you don’t have time to post everything you wanted to post! Additional events, such as watch-parties, fic read-alongs and game nights, will be held on the server.

The official tags for this year’s edition are : #Sandmanniversary and #Sandmanniversary 2024

For reblogging purposes, make sure your tumblr blog is visible in searches and don’t be shy to tag our account (mr-sadman)! Unfortunately, despite our vigilance, some posts can evade our attention, if that’s the case, please DM us and we will rectify the situation.

Official AO3 Collection : Sandmanniversary 2024 [link]

If you are under the age of 18, you will not be able to create explicit content for the event. Just to reiterate, Mr. Sadman is a 16+ server.

The Mr. Sadman Modteam is a firm believer of “ship and let ship” as well as the kinktomato (https://fanlore.org/wiki/Kinktomato). In accordance with the Server’s existing rules, we will not tolerate any discrimination and harassment in any forms whatsoever. This includes: queerphobia, homophobia, racism, content policing, hate speech, doxxing, shaming, etc, as well as hostility towards organisers and fellow participants. 

Since the event is a few weeks away, what can I do now?

Spread the word and the joy! We have decided to post the prompts early to give more time for people to get creative!

Without further ado here is this year’s prompt list : 

Saturday 3rd

Uniforms Secrets Strap-ons

Sunday 4th

Call in the night College Impact Play

Monday 5th

Domesticity Amnesia Shibari

FAQs/TLDR

FAQs : 

When is the event ? From August 3rd to 5th! While you should post the prompt for each day it is associated with, we will also be accepting late submissions, so have no worry!

Can I combine prompts? YES!! Be sure to indicate which days and prompts you are using in your description, otherwise, go free! You can post on either days associated with your prompts, or, if it’s a multipart work, on each corresponding day!

Is there any content restriction ? We accept all  works of all mediums - writing, art, collages, playlists, podfics, translations, video edits, etc. - , whether they are SFW, NSFW and/or triggering. Writers and artists- tag appropriately ; Readers and viewers - be mindful of tags!

Where should I post my work ? Anywhere from Tumblr or AO3!! We have accounts on both platforms and we also have an AO3 collection : Sandmanniversary 2024 [link]!

What tag should I use for visibility ? We recommend using both #Sandmanniversary and #Sandmanniversary 2024 as well as tag our account (mr-sadman) ! We will try our best to reblog every entry but if you see that we haven’t reblogged/retweeted your post yet, don’t be afraid to DM us! Make sure your blog settings are set so that your posts appear in searches - otherwise we might not see them!

Are polyamorous ships accepted ? Yes!! The more the merrier!

Are xReader / xOC works accepted? Yes!!!

Do I need to be a part of the server to participate? Absolutely not! Sandmanniversary is open to all! Although some additional events (such as a watch party, game nights and fic read-alongs) will be held on the server, submissions do not need to come from server members only!!

I need help, how do I reach a mod?

If there is something that is not covered by our rules masterpost and/or FAQ, you are very free to reach out to us in the Discord server’s dedicated channel or in Tumblr DMs! 

[equixen]

Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia Pairing: Caspian / Peter ( Caspeter ) Song: ‘O Holy Night [Epic Trailer Version]’ by J2 (feat. Anthony Fedorov)

Video links: YouTube | My Google Drive

Hi all, today I bring you my latest Caspeter fanvid! This is the one I mentioned in this post that was keeping me up at night when I first came up with the idea :)

There's no direct embed for YouTube this time as I have made the decision to age restrict it on YouTube. I don't consider it to be too explicit but this one does depict a love scene between Caspian and Peter that's a bit NSFW (largely edited using scenes from Dorian Gray, My Sweet Audrina and Red, White and Royal Blue) so I have erred on the side of caution to avoid being kicked off that platform. Which is also why I'm not uploading the video directly to Tumblr either.

So, if you're logged into a YouTube account and over 18, you can check out the video on YouTube and if you don't have a YouTube account, you can check out the video on my Google Drive.

And, because I’m an overachiever, I also edited an extended version of the love scene as though it’s a scene from the movie with a small amount of dialogue and some musical score. You can find links to that video here.

See below the cut for the inspiration behind this video and a summary of the storyline.

I came across this cover for ‘O Holy Night’ while watching ‘A Paris Christmas Waltz’ during my recent Christmas movie marathon and the idea for this video instantly became stuck in my head. Despite this being another song with religious connotations, I have once again made this all about Caspian and Peter and their relationship :)  

To clarify the story, we start with an older Caspian pondering his past which quickly flashes back to the night of Miraz and Prunaprismia’s child being born and leads up to Caspian meeting Peter. Their relationship plays out like in the movie with a first kiss occurring just before the duel. After the battle is over and celebrations have begun, Peter retires to his bedchamber and Caspian soon follows. Alone together for the first time since before the battle and relieved they both made it through, all their pent-up desires quickly flood to the surface and they share a night of passion. The following morning, Caspian wakes up alone and then the big farewell takes place. But, just before Peter passes through the archway, Caspian calls out to him and Peter turns back. We then flash forward again to the scene from the start of the video to find out that Caspian and Peter are still together in Narnia, quietly talking about the events of their past.

So, yeah, I really wanted to try editing a happy ending for them with this video and I hope the flow of the last few clips doesn’t feel too random :)