#I see people complain about how it's not realistic to be able to tell every little detail about a scent

[justaballoffluff]

Tari wouldn't be a doctor or a scientist, but she would be a perfumer. give her any scent or smell and she could pull it apart and then recreate it

[not-goldy]

1. Pretty sure Jimin said he wanna keep on performing so that doesn't change because he became 30

2. Jimin also said he'll be if he got chance to just sit on a chair and sing for fans when he's not able to perform anymore

3. If he's queer who wants kids.. realistically there's no other option except dumping Jk, marry a woman and have kids.

4. I thought everyone who's approaching 30 feels the same way. Joon had it, jm already started talking about it... so it's surprising to see Tae who's the exact same age being so unbothered about it and living his carefree life

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

What has same age got to do with anything?

Yes Jimin has said all that- he's also said he's lonely in while surrounded by family and loved ones.

Vmin said they want to grow old together- yet here they are. Couldn't even do the buddy service together🥲

Jungkook has always wanted to be a singer- didn't stop him from trying to yeet himself from the group to pursue dance🥲

BTS knew they wanted to sing and dance and be part of the group- didn't stop them from considering disbanding even though music is what they all dream of making till the end.

Ever bought something you wanted so bad and felt a few seconds later you shouldn't have bought it? Even though you know it's something you've always wanted and something you'll probably always want?

Humans are complex multilayered beings with complex thoughts feelings and ideas.

Life, dreams, goals- our desire for them can be so fluid sometimes and Introspection is a common human phenomenon that accompanies these fluid moments of choice making.

Jimin is just being introspective at this point in his life is all we are saying.

There's nothing too complex about that that it should be confusing. A person can want something or someone and still express fears and doubts uncertainty and anxiety about that same thing.

It's right there in his songs when he sings about how it's begun, that he is in his prime time. I think it's out of such honest introspection that he's able to spit out those beautiful lyrics he pens. His past, his future, he's in the in between. Transitioning, becoming🤭

We act like the concept of 30 thirty is difficult phenomenon to comprehend when 30 is even the age limit for Korean men to serve. If you can't relate to turning 30 think of how idols have to put their careers on hold for 2 years how they have to shift their life goals and plans to factor in serving by 30.

Vmin are same age yes and OF COURSE they both have to worry about serving before 30. Every Korean Male worries about this at the barest minimum if not anything at all. I don't know why people can't seem to comprehend this.

Like you said, the hyungs went through a similar phase- unlike the hyungs, the maknaes don't get to sit with it. They have to do a lot of thinking at base and we can't tell them cheer up, we can't reassure them, we can't give them a unique perspective- we are on different sides of the wall.

Rather than construe the whole turning 30 phenomenon as some abstract Far fetched phenomenon- perhaps let's not. It's not that complicated 💀

These things are very natural and very common among us humans but especially for people who have a culture where turning 30 is a major rite of passage- Besides, late 20's and early 30's is when lots of people's brains fully mature biologically speaking- or so I hear so it makes sense why people would suddenly start being hyper introspective around that age.

To some it's a myth but to some they do very much enter this hyper introspective phase when they reach that point in their life. If you frame the discourse as one of introspection as you should then you'll find it as preposterous as I do the idea that Tae isn't introspecting about turning 30.

Unbothered????

Youve never heard him talk about how he doesn't look as handsome every now and then?

I recall him complaining about Covid and how it's stealing their youth and how frustrating that was for him. I recall him talking about children and how he would love to see each member's kid.

Of course he thinks about his life, marriage, kids, his career and even his changing facial features. Joon tries to shut him up when he talks about these things but he does. For someone who worries about these on a regular a particular age turn perhaps may not make much of a difference don't you think?

Tae can be very introspective as well. It may not be a seasonal thing for him like it seems to be for Jimin and others but rather more part of who he is.

He doesn't say much during his lives but he can be in his feels too- at the most random times too.

They are all human

Aside- do you know you give off "your colleagues are getting married what are you doing with your life" vibes?

It's giving Indian parents, Nigerian moms🤣

"You are the same age as that person why are you depressed when they're happy with their life" 💀

The concept of individuality seems lost on you

[chaos-in-one]

How to be a "real system" according to fakeclaimers

(mainly taken from subreddits like r/fakedisordercringe but I have seen it other places too)

- Don't be open about it on social media, ever

- In fact you must be 100% ashamed of it and never share it with Anyone Ever

- You have to be miserable, if you're happy then obviously you can't actually have a serious trauma disorder because it definitely isn't a covert disorder where the entire point is that there's parts that appear untraumatized for safety and to help keep the person in denial

- You can never call yourself or any other part a person, a REAL system would never see alters as people

- You have to be able to tell anyone at any given time exactly what you went through to cause your disorder and it has to be The Right Kind Of Trauma, otherwise you're obviously just making it up

- Oh but also if you know your trauma you're faking, a real system wouldn't remember that

- You can't be trans. Especially not nonbinary, and Especially not with any sort of "weird" gender, everyone knows trans people who claim to be systems are just attention seeking fakers

- You can't have any other disorder. Especially not the popular ones (the 'popular ones' vary based on what disorder fakeclaiming spaces are focusing on the most at any given time), there's no way you could have more than one disability, obviously

- You have to be over 25 at least, preferably in your 30s. Because obviously diagnosises being less common in teen years and early adulthood means it actually never happens and anyone claiming to be a system that's younger must be faking

- No introjects. Doesn't matter what kind. Introjects obviously don't exist. Especially not ones of popular media that a ton of people know about and enjoy, no that doesn't make sense at all.

- You can't find anything happy or positive related to being a system ever

- Actually you can't call yourself a system either! Because obviously the real ones would only ever use strictly medically used terms, it's not like people with disorders are capable of being their own individuals and having ideas of how to describe their own experiences in a way that makes sense and feels comfortable to them

- If you have any child alters they have to act EXACTLY how a child actually that age would be, doesn't matter that child alters are built off the brains perception and the brain structure is different from that of an actual child that age

- You have to always recognize and make it clear you see your system as parts of you. Doesn't matter that one of the main symptoms of OSDD and DID are being unable to recognize other parts as yourself, if you can't do that you're a faker!

- you have to share all the same opinions as me on discourse. It's not like you are an actual person capable of forming unique opinions and having your own view on things or anything, or that your opinions don't indicate the validity of your symptoms.

- You can't like anything cutesy or soft or childish, obviously if you do you just see being a system at an aesthetic

- No self expression!!! Especially not in an alt way like heavy makeup or piercings or dyed hair!!!!

- You also can't like the same media as me because if you do you're ruining the media for me which makes you a faker

- Alters can't be mostly or all conventionally attractive because that's not realistic (it's not like heavily imposed beauty standards can heavily influence a young traumatized child or anything)

- Don't complain about ableism, only the fakers do that

- Actually you can't call yourself a system either. Only fakers use anything but strictly medical terms well known and used by professionals, because obviously a real person with these conditions couldn't possibly come up with their own terms for their experiences on their own

- Don't talk about your disorder too much, that's attention seeking. But if you don't talk about it enough then obviously you're just faking to use the disorder as a prop for your own gain.

Basically just don't exist publicly as a system every otherwise you're one of the fake ones! I promise this isn't just another way of trying to other this minority and push them into hiding so I don't have to deal with their existence! We're just trying to protect the real ones!!!

[starry-nights12]

Longing (For the one word timebomb requests)

One Word Prompt (Ekko's POV)

CW:Implied Se///xu@l Content

I told everyone in the sanctuary I would be back in three days.

I'm proud of the community I created and watched grow over the years. I provided everyone with a sense of safety from Silco's rein.

I loved everyone there. Jinx being there gave me an extra reason to stay.  But even I needed a break every now and then. Some 'me time' as Jinx puts it.

The sanctuary was my home away from home. I still lived in Benzo's shop. I grew up there and wouldn't dare abandon it.

I felt the familiar sense of her eyes watching me. I turned around to meet her gaze.

She was holding her arm behind her back as Scar grunted with effort; her frame was disappearing inch by inch behind the vault.

"Haven't you had enough of me?" I grinned crookedly.

Jinx rolled her eyes, chuckling while shaking her head.

Last night our clothes were strewn across my bedroom floor.

We panted softly, and she laid her head on top of my chest. She hummed in content, her magenta eyes glowed as she gazed at me with a sated smile.

She held my chin between her fingers and then proceeded to plant tender kisses across my face until her lips met mine.

Our lazy kiss steadily turned more heated and passionate. Our lust reignited and we had to have another round to extinguish it.

I flipped her over and pinned her hands above her head. She sunk her teeth into her lush, bottom lip then both moaned as we grinded against each other

I expected her to quip about how much of a self-absorbed asshole I was, she wanted me to get out, or that she 'hated' me.

Instead, she smiled at me. Her eyes softened and told me the three words she was too scared to tell me.

"Never." was the last thing she uttered before the vault closed completely.

I stood there for a good minute.

I understood why she hadn't said it. Yet my heart still ached for the words I've been longing to say.

"I love you too, Jinx," I murmured.

════

So,here I was. Sitting in a bar nursing my beer mug.

The place was small.

The jukebox was playing a vinyl with ukelele music. There were hardly any customers here but I wasn't complaining. The beer was cheap and decent.

I wondered what Vander's would taste like.

When I was a kid, sometimes me and Jinx used to pretend the juice Vander gave us was alcohol. We laughed when we pretended to get drunk and throw up.

For my twenty-first birthday, I imagined, Benzo, Vander, and my friends celebrating in The Last Drop.

The bar would be full of Vander and Benzo's friends to celebrate our birthdays. We were happy with what little gifts we were able to receive.

It's in four months. The Last Drop had been boarded up since Silco's death.

I would love to have Jinx and Vi with me to celebrate. I didn't care where. I just wanted us to be together but I knew it wasn't realistic.

The two people I love most couldn't even be in the same room together without being overwhelmed by the pain they inflicted on each other.

Especially since Vi's friend is with an Enforcer. After killing her mother, Caitlyn would want to be the first to capture her.

I snapped back to reality as the sound of giggling disrupted my thoughts. A couple was sitting near each other at the far end of the bar.

He had his arm around her shoulder and she had hers around his waist. They were both holding their beer mugs with their free hand.

He leaned in and whispered something in her ear that made her nearly spew her drink and cover her mouth.

"I should fuck you up. You're lucky you're so cute." they both laughed.

My lips twitched with a hint of a smile.

I knew what I was getting myself into when I allowed Jinx to stay. But I still got a little envious of couples I see on the streets.

If our lives had gone differently then that could have been us.

Life would be great.

I had a woman I knew loved me and would continue to love me when we turned old and gray.

Jinx had grown into the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. I would be able to show everyone how lucky I was to have her around my arm.

I would ask Benzo for advice about dating and how to be a great boyfriend.

Vander has known me since I was little. There wouldn't be a need for me to be nervous about meeting her Dad for the first time. 

He would trust me to have good intentions with his daughter and knew I would treat her with the love and respect she deserves.

Mylo, Claggor, and Vi would tease us about being love birds and how we should get it over with.

They would have bragged about how they were right to tease us about our denial of our crushes on each other.

People can freely galavant their love while I had to keep mine a secret. I had to tuck her away or else we both would be thrown in Stillwater.

I knew fully well that Jinx didn't have an ounce of remorse for killing those assholes and shattering their ivory tower.

The Enforcers would probably kill us first to take revenge on their beloved fallen comrades.

"They were good people." They would say.

Good people don't terrorize the people they're supposed to help.

Good people don't work with drug lords. They don't accept their money and let people from the Undercity die from shimmer or by their own hands.

We were good people.

But look what happened to my family. Our lives were irrevocably fucked over because of something I did

I thought we could have gotten a huge amount of money from my tip on Jayce Talis-The future golden boy of Piltover turned most hated council member.

We wouldn't have to go through another night worried about what we were going to eat or when we'd be able to.

No.

Instead, I brought Silco's attention to us. My actions became a butterfly effect of our lives being ruined.

It's my fault.

It's all my fucking fault.

The self-loathing and anger raged in me like a fire that was ready to combust. I doused the flames by chugging down half my beer.

I slammed my glass on the counter and panted heavily. I wiped the alcohol from my mouth and trail down my chin.

I signaled the bartender for a refill. She gave me a curt nod and filled my beer mug to the brim.

I was going to go home and pass out until the next morning.

I was going to feel good after a few more.

I was going to feel fucking great.

[rred-gaze]

(Chinhands) Tell me about your verdante headcanons

HI i have like. a lot of Jumbled Thoughts about them some of which aren’t even headcanons? idk. ill just throw everything here it’s gonna be long

thoughts on Canon interactions:

-the april fools event was fucking wild BUT there were crumbs like. the implication that they’re stuck together in every universe. vergilius clearly being worried while trying to fix them and telling off ishmael for bashing dante’s head in. shoving his hands in dante’s head and getting them covered in oil and grease. “i’d much rather have this glacial gaze over any other” HELLO? verdante surprisingly wasn’t very popular before but it fucking exploded after this which is GREAT for me because i was starving for years

-vergilius is bitchy in general but he seems to be Slightly nicer to dante. like when they have to revive the sinners for the first time he asks them gently at first (before threatening them when they refuse but still), he literally straight out says “you might be the only one on the bus i can actually converse with”, that part in canto 4.5 where he complains about having to talk with heathcliff and ishmael but after dante expresses their appreciation for it he gets a bit nicer about it and says they can consider it a favor

-vergilius can READ THEIR THOUGHTS? like they didn’t even say this out loud

-in addition to vergilius reading their thoughts dante eventually just expects to be understood by him despite him (supposedly) not being able to hear what they say. they both joke about their conversations being one-sided but. are they really. if a man can’t understand your words but reads your mind/expressions and responds to that in kind so you can properly have a conversation is it really one-sided

-vergilius fucking with them occasionally is very funny. sometimes he just says some long-winded poetic bullshit that just amounts to “fuck you im not explaining this to you” or just says that

-inferno red…red gaze…fuck you guys have matching colors for

actual headcanons ig (me just making shit up):

-they’re loser4loser vergilius in a miserable wet cat way dante in a trips over cracks in the concrete way

-i enjoy them in various forms, realistically i dont think they’d act on their feelings for each other but my favorite is where they kiss and heal because i NEED vergilius to let himself open up to someone so badly. everyone he was close to died </3

-it would take a LONG time for them to get close i think with vergilius. being how he is. he’s trying his best not to get close to anyone and it would be very hard to break down that barrier even a little bit but dante would be very patient with him

-due to aforementioned loved ones dying i think he’d be especially protective of dante and charon

-vergilius shows love very subtly and i think dante would pick up on it but maybe question his intentions or just Why at first

-vergilius seems very touched starved to me so if dante showed him any sort of physical affection he’d melt and lean into it like a very sad cat. i dont think he’d be for PDA at all though…if dante tries to hug him in public he just stands there and waits for them to stop

-i dont think vergilius would hug people often but i imagine him doing it in a really specific way for some reason. one arm around the waist with his face pressed into the shoulder and hair hanging down covering his face depressedly. i think he’d only do it if he was particularly sad and would only give them to dante, one of the children (including garnet and lapis/charon), or someone in his office

-something i noticed is that when he genuinely smiles it’s usually when no one else is looking. but what if dante got to see

-i think vergilius sleeps like garbage due to ptsd, he probably tends to have a lot of nightmares. being held by/holding dante may ease them just a little

-dante is very lost and confused and not very confident in theirself and i just like the idea of vergilius kind of giving them courage but in a very Him way yk what i mean. like when he said their performance has been decent recently

-expanding on how i like verdante kiss and heal vergilius not only carries so much grief and guilt with him at all times but thinks he deserves it for all the horrible things he’s done. he doesn’t even think he deserves to be loved and suffers in silence. he hasn’t talked to anyone about this. opening up to dante about it wouldn’t fix him but i think it’d make him feel a bit better at least. i want SOMEONE to tell him that he doesn’t need to suffer any more than he has and deserves to be cared for. i want vergilius to tell them about the people he cared about so deeply and for someone to see how much love he has to give

-going to angst central now, vergilius canonically at least knew who dante was before their memory loss (said they were a bit of a bigwig before that happened) so if they knew each other and were close there could be the grief in someone you love not even remembering who you are. which would make that the second time it’s happened to him

-the reason vergilius even joined the company in the first place was for the promise that he would get garnet and lapis back. it’s very possible that dante needs to be sacrificed to get this so he’d end up needing to choose between them. i like this as a concept to explore BUT in terms of it in a canon setting in my opinion it literally makes no sense to put that man through any more grief than they already have narratively speaking. projmoon media has always had a theme of the light in the suffocating darkness, there’s never any real “good” endings for anyone but there can be good things for them in the end of their arcs. a bittersweet sorta thing. there is an entire novel dedicated to vergilius and it ends with nothing but pain and suffering for him so it wouldn’t make any sense for all of that to be for nothing

stuff from the divine comedy that i just feel like i should mention somewhere:

-if you don’t know they’re based on the characters from the divine comedy, which is about the spirit of dante’s favorite poet (virgil) leading him through hell. dante really looked up to virgil and regards him as an inspiration who he holds a lot of respect for

-if i remember right virgil is also a bit bitchy to dante in the beginning but they get closer throughout the story

-before paradiso, virgil is unable to accompany dante in his tour of heaven due to being stuck in limbo himself. i cant remember exactly what the text says but it’s meant to be very emotional and dante cries when he has to leave him

in conclusion i’m sick in the head. some of the things i mentioned aren’t inherently romantic and i like the idea of it platonically too, like vergilius just allowing himself to finally open up to someone please god. i do actually hc dante as aroace (im projecting) so! yes dating is still an option but….qprs…..i like all of these options

i think a lot of why i like verdante is because of how invested i am in the both of them separately tbh. makes my favs kiss each other

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

Re: your post about people adding homophobia to tf2 fanfiction. People are allowed to write whatever they want (within reason obviously). There are always going to be people out there who write stuff you don't like to read, and there will also always be people who like to read that stuff.

I'm trans and gay and I like to see a representation of my struggles that seems realistic to me in fic that I read. Seeing fictional characters overcome things that I haven't been able to overcome irl is comforting. Other trans people like more escapist stories where there is no homophobia or transphobia even in situations where that might be "realistic". Neither perspective is wrong, and both stories are worth telling. It's simply preference. You seem to be painting the less escapist stories as bad because they're not what you personally connect with.

First of all that post was also about racism and antisemetism being used to "add depth" or whatever which you are conveniently choosing to not bring up because it's harder to act like "what if it Comforts People to write about Demo tf2 experiencing hate crimes 🥺". Second of all, fucking obviously people can write whatever they want. I don't control you. However, I would like you to consider that it is not "comforting" for a lot of people to see like. "tf2 bigotry headcanons" where op is like "yes uwu Scout is homophobic and would get ur pronouns wrong!" and I'm allowed to talk about not liking that. My talk abt homophobia/transphobia specifically centers around the idea that no, it would not be "more period accurate" for characters from the 1960s to either not be able to comprehend of trans people or to constantly be hatecrimed for being gay, because gay and trans people are not new and neither is our acceptance. You can write whatever you want but I'm allowed to feel disheartened by the fact that so much representation of gay and trans people is built around our suffering (our REAL suffering that is still continuing, mind you). I understand that writing about characters overcoming that can be comforting, but I'm fucking sick and tired of everything w trans people in it being about transphobia or dysphoria or both. People KNOW about transphobia. It feels like every single Fucking piece of "lgbt representation" has to include something about violence against us and I'm tired of it sorry. Again you're obviously allowed to write whatever you want but I'm also allowed to complain about it and be upset by how prevalent it is lol. I would love if people stopped taking literally everything I've ever said as some kind of Grand Manifesto and trying to accuse me of "hating whatever you personally don't like" because I made a post whose point was, please remember, "it's weird to make every fan depiction of a black character be about racism"

[woennix]

Just a little qsmp discourse post, I've been thinking about it for a while and I just wanna share something.

I agree that everyone should have their own interpretations of characters and you don't need to keep up with EVERY pov to say what you think about a character, but I do think that people should be a lot more kinder with the interpretations they have of characters in general.

This comes mainly from seeing people talking badly about characters (the latest one qWilbur, but I've seen it time and time again, with characters I enjoy and characters I don't). This always ends up with people having more context for a character's actions than others, and others making a big judgement without seeing the whole picture, or people who actually try to listen and understand a character's motives but are still upset about it.

I do think disagreeing or even disliking characters is fair, I mean, I do dislike some characters, but ALL of them have motives and explanations for why they do what they do, and also ALL of them have done questionable things to eachother.

The thing is, if I try to, I can create a horrible narrative for EVERY character (I'm not joking, I'm pretty sure I can) where they are manipulative, self-centered, selfish, hypocritical... but telling everyone: ''This character is SO evil because of this specific one thing he did one time to my favourite character!!!'' when that was a cc having fun, or maybe a slip up etc, kinda kills the fun for the ccs. Something I feel some people not take into account is that this is minecraft improvised roleplay, where at the same time creators are meeting eachother and just playing and having fun.

Yes, lighthearted moments where people are joking around kind of are lore, but sometimes, ccs just wanna have fun. This happens a lot with qRoier, where obviously his joking attitude is integrated into the lore and his character is actually joking about a lot of stuff, but like, for example, him enjoying mines is like 90% the cc wanting to have fun, not his characters actually not giving a fuck about killing the eggs (just an example of some takes I've seen). Even though if we think about what he is doing realistically, it wouldn't be an absurd assumption to make that he doesn't care. Now, I think it should be interpreted as what it is,,, Roier enjoying and having fun in the server. What I mean to say is, is this lore? Yes it is, qRoier canonically enjoys mines. But also, are we going to overanalyze this and make assumptions on his character and actually apply real-life logic into how we interpret every interactions he has? I would say that's too much, and makes the server an only roleplaying server where creators can't just fuck around and have fun.

I will say to be clear, if someone wished to bring things into their interpretation of the character that are little details like these and make it a headcanon for themselves, thats completely fair! But that's not actually canon unless the ccs decides to make it canon, and it is important to make that distinction in my opinion.

Btw I chose the qRoier example beacuse I think it wasn't a very big deal (at least in my tl) but I do not mean to create or re-open a whole debate about his morality then if it was big, I am just using him as an example. And also I say this because multiple ccs have complained on some way or another about feeling a bit overwhelmed/upset with this kind of thing. Cellbit and Baghera complained about people misinterpreting their characters and projecting into canon things they didn't mean to do, and Roier has complained (albeit a bit jokingly) that things are too heavy and people are too intense with the lore.

Honestly if this didn't bother the ccs I would tell most people that even though I dislike what I see as mischaracterizations, you can go crazy lmao, but if it makes them not be able to enjoy roleplaying as much and being in general on the server, then yknow... It could be cool if we could find a way to criticize or say what we think about characters in a more contructive way that adjusts to the ccs' vision.

[blueopinions49]

[NGE] Asuka Langley Soryu ENTJ 3w4 so/sx

Zodiac: Sagittarius (December 4,2001)

MBTI 

ENTJ (Te-Ni-Se-Fi)

Te (Extroverted Thinking) 

“One most be graceful and efficient in battle” this line right here surmises Asuka’s Te. As a Te dom Asuka puts a heavy focus on efficient and objective logic. She has a no-nonsense attitude and straight forward way of thinking. Asuka likes talking control over situations and being in leadership roles. She constantly compares synching rates to those of Shinji and Red believing her to be better due to this.

Ni (Introverted Intuition)

Ever since she was little Asuka liked to maintain long term goals and focus on her life vision to become the greatest Eva pilot. Heavily Focusing on this idealistic projection of her makes her go tunnel vision in the early show and later on having to adapt to her Se. When it comes to Ni-Se users they have constant a battle of maintaining realistic expectations while shaping their Ni vision. And we can see this in Asuka’s arc through put the show. While some people type her as an ESTJ I believe ENTJ suits her more accurately due to her lack of attention to detail and not interested in meticulous processes like Rei (ISTJ) not to mention the her symbolism with dolls. 

Se (Extroverted Sensing)

Asuka has a very good handle of her Se. Asuka is able to adapt quickly to some situation. However I wouldn't say her Se is good enough to make her an Se dom. She barely uses it on the show unless it comes to highly stressful situations (fighting angels). She is very good at acting fast when push comes to shove. Later on in the season we can see her go Te-Se loop when her syncing rate scores are threatened by Shinji. Becoming impulsive and reckless in order to get better results. 

Fi (Introverted Feeling)

As most Evangelion these characters struggle with their Fi and Asuka is no exception. Arguably the character who struggles with it the most due to low in her stack it is. She has a very hard time trying to express her emotional desires and understanding them. Every-time Shinji tries to make an emotional approach to her she shuts him down and runs from him every time. Even when confronte with her Fi she deny’s it. Red herself tells her to open up her heart for the Eva or her sync rate was gonna go down. 

Enneagram: 3w4 so/sx

There is an argument to be made about how she could be an 8w7  since she is constantly complaining about not being a doll (in her mind a loss of autonomy). However I believe her being an E3 suits her better since her primary way of gaining validation is through a professional lence rather than by becoming fully independent. While the doll part came later on in the season. However her craving for external validation might suit her more (something an 8 would deny).

Next is Rei Ayanami...

[degraman]

I know it's not a question but...Many praises for your game and your fortitude <3

I've been a fan of otome games for over 12 years now and have played every English one and many in other languages and I can say that the model of Degraman is different but amazing! It truly is overwhelming with all the choices and different endings but, it's the first time i've ever felt motivated to explore each and every choice on top of all of the possible endings. The creative world building is beautiful and the suspense and tension and the stakes you all set are thrilling! I'm glad you've come to terms with that your game won't be able to please everyone. And in all honesty a large part of the otome if not gaming community as a whole is dumb and obnoxious as all hell. I used to translate japanese games and the outcry i'd hear from localization teams choice on which games they pick is ridiculous.

Many people have the customer is always right and simply want self gratification and validation to be right. So a game that basically doesn't have the MC be special or they can't self insert into automatically becomes trash. But I would argue the MC isn't designed to be that way nor does she need to in Degraman. It makes sense how she thinks, and it's realistic. Perhaps not relatable to many people but she's *real* no matter what choices you pick. The MC is fallable and the world of Degraman is Extremely dangerous and volatile. It makes sense how each of the choices affects the others down the line and how even the smallest difference can make big changes. I would argue its very realistic, we have no way of knowing how a single choice or word can affect our future or how different things would be if anything changed. So I quite enjoy how not transparent the game is with what the right thing you're supposed to say is. Its a very welcome change, because it allows the reader to give true answers that they feel would be closer to themselves rather than, how do I please [insert LI name here].

I am also extensively thankful for the guide it makes things a lot less frustrating after a few runs of many different bad ends. If the guide didn't exist, I'd probably only have gotten half of the endings before deciding I needed a break. But instead this crutch motivated me to really explore every nook and cranny of the game and its lore. Which again, is riveting! It's a good change of pace, as well as realistic, that a bunch of men aren't just willing to fall for this random girl and are trying to simply earn her favor in exchange for a power boost. As such it makes sense why they couldn't and wouldn't really be bothered to tell the MC the whole truth. (As well as keeping things free from spoliers down the line XD). As a female gamer and streamer surrounded by men, that is THE most relatable moment in the game. Realizing that everyone is just around for their own benefit and using you like a tool. People find honesty difficult if it could put them at the slightest disadvantage, despite it probably making things worse in the end. However, that has not stopped every single person I've ever met struggle with that problem.

So anyone that complains that this game is frustrating or bad, is probably living a very fortunate life in which they haven't been hurt too badly by other people and don't see that this is actually extremely realistic and gives power to the players choices. That or they really just wanted a cute easy game to make them feel good about themselves to escape from reality. Which I mean, from the game intro and a lot of the art previews, I think they'd realize its not a simply happy go lucky love story.

I truly can't wait for everything else to come out. I also wish there was a way like kofi or a kickstarter or patreon or something I could do to support you all! Perhaps there is and perhaps i'm inept at finding it lol.

Much love and support! I have a real question after this one. But this was just an anon love letter to you all.

First of all, we apologize for not responding to your letter for such a long time. Your message warms our souls. It's very important for us to know that there are players like you who have felt our idea and supported it. It is also important for us because we find kindred spirits in this way. Fighting genre stereotypes is much easier when there are those who share our path. Making a guide was a difficult decision for us, but your message confirmed that it was the right decision. We have a patreon you can join if you wish - https://www.patreon.com/degraman Thank you for your words of support and gratitude

[rubykgrant]

This is going to be slightly vague... that’s because I’ve been seeing similar situations more and more over the years, so this applies to a LOT of things, but if this reminds you of something recent, there’s a reason; this keeps happening.

I really love drawing and cartoons, but I’ve never been able to really “make a thing” in terms of having a career in art/animation. I’ve mostly given up on ever doing anything myself (for several personal reasons, I’ll talk about that elsewhere), but I’ve still got some thoughts about that; first, I guess I dodged a bullet, because every part of the entertainment and creative industry just seems to be DESTROYING itself. Big companies, small organizations, everything; we constantly hear about employees being mistreated, not getting paid properly for their work, being let go/fired over petty reasons, and so much more. People nearly killing themselves under the pressure to meet crunch deadlines, working through medical problems and various disasters, and then not even being financially compensated for what they do. Voice actors, both new/aspiring and well-known stars, are treated like they have no value.

Never mind how the content gets treated once it is finished (shows getting cancelled after the first season, not for lack of interest or success, but just because nothing is allowed to be “re-watched” or enjoyed more than once, a new show needs to come out every month, and the previous ones basically get erased), or the obsession with “no spoilers” (writers not even allowed to plan out plot-lines, actors not being given full scripts to read, nobody even knows what they’re doing or why), or video games all turning into the same thing (hyper-realistic graphics that glitch and make the game run slow, DLC for more than half the game to even be playable, and so much micro-pay going on you basically buy the game three times). So many people keep getting thrown in the trash. How is anybody supposed to CREATE anything? Even the “big” companies treat their employees like they’re working at some dinky little start-up that will “pay you in exposure”, so you wind up living in your car while they sell T-shirts with the art you drew, but you never even got a paycheck, so you definitely aren’t getting royalties.

Between movies, animation, video games, and every other creative field, people are working themselves past burn-out, and going “above and beyond” has become the constant state. I’m not even worried about myself getting a job; I hate the thought of seeing all the creative people I know (both personally and just from a distance) who have talent and passion potentially being eaten alive by what these industries have turned into. Yeah, jobs are hard, that’s why it’s called WORK, but PEOPLE DESERVE TO BE PAID FOR THEIR WORK. If your dream-job has turned into a nightmare, at the very LEAST you should get enough money to survive... but that just doesn’t seem to be happening. It’s terrible, and sad, and frustrating. It has also been going basically since FOREVER.

On top of that, incredibly unpleasant work environments just adding fuel to the fire. I hate that any complain regarding mistreatment between co-workers gets ignored as “PC nonsense”. It isn’t a NEW CONCEPT to be reasonably polite and professional in the workplace. Yes, even when you make silly internet videos, or cartoons, or whatever. I’ll be fair and say- sometimes people don’t know how rude they’re being, they don’t see how hurtful something is, and it can be embarrassing to be told they’ve done something wrong, and they wind up getting defensive. That much is understandable (to a degree). It still means they need to try and STOP. Don’t keep insisting actual harassment is “just a joke”. Jokes are what you tell people because you want them to laugh, and you want to make them happy. If somebody isn’t enjoying it, then it isn’t a joke. Sometimes you just need to say SORRY, because you didn’t realize it was a problem, and then move on. You DON’T just keep doing it until your co-worker is so miserable, they can’t even focus. If you can’t handle the idea of treating co-workers decently, then YOU are the problem.

Meanwhile, certain people who constantly share how deep their hate goes keep making money, because one time they made something that became popular, and it stayed that way. Not just hurtful, but HATEFUL, and fueled by the never-ending money from fans who don’t care about real people with real problems. Some people learn, change, and grow. I want to really stress that growth is hard and shouldn’t be discouraged (not to say minimum effort to be kind should be applauded, but if you finally see what’s wrong, and you want to do better, it is WORTH the effort to do so). However, some people double-down and intensify. They can’t let go of every awful thought they have, and turn it into a war, not caring about how much damage they cause. It is such a prevalent problem that almost NO organization or title is without people like that; so many movies, TV shows, cartoons, comics, books, and games connected to awful people... even when you drop something and boycott it forever, the person who caused the problem doesn’t get hurt. They still have all their money.

The way people get treated in the workplace is killing their creativity, and sometimes literally threatening their lives; between mental/emotional health getting destroyed, and not making enough money to pay bills or buy food, how is anybody supposed to live through this? It also makes the content itself suffer, and instead of giving the employees a chance to catch their breath so they can be satisfied enough to make quality work, they all get fired. Big companies buy smaller ones, studios get shut down, jobs suddenly vanish or get “dissolved”, projects are cancelled even when they were nearly complete, and people are left destroyed. Again, this has ALWAYS been a problem. Even way back in the old days of black-and-white movies and cartoons without sound, people got mistreated at work (and that can apply to basically any job). Media of all forms and entertainment might not be integral to survival, but creativity is still IMPORTANT. Telling stories, making music, and sharing art of any form is how we connect, both with reality and fantasy. How can anybody tell their stories in this condition? How can anybody even help other stories be told? It isn’t fair that so many GOOD shows get dropped on cancelled, it isn’t fair that so many people are worked nearly to death, it isn’t fair that problems like racism/homophobia/sexism/transphobia/etc get ignored for years and years. It never has been fair.

I’m not at all “internet famous” enough for anybody relevant to see this, but if they could; Start paying the people who work for you properly. Start treating them decently. Start allowing creativity to actually grow. Start rewarding all the effort being put into projects. Start paying attention to what needs to change. Start being better people.

[burnin0akleaves]

maddie for character impression (get well soon king)

Going to power through this ilness just because you told me to now, I can't not do it. (Thank you)

First impression: Again, hazy memories, but pretty sure I was annoyed by her at first. I didn't hate her, but the scene with Jenny? Yeaah I was with Will on that one.

I warmed up to her pretty quickly after that, and seeing that she was actually deeply insecure and felt the need to prove herself won me over. I put myself in her shoes the whole book, and Maddie ended up being braver than I would be every single time. I remember being EXTREMELY stressed at the part where Will has to stay back and Maddie has to get the kids to safety alone, because I just thought about how horrifying it would be to have that much responsibility on my shoulders and to be forced to make decisions on my own without Will's guidance.

Proud to say that it has been quite a few years since then and that I would be able to handle a situation like that better now, but middle grade Howls was extremely impressed by Maddie.

Impression now: I love her! Maddie has so much depth to her and I think she is a great character. Has her mother's spirit, her father's wiseness and her uncle's willpower. Like, think about it for a second, the girl is literally surrounded by all the legends of Araluen. You bet your ass she will grow up to have the best parts of all of them.

Favourite Moment: Already talked about the part where she has to take charge in book twelve and how that had a big effect on me, but I also need to talk about the scene where she is forced to kill for the first time. I love that she didn't cower away in fear or kill in cold blood. She was faced with an extremely scary situation for a child, a man breaking into your room in the middle of the night to threaten you into silence, but she managed to control her fear and defend herself. The scene where Will comforts her and tells her how brave she was is extremely sweet, I'm glad that she got to be comforted like that.

Also the entirety of the Red Fox Clan duology? Her taking complete control of the situation in Escape From Falaise and dueling that one knight alone? VERY badass. I really hope her story continues.

Idea for a story: I want Araluen, and maybe the whole world, to face another crisis. Maybe something supernatural and world-ending. It starts from when Maddie is a ranger and at some point in the story she has to take charge of the entire kingdom as queen as well. She has her family to support her obviously, but none of them are in their prime anymore. At the end, she has to face the enemy herself, alone. I have bits and pieces of scenes floating around in my brain for this but nowhere near a full story, so thats all you're getting.

Unpopular opinion: People that hate Maddie but love Horace and Cassandra are complete hypocrites. She has great character development, and is a genuinely lovable character. Her growth isn't any less realistic than her parents, some people just hate TRR and pick it apart to find every single thing to complain about.

Favorite relationship: Will and Maddie. I love watching the royal family be together as well, but the uncle/niece relationship has a special place in my heart.

And when it comes to romantic stuff, I'm glad Maddie doesn't have a love interest forced into the plotline. Leaves room for queer headcanons and just... lets the girl be herself. You don't need to be in a relationship with someone. I do wish she got to make more friends, but I also understand why she really wouldn't get to. Being the princess and Will Treaty's apprentice at the same time doesn't really let you relax and socialise. I'm glad she has Ingrid at least, and I hope we'll get to see more of her at some point.

Favorite headcanon: Cassandra doesn't get to use her sling anymore as queen, but she is too sentimental to throw it away. When it becomes obvious that she won't get to use it again, she gives it to Maddie. The sling is very old and Maddie would never replace the weapon she is used to, let alone use her mother's sling that went through so much, but she holds on to it.

[fizzingwizard]

a rant because sometimes you gotta, or just tear your hair out (warning for incels, misogyny, and incel logic lol lol)

I just read a message that stated 1) incels harassing women online counts as a "social experiment" 2) those "social experiments" are trustworthy because there are "thousands" of them (although despite a long back-and-forth, none were ever actually presented, neither were links or sources or even any proof why I should believe the elusive women in question are even real), 3) all the women in these "social experiments" immediately agreed upon being told they're ugly bitches to meet up irl with these hot but rude men, apparently with zero of the concerns for their own safety most people online have, 3) this proves without a doubt that negging absolutely works in general on the majority of women, and that when women complain about rude behavior from men online it is because they have a victim complex and not because they want the rudeness to stop.

Now aside from the perfect "tell me you're an incel without saying you're an incel" moment, here is what is essential for all women, and really anyone with more than one brain cell, to remember when interacting with them:

When your opinion is realistic, decent, empathetic, and rational, but the other person still insists that their unfair, unreasonable, cold, self-serving, offensive opinion is the correct one, you have to know that you are right anyway. This is one of the essential skills of being an adult: how to spot when an opinion is a good one. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but not all opinions are created equal. Because of human individuality it is near impossible to know anything about our nature with 100% certainty. No doubt negging does work on some people who maybe enjoy the rise of being provoked, or who have experienced too much poor treatment in their life that their boundaries are blurred. But by the same token, it is that very complexity of nature which makes any generalization that conveniently serves one's selfish purpose immediately suspect.

And if a person presents their opinion boldly and with confidence, a reasonable person will feel confused, and wonder if they're missing something. Because that person is decent and knows that information needs to be verifiable, that personal anecdotes are not by themselves a social experiment, that social experiments themselves have flaws and variables which need accounting for, and that anyone can lie with ease on the internet - but they afford the same value of honesty to the other person, whose dogged persistence throws them for a loop. That's when you simply MUST trust in your own discernment.

No sources means no validity. No proof that the participants involved are even who they say they are means no credibility (this is doubly true when - as in the case I saw today - the person makes wild claims without proof while simultaneously disbelieving screenshots and other sources given by others which say he's wrong because they can't be proven). "My friend is a 6 foot tall model type and he's never been rejected by any woman ever and went on one hundred dates in a single year" tells you absolutely nothing that can be verified, nothing that can prove this isn't an outlier if it is true. And it throws OP's opinion in such an entitled, self-serving, convenient light that even if it is true, it needs more information to justify it, not less. But you can be sure they'll never admit that and will endlessly dodge the point, and rely purely on bravado, which for some reason is better able to convince certain types of emotionally-motivated people than actual facts.

Incels are emotional vampires. They prey on each other's dissatisfaction and misery. Instead of supporting each other to lift themselves out of their hole, they are so afraid of what they'll see in the light that they use every method in their power to rationalize why the light is bad and wrong and the cave may not be everything they ever dreamed of but at least it won't hurt them. They believe PUAs because it lets them feel powerful ("even if I never have a chance to use these skills myself, now I know how to control women"). They don't believe a word real women say because it makes them feel helpless ("women lie and I know this because what they say doesn't agree with how I'm feeling. men who agree with them are chads who do it for sex or weaklings"). Everything they believe is rooted in undeveloped, uncontrolled emotionalism. No one else deserves sympathy, no one understands them. They hate women but want to date them but dating women is a horrible experience but they clamor to know how to pick them up but being with them is awful but only chads get women but their life would be so much better if they had a girlfriend but women only like guys who treat them badly but im a nice guy even though no one apparently wants that...???

The logic of the incel is always: how can I make myself the martyr? Men don't abuse women: women want to be abused (problem solved!). Women don't want to date me: women only like bad guys (I don't have to put effort into self-improvement!). I had a bad experience with a shallow and mean woman: this proves the majority of women are shallow and mean (but if a woman has a bad experience with a shallow and mean man it's because she likes bad guys instead of nice guys like me and she should have chosen someone better if she didn't want to get abused).

Not all opinions are created equal. Not all opinions are created equal. Believing something because it divests you of all responsibility for considering another person's feelings or experiences is not sensible. It is not worthy of respect. And it does not negate the need for evidence. Vague, nonspecific allusions to "social experiments" don't count. Nor do your friends joining in with their personal tales of woe (which in this case were two persuasive essays titled "Girls liked me better when I was hot" and "I saw incels talking about females they successfully negged somewhere on the Internet" lol).

Being an adult means judging for yourself. If you don't have discernment you will be lost in the mire. The problem is that these guys are fine being lost as long as they can continue to suck other people in by clouding their judgment with brags, boasts, and addictive bursts of unguarded emotion. So to anyone who ever doubts their discernment because of how fucking convinced these guys are that they're right just because: keep the tools of verifiable evidence, controls for variables, and humility always at hand and you'll never be lost. You might be wrong sometimes - happens to the best of us - but you'll be respectable even then. Don't let them trick you: it is NOT better to appear right, or have the appearance of righteousness, than it is to be open-minded. And you CAN'T be a nice guy if you choose the former, because the former DOES cause harm, both to women and to emotionally vulnerable men who get tricked as well. My dude, that is not being nice: that is literally being mean.

(By the way, since personal anecdotes :) :) count as social experiments :) :) :) evidently, here's mine: When I used online dating, I got four types of messages: detailed descriptions of graphic violence the sender would like to do to me despite our never having spoken before; conversations which began well then degenerated into him hurling insults and accusations at me because I didn't text back right away; requests for sex despite my prefs stating that I don't hop into bed without knowing someone well and was only interested in long term relationships; some genuinely good conversations with nice, non-abusive men. I met my boyfriend that way. It took a lot of patience, a lot of rejection, and a few tears (the violent messages were really creepy to me), but we're still together five years later and he has never, not even once, ever been mean to me. Go figure.)

[eliemo]

Bored of Love

Summary: Virgil knows Roman is going to leave if he doesn't change. But he still has time. He can fix this.

TWs: social anxiety, fear of a breakup, misunderstandings

Notes: Enjoy this little oneshot while I work on some of my bigger projects. Romantic Prinxiety, established relationship

Virgil didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this.

Which was stupid, he’d put himself in this position. It’d be selfish of him to back out of it now. He might ruin everything irreparably if he even tried.

Virgil could suck it up and deal with this, even if it felt like he was going to die the next time he stepped into a public place the Imagination created for him.

But that didn’t matter. Because this was for Roman- and Roman was beaming. He’d been thrilled all week, eyes lighting up in a way that made Virgil dizzy whenever he suggested another date idea or activity to the Prince, carefully hiding the exhausted waver in his voice that hadn’t gone away after three straight days of taking Roman out.

He’d thought he might have been going a little overboard, offering to go out and do things day after day. He’d been a little worried Roman would catch on to what he was doing. Maybe he’d laugh at how disgustingly desperate Virgil was.

But he didn’t. The Prince just looked more excited each time, jumping up and sweeping Virgil off his feet and into an embrace when a new idea was presented.

And that made it worth it. Roman was happy- happy with Virgil- and that was the best feeling in the world. If it meant Roman would keep loving him, that Roman would stay, a little exhaustion and extra anxiety was something he could live with.

Virgil was just...glad he’d forced himself to do this before it was too late.

He hadn’t noticed it until last week, how...annoying it must be for Roman whenever Virgil wanted to stay in and do nothing. Again.

Virgil had thought it would be ok, that Roman understood that sometimes going out and doing things, being active and social, was just a little too much. He’d warned Roman about it before they’d gotten together, that his anxiety could be an obstacle, that he’d do his best but he’d always prefer to be alone with his boyfriend, held safely against his chest.

And Roman hadn’t cared. Not even for a second. He’d waved it off with grand declarations of love that he’d quickly pushed aside in favor of more serious, quiet promises, holding Virgil close to make sure he understood.

All he wanted was Virgil to be comfortable and happy. All he wanted was for them to be together. If Virgil would let Roman love him, he would be happy no matter what they did.

And that’s what they’d done. And everything had been...perfect. It had been better than he’d ever thought it could be, everything he’d never let himself dare to hope for. Being with Roman made the world feel ok, and the bad days more than worth it.

Virgil loved him. And he was so so scared to mess this up.

Which was why last week, when Roman had actually been annoyed by his introversion for the first time, Virgil had panicked immediately and scrambled to fix everything.

Roman had suggested going out on a date night, something a bit more extravagant than their usual quiet dinner in Roman’s room or in the empty kitchen. And as nice as it sounded, Virgil knew there was absolutely no way he would have been able to handle it that night.

His anxiety had been acting up, leaving him jumpy and tired, and even just the thought of venturing out into the Imagination left him wanting to curl up in his bed and never leave.

And he’d said as much, sheepishly admitting he’d really rather just stay inside for the night. And instead of the usual gentle understanding he got in return, Roman had scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Of course you don't,” he’d muttered. “Come on, Virgil, you never want to do anything fun. Staying inside all day is boring. I’m just trying to do something nice for you like a boyfriend is supposed to do since apparently you can’t return the favor.”

And then he’d stormed off, probably to complain to Patton and Logan, and Virgil he’d been left on the couch feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

Roman had said when they’d started dating that it was ok, that he didn’t care. He wanted Virgil, not the dates and outings and activities. He wouldn’t care if Virgil was too anxious to go out. He’d be perfectly content curling up in bed and watching a movie they’d both seen a hundred times before.

Was that...not true? Had he changed his mind? Was Virgil getting boring? Was he annoying Roman?

Was Roman going to leave if Virgil didn’t hurry up and get it together?

Maybe it was already too late. Maybe Roman had already gotten bored and fallen out of love with him. Maybe there was nothing Virgil could do to convince him to stay with someone like Anxiety.

Beneath the panic, Virgil had recognized he was spiraling. Roman wouldn’t leave him, not out of nowhere. Not over this. Virgil still had time to fix things. He could be better.

Roman had apologized less than an hour later, complete with a bundle of purple flowers and a nervous smile. Virgil hadn’t been mad, of course, and he assumed the apology had only felt necessary because it was impossible for Virgil to hide the fact he’d been crying.

But they were fine now. That had been days ago, and Roman clearly wasn’t giving it a second thought.

But Virgil hadn’t stopped thinking about it, and the next day he’d come to Roman with a date idea, something similar to what Roman had suggested. Virgil had been tired and a little unfocused, but it had been worth it to see Roman positively beam at him.

And then Virgil hadn’t...stopped. He’d kept making plans around their pre-existing schedule for filming and time with the others, more and more piling up until Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a moment to himself.

It had almost been almost a week now, a week of taking Roman out every day and pushing down panic and exhaustion because Virgil was fine. This is what he wanted because it was what Roman wanted.

Every time a date ended the thoughts would come rushing back, panicked and insistent that Roman was still going to leave him no matter what he did. What if it hadn’t been enough? What if Roman had wanted more? What if Virgil had been too quiet- too boring?

They wouldn’t be silent until Virgil made another plan, took them out again, until Roman smiled with undeniable excitement and led them back into the bustling Imagination.

They had another dinner date tonight, in just a couple hours. Virgil found himself hunched over the breakfast bar in the kitchen, staring blankly at his half empty mug of coffee, and trying very hard not to think about how Logan was staring at him.

“Virgil,” Logan said carefully, and Virgil heard him approach from the kitchen doorway. “Are you...alright?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said quickly, too quickly, because he wasn’t fine, it felt like he was going to break down if he had to do one more thing today. They’d already worked on filming, and Thomas had gone out with a friend that morning, and Virgil just wanted to sleep. “Why?”

He heard Logan move even closer, tensing when the logical side put a hand on his shoulder. “Because you’ve been incredibly active this last week, and that isn’t like you.”

Virgil grimaced and shook off his hand, probably more aggressively than was necessary. “I’m fine. Maybe I like being active.”

“You don’t,” Logan said, and it wasn’t a question. “And there is nothing wrong with that, Virgil. Some people are more introverted than others, and socializing drains them more quickly. Not to mention your anxiety makes you—”

“Yeah, I know,” Virgil snapped, pushing himself off the stool to dump his coffee in the sink. “I’m shit at doing things and I’m trying to fix that.”

“There is nothing to fix, Virgil. Pushing yourself like this will only hurt you. I don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself.”

Virgil sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing at the edge of the counter to keep himself from having a breakdown on the kitchen floor. Logan didn’t deserve to deal with that.

“I’m taking my boyfriend out to dinner,” he said, hating how his voice shook. “And I took him out a few times this week because he deserves it. That’s all. I’m fine, Logan.”

Logan was silent a moment, Virgil still refusing to turn around. “If you told Roman this was hurting you, I’m sure he would—”

“Don’t tell Roman.” Virgil finally spun around, eyes wide and panicked, meeting Logan’s raised eyebrow.“Please, don’t tell Roman, Lo you can't.”

Logan shook his head, watching Virgil with a mix of something between sympathy and concern. “It is not my place to talk to Roman about this. But I do not recommend letting this continue.”

“I’m doing this to make him happy,” Virgil said, and it sounded small and pathetic to his own ears. “I’m...I have to, Lo. He deserves so much better.”

Logan sighed, short and quiet, and for a second Virgil thought he was going to be told off. Virgil was being ridiculous, and no amount of faking excitement and energy could get Roman to stay with someone like him.

But Logan just reached over to squeeze his hand, smiling gently. “Roman is happier than he has been in years since entering a relationship with you. Please try to remember that.”

And then he was gone, leaving Virgil to try and catch his breath in the middle of an empty kitchen until he found the strength to hurry upstairs to get ready for dinner.

--

Dinner was great, obviously. It was great because Roman was there, smiling, eyes twinkling as he talked about...something. For the life of him, Virgil couldn’t focus on the conversation anymore.

He was exhausted and the background chatter of the other people in the restaurant (because of course when Roman created something he had to make it as realistic as possible- what was the fun in a date at a fancy restaurant if it was completely empty and quiet?) was grating against his skull. It was too much and as wonderful as it was to see Roman so happy, Virgil just wanted it to be over.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to Roman’s room and climb into bed and sleep against the Prince’s chest and forget about the world.

But he couldn’t, because this wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough, he had to do more because the second Virgil showed just how much he hated this Roman would stop smiling, and he’d realize just how awful Virgil was to be with. Roman was a Prince, he deserved so much better than Anxiety, and if Virgil didn’t change—

“Virgil?” Roman had stopped talking, and Virgil quickly snapped to attention when he realized Prince was staring at him, brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”

It took Virgil a moment to notice he’d started shaking, uncontrollable trembling that was impossible to hide when he took a sip of his water.

But he was fine. He was fine and he needed to get over himself before Roman picked up on anything.

“I’m good, Princey,” he said, cursing how weak his voice sounded. “Do you want to go out to breakfast tomorrow? I had some ideas.”

Roman stared for a second, and Virgil’s heart sank when his smile started to drop. “You’re shaking like a leaf, Virgil. Do you feel sick?”

“No.” Virgil squeezed his hands into fists, nails digging painfully into his palms. “I’m fine, I’m...I’m just cold. It’s cold in here. Do you want to do breakfast tomorrow?”

It was clearly a lie, Roman always kept the temperature perfect in his realm, and Virgil felt more like he was overheating than anything.

“Virge...” he reached forward, freezing when Virgil flinched back before he could stop himself. “Honey, you...do not look fine.”

“I am,” Virgil argued, even as tears began to gather in his eyes. “I’m fine, I swear. We’re having a fun time, I’m ok. You’re...you’re having fun, right? You like these dates?”

Roman didn’t respond for a moment, cautiously looking Virgil over before speaking carefully. “I...I do, but—”

“That’s good!” It came out a bit too desperate, and Virgil internally cringed. “That’s...that’s good. They’re for you.”

“But I’m an extrovert,” Roman said. “We know I enjoy being out and about like this. You’re...Virgil, it’s ok if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do. I do want to, I promise. We’re..we’re having fun. You’ve been having fun.”

“I have,” Roman said slowly. “But if it’s at the cost of your mental health we can have fun doing other things. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“Yes I do,” Virgil said before he could stop himself, wincing when his voice broke. “And I’m fine. Do you want to go out to breakfast tomorrow?”

Roman was silent for a long moment, too long, watching Virgil like he was worried the anxious side might break. Virgil thought he might, too.

“Actually,” the Prince started, voice soft. “I was thinking we could stay in tomorrow.”

Virgil hated how quickly his head shot up, hope clawing at his chest when he saw the sincerity in Roman’s eyes. “You were?”

“I was,” Roman said. “I may not be as good as Patton, but I could figure out how to cook us something edible. We could eat it in bed and watch movies, if you’d like.”

It was like a weight had just been lifted off of Virgil’s shoulders, letting him breathe for the first time all week as he wiped away tears still pooling in his eyes. “That...would be really nice. If- if that’s what you want to do. If you’re sure.”

Roman nodded, back to smiling gently, and Virgil couldn’t even try to hold back the pathetic sobs that broke free, leaving him hunched over and trembling in the middle of the restaurant.

He heard Roman’s chair scoot back and for a terrifying second he thought the Prince was leaving, finally giving up on the pathetic mess sitting across from him.

But then there was another chair being pulled up beside him, and Roman had gathered Virgil into his arms and against his chest, letting Virgil cry into his shirt as he held him close.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said, and Virgil didn’t understand why he was the one apologizing. “Gosh, I’m sorry Virgil. I’ve...I’ve been so selfish, haven’t I?”

“What?” Virgil pulled back, still clutching at Roman’s shirt. “You’re not being selfish, Ro. I’m...I’ve been trying to make you happy.”

“I was perfectly happy how we were,” Roman said softly. “I thought you were being more social and I didn't want to discourage you, but I completely missed the signs that you weren’t enjoying it.”

“I was enjoying it,” Virgil said, and it was only half a lie. “You were so happy. You were happy. It was worth it.”

“You’re breaking down,” Roman said, and Virgil flinched. “Nothing is worth this.”

“But—”

“I’m gonna talk to Logan about a day off,” Roman continued before Virgil could argue. “You’re going to sleep in, and I’m going to make you breakfast, and we’ll spend the day unwinding. Alright?”

It sounded amazing, like everything Virgil had been desperately wanting all week long, but...but it was the opposite of what he’d been trying to do. He’d ruined the night, and Roman...Roman didn’t look upset, but...

“Are...are you mad? It’s ok if you are, but I—”

“No baby,” Roman said, soft and gentle in a way that only shattered Virgil’s resolve further. “I’m not mad at all.”

Virgil wasn’t sure he entirely believed that, not when he’d so royally fucked everything up. “I’m...sorry. I’m so sorry, I was just trying to be better.”

He felt Roman freeze, tightening his hold for just a second before loosening again to look Virgil in the eyes. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed, not sure why it was a question. “I’m...look, Princey I know I’m a shitty boyfriend and I- I don’t know how long you’re going to put up with it so I’m...trying to change. I can do better. I promise I can do better next time.”

Roman was silent for a long moment, and Virgil expected him to sigh, begrudgingly admit that Virgil was right, he’d just been hoping his frustration wasn’t so obvious, and agree to try another date tomorrow when Virgil got over himself.

Instead Roman tightened his hold, eyes wide and...horrified? “What on earth are you talking about?”

Virgil frowned back at him, panic and uncertainty coiling in his gut because he hadn’t actually thought any of this needed to be explained.

“I know I hold you back,” Virgil said, continuing before Roman could protest. “You love going out and doing things and I know it’s...frustrating that I don’t. You don’t go on quests as much anymore and you're less active because I like to stay in, and I don’t take you out like I should, and I—”

“I don’t go out as much because I’m happy spending time with you,” Roman cut in. “I’d go out if I wanted to, darling. I like staying in with you. Yes, these dates have been wonderful, and I appreciate them. But I’d prefer to do something where both of us are comfortable.”

“But—” Virgil’s breath caught on another sob, and he tightened his hold on the Prince. “But you said I never...I- I thought you were getting bored with me.”

Roman looked confused, but it only lasted a second before realization took over. “Is this...is this because of the fight we had?”

Virgil shrugged, eyes on his lap. “It...wasn’t a fight. You were honest with me and I tried to fix what I was doing wrong.”

“Oh, baby.” Roman’s hands were suddenly cupping his face, tilting his chin up to meet Virgil’s gaze. “That wasn’t me being honest, Virgil. That was me being an asshole because I had a long day and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Virgil couldn’t see with the way the tears were blurring his vision, but the anxiety that had been relentlessly wrapped around his heart since Roman had lashed out was beginning to unravel.

“Oh,” he said, a little breathless. “I thought...I just wanted this to be perfect for you. I wanted to be good.”

“Neither one of us will ever be perfect.” Roman smiled, wiping away Virgil’s tears with his thumb. “But I love you. I love you so much, Virgil. You’re perfect to me.”

Virgil struggled to breathe around hiccuping sobs still coming from his chest, completely lost because this wasn’t...this was all wrong. “But you...you deserve the best.”

“And I have that. You being comfortable and safe is all I could ever want, Virgil. You’re my world.”

And well...great. Now Virgil was crying in earnest all over again, collapsing into Roman’s chest and letting it all out, melting into his embrace as he once again held him tight.

Roman shushed him gently, rocking them both where they sat, running gentle fingers through Virgil’s hair. “You deserve the best too, Virgil. Please don’t ever put yourself below me.”

“I do have the best,” Virgil said, muffled from where he’d buried his face in Roman’s chest. “If...if you stay.” He quickly pulled back, panic clawing at his throat. “Not- not that you have to stay. You don’t. I’m not...you’re not trapped or anything, I just—”

“I know, Virgil,” Roman said gently, and he relaxed again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ok,” Virgil sighed, breaths still shaky, head rested on Roman’s shoulder. “Sorry for ruining dinner.”

“You didn’t,” Roman assured, rubbing gentle circles along the anxious side’s back. “Would you like to go home?”

Virgil probably nodded a bit too fast, but Roman didn’t seem annoyed in the slightest. He just scooped Virgil up bridal style and carried him through the now silent restaurant. Virgil belatedly realized Roman had gotten rid of the rest of the customers.

“I love you,” Virgil whispered, wrapping his arms tight around Roman’s shoulder when the Prince kissed the top of his head. “I’m really sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Roman said, stern but gentle in a way that didn’t send Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketing. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Virgil nodded, too tired to form another response, closing his eyes and letting Roman take them back to his room. For the first time all week, Virgil found himself looking forward to what tomorrow held.

[nugnthopkns]

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence. 

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something. 

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place. 

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more. 

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy. 

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain. 

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus. 

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over. 

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at. 

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why. 

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck. 

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste. 

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault. 

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize. 

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals. 

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things. 

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting. 

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person. 

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe. 

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better. 

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water. 

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands. 

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats. 

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program. 

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating. 

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack. 

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you. 

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked. 

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything. 

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home. 

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days. 

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice. 

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs. 

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts. 

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes. 

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly. 

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight. 

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat. 

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment. 

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching. 

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode. 

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.” 

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself. 

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase. 

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting. 

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble. 

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.” 

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed. 

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to. 

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home. 

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate. 

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year. 

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters. 

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone. 

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask. 

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat. 

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches. 

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors. 

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates. 

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time. 

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score. 

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended. 

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him. 

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah. 

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head. 

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel. 

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up. 

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom. 

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair. 

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump. 

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip. 

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps. 

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey. 

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you. 

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake. 

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye. 

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel. 

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you. 

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before. 

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice. 

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves. 

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates. 

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet. 

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone. 

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd. 

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals. 

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features. 

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda. 

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point. 

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

 It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase. 

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him. 

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months. 

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received. 

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper. 

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about. 

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list. 

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship. 

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them. 

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights. 

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.  

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop. 

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.” 

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience. 

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around. 

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door. 

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles. 

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years. 

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut. 

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?” 

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall. 

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?” 

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is. 

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete. 

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly. 

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction. 

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well. 

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much. 

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal. 

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror. 

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger. 

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates. 

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch. 

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city. 

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile. 

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift. 

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible. 

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable. 

“Good morning,” he repeats. 

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities. 

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off. 

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals. 

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine. 

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep. 

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front. 

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly. 

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay. 

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse. 

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.” 

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you. 

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself. 

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms. 

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot. 

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down. 

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help. 

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there. 

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater. 

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain. 

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength. 

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. 

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again. 

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink. 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @boqvistsbabe​ @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[blindbeta]

Something I frequently see in atla fanfic is Toph rolling her eyes and other characters being surprised she can do that. (“Who taught her that?” Is a very common sentence.) I wonder if this is realistic? Obviously, with some forms of blindness, rolling your eyes is no problem. But would Toph, blind from birth, be able to roll her eyes? I’m sorry if this question is hyper-specific. I see this trope in at least half of all fics with Toph in them. (Thanks for your amazing blog and all you do.)

I welcome hyper-specific questions here! Especially about A:TLA and Toph, where fandom is both a nice break from ableism and a very ableist place.

With the resurgence of Avatar, there were an agonizing amount of comments like this online. Although they were more about how unrealistic it was for Toph to have facial expressions, how the animators messed up by having her eyes move, etc. The “Who taught her that?” trope about eye-rolling is simply another manifestation of that.

It is hard to explain my frustration with questions like these, even if no offense is meant. These questions bother me partly because they assume certain things that make it clear they have never met a blind person, nor bothered to research before commenting, endlessly, on what is or is not possible for blind people.

Also, as I explained in this post about myths, even the ignorance behind expectations like these can be harmful. In assuming Toph cannot have facial expressions, a blind person who makes expressions or gestures may be assumed to be faking. This puts a lot of stress on a blind person, who may be refused help, harassed, or even attacked. Plus they are just annoying. In this post, I go over how some of these assumptions carry over into jokes, something the Avatar fandom is also not exempt from.

Jokes are fine. Questions even more so. As long as someone is genuinely asking and not coming from a bad place. For example: “I wonder how Toph learned to make facial expressions as a blind baby” is easier to answer than “OMG Avatar is so unrealistic and ridiculous because Toph, a blind girl, makes the same kinds of expressions as the other characters!”

Facial expressions are instinctual and innate. There are basic expressions that many people can make and understand — with some exceptions — which have evolutionary implications. For example, making a face of disgust could have indicated that something was poisonous. A face of fear could have alerted others to danger. Eye rolling is not quite so useful or ancient, but it has been referenced in older literature as a way to express contempt or rejection.

I would put eye rolling in with the gestures category. By this I mean research shows blind people gesture just like others who speak the same language. Because gestures are culturally specific, they can differ depending on language. Even people who were blind since birth gesture the same way others do. Eye rolling is not much different. No one would need to teach Toph how to roll her eyes, although she probably would have heard about it verbally eventually as she aged, such as when Azula teased her by saying, “And since you can’t see, I should tell you I’m rolling my eyes.”

So the “Who taught her that?” question is not very realistic as far as I’m concerned.

I will say that sometimes people have rapid eye movement and difficulty controlling the muscles in their eyes. Before I had surgery, I would have uncontrollable eye movements in one eye and since I couldn’t see my own eye, I have no idea if rolling my eyes actually looked like it is supposed to. And because I can’t see other people very well, I’m not sure if I’m the best person to give details about this.

But the real issue behind the other characters being surprised Toph can roll her eyes isn’t so much about the ability to do so, so much as just knowing about it. Again, the same question comes up about facial expressions and gestures.

I also want to clarify that the ableism in the Avatar fandom isn’t really about mean words or even rude assumptions. It is the attitudes and beliefs behind these questions. It is a rudimentary understanding of ableism that causes people to claim Katara is ableist so they can hate her, while similtaneously complaining that Katara and Zuko talk about their trauma too much. While simultaneously sharing art and GIFs and videos of Toph without image descriptions. While saying very little about the show’s lack of audio descriptions when it was added to Netflix initially, or even assuming blind people couldn’t or wouldn’t watch the show at all. Not because of a lack of accessibility, but because people simply assume we don’t like television or films.

If you think about these attitudes and beliefs, you start to notice a pattern. One that isn’t only in the Avatar fandom, but it is made all the more frustrating because the show has a popular blind character in it. You would think people would be interested in learning about blindness, but the overwhelming love for Toph sometimes comes across as exploitive without this interest.

That said. Toph is one of my favorite characters and I love that the fandom loves her too. I love fanfics with her in them. I don’t blame one person for not adding an image description to their art, because image descriptions are not as normalized as they should be, and were certainly not normalized years ago. When I talk about ableism in the Avatar fandom, I don’t mean any one person. I mean the wider problem as a whole that has been going on for over a decade. I mean people who have “ableism” in their vocabulary and yet don’t change their ways when someone gently asks them to. Ableism is in our society and fandom, especially those with blind characters, are no exception, despite whatever hopes I might have.

There are absolutely wonderful people in the Avatar fandom. The fandom is improving on reblogging things with image descriptions or adding their own to older posts, especially art of Toph. While I sometimes feel things are stagnant, there are people like you, anon, asking the good questions. I appreciate you and anyone else who is doing the work to learn and also for supporting this blog. While I have some problems with the fandom, there are wonderful people here and progress is being made every day.

If you want help writing Toph, @mimzy-writing-online has an excellent post with advice. I highly recommend fanfic writers read it for a richer story.

So that’s my wishy-washy Avatar post with some slight education thrown in. Thanks for the question, anon!

If any blind people want to chime in about this, feel free.

I hope this helped some.

-BlindBeta

[ravysu]

Sannin headcanons and thoughts

The last thing I would like to post for the sannin week. It is still 24.04 here! :D @sannin-central

This is long. Spoiler alert. Mostly Orochimaru, some Tsunade, a little of Jiraiya (because his story is pretty clear and spoken and idk what I can add). Also I recommend to read this meta about Orochimaru, it has influenced me a lot and has some good points. Sorry for any posible grammar mistakes. Also I really should put here a lot of references to the manga or anime but it was something that was piling up for a year and I'm soooooooo lazy. After all, those are just headcanons. Also: Im not excusing Oro's bad stuff here, Im trying to understand the reasons.

Ive already posted some hcs, here, here and here.

1. First if all, the chronology pic of sannin lifetime based on the info i found on naruto wiki and also some statements about wars from this post. It was tough considering what a mess naruto’s chronology is.

2. Sannin story shows what it cost to be a legend. They're like Team 7 but more realistic. Tsunade literally carried the war but left with nothing and developed a ptsd and have problems to just live on. Also anger control issues. I think she can be pretty bossy and stubborn which is not always nice. Jiraiya is the hero of the day but also very idealistic and can ignore some important details in the real word whether its the fight (he always injured during flashbacks maybe because each time he took too much to handle and on the one hand it's heroistic but on the other is a mistake that can lead your team to situations like in that Iwa cave) or your friends issues (I bet he saw what's going on but thought it's fine until Oro actually got red handed and left). He lives in his world and may have problems to get out to see it through someone else's shoes. As for Orochimaru, it seems like he was a normal guy for 20+ years (I mean, he didn't do crazy criminal shit and had something good in him and it was stated somewhere that it was his teammates influence. It is obvious they considered him as a friend, I don't thinks it was for nothing) but we mostly know his darkest side. Despite being a moster he is a human that have empathy and some ordinary human traits (man just decorates every bit of an environment he is in lol).

3. Tsunade was the leader of team Hiruzen.

4. Tsunade sometimes hit Jiraiya for some stupid things he did or said but never touches Orochimaru even if he did something same. Jiraiya complained about it once and almost got another hit.

5. Jiraiya had problematic parents that didn't care about him much and a lot of time he was wandering in the streets.

6. Judging by the look of Oro bangs and hair, he sometimes cut it off. A stress relief huh? And the fact that he doesn't do it now in Boruto..

7. It was shown that Tsunade and Orochimaru was acknowledged before they become a team. Maybe they did just before, or maybe some longer time before. I prefer the second option and hc that they met because both had no real friends - Orochimaru seemed weird and scary for everyone and Tsunade was Senju so everyone wanted to hang out with her but didn't really care. They weren't seen as what they were - people put the labels on them. But they didn't care about each other's labels and actually saw each other in true lights.

8. Tsunade knew it was an accident and it's not right but still she blamed Orochimaru for Nawaki's death for some time. It was something that seriously damaged their friendship and the team. Orochimaru was mad but also guilty, after all, he was responsible at least as a shinobi since Nawaki was under his watch. So he started to act cold and emotionless and was trying to distance himself from his teammates.

9. Jiraiya was in Ame while Dan died.

10. The whole his orphans mission was a bit irresponsible tbh. They already fought Hanzo and as he stated the conflict between Konoha and Ame is going to an end with Konoha's win. It's weird to stay here for three years in the middle of the war while there were other lands to fight. He left his teammates for some idea. Maybe that caused another crack in their team friendship.

11. If Tsunade would have find a way to live on with her trauma and follow the will of fire and stuff it would affect Orochimaru as well just as her grief affected him. It's like he would get an example that you can live on with this pain. So death isn't above human capability and we are not just the slaves of mortality (sounds stupid but i dont know how else to describe sorry). But as we know what he actually saw is that it broke her crucially to the point she couldnt be herself again. And so the death is above everything.

12. Oro wasn’t just acting as a cold pragmatic bitch in that cave but also tried to save Tsunade. Jiraiya knew it and that’s why he showed this sign to him like "I see what youre doing here" and that stunned Oro because he would prefer to look rather like a cold pragmatic bitch hehe

13. Just a thought. People in the village probably treated Oro as a foreigner or just wouldnt accept him because he looked so differently and had a weird attitude. That's why he sometimes didn't feel that Konoha is his home. After the wars where people were treated as means and tools, even the children, he himself developed this view on people - he dehumanized them and used as the means to his goals, just as his village did. Funny thing some people were straightly dehumanizing him too like Ibiki thought that he was a demon (tho he was a child). And he probably weren't the only one. Anyways the point is that it's logical that Orochimaru don't care about anybody but some few people, he's the product of his era. He's like Naruto that would chose the hatred way. But naruto had some good and understanding people around him and.. Orochimaru had them too, but match how Iruka treated Naruto and this Hiruzen's "I sAw tHe mAliCe in This cHiLd fRoM tHe BegGinNinG". And oro didn't even have a big ass evil fox in him. sry i hate hiruzen

ANYWAYS the moral of the story is not "go criminal if they hurt you" but always treat people like people. Waving my hand to Kant.

14. The reason why Orochimaru didn't pick some good morals to stick with through the hard times no matter what (like, idk, Jiraiya or Naruto) is because 1) I think he is/was pretty depending on people around him 2) the war fucked him and his friends up too much (Nawaki incident + Tsunade) 3) twisted addictions (though I don't think he's that sadistic, we never saw him torturing randoms just for fun, it was always some science experimental shit. He tends to get fun out of cruelty only when it's personal) that maybe developed as a way to sublimate anger and sadness caused by his parents loss (that's what they share with sasuke - unlicke naruto, they knew their parents and it's other kind of pain. Sasuke developed a revenge issue and Orochimaru - cruelty pleasure which... is kinda the same but less epic and more occasional lol).

15. Speaking of that, Orochimaru cared for Sasuke because he saw himself in him.

16. Oro hold grudges against Hiruzen for not choosing him to be Hokage not only because he was ambitious and/or egoistic, but also because Hiruzen was some kind of a father figure for him and his approval was important tho i doubt he was aware of that. He also probably could tell that Hiruzen was suspicios about him when he was a child and that led to many conflicts and was hurting as well.

17. Tsunade knew things weren't pretty with Orochimaru after the wars but she never expected them to be this bad. During the week that she was given in her arc she thought not only about how much she wants to see Nawaki and Dan again despite how wrong would it be but also was trying to bury all the good memories she had left of Orochimaru so it would be easier to kill him.

18. She poisoned Jiraiya exactly because she knew he would not let her do it. Jiraiya was always hesitant to kill and inclined to forgiveness, while Tsunade, as mentioned by Orochimaru, could be merciless (so much so that he was not surprised when Kabuto suggested that she wanted to use Jira for Edo Tensei).

19. That was one of her traits that scared Jiraiya and fascinated Orochimaru.

20. Remember how Oro grabbed Jiraiya's neck when the latter was trying to cover with hair jutsu? On the snake, in Tsnade's arc. Orochimaru could have easily kill Jiraiya by pulling the sword out of the mouth (arteries are right there) but he didn't. As well as he could kill Tsunade when she was still shaking - just aim for the neck or the heart. Instead, he just injured her lung and kicked her which is not a big deal for the kind of shinoby like her at all.. Also he helped Anko not accidentally kill herself but it would be way much profitable to let her do it. "Orochimaru has no feelings".

21. The reason he suddenly wanted to kill Tsunade instead of forcing her to heal his arms as it was planned (which is weird since it will not going to get him heals and he kinda said that he wouldn't want to kill her just minutes ago) is that not only she refused to help him (he thought he could work it out) but she also prefered the village over him (from his point of view). Out if everyone she was the closest to being able to understand him since the village caused her painful losses too but nevertheless she agreed to be on it's side.

22. He wasn't fighting her back in the end partly because he thought he deserved that. Somewhere deep inside hahah.

23. Tsunade got a fear to develop deep bonds so they probably weren't very close with Shizune (also the way she knocked her down in this hotel.. oh).

24. Orochimaru will be here when she'll die.

25. Orochimaru's eng dub to Tsunade: "I often wondered what it would be like to ring that pretty neck yours". No comments.

26. Orochimaru is either bi/pan or ace. Anything or nothing lmao

27. Hiruzen knew about at least some of the Oro’s illegal experiments and was okay just as he was okay with the Foundation all the time. Because it’s useful. Then he has discovered he went too far OR he knew everything and oro just became too inconvenient because of his methods. The way Orochimaru tells Sasuke about reasons they are well treated as the criminals is based on in his experience with Hiruzen.

28. As you may know the lyrics in Orochimaru’s music theme goes “don’t talk with the silence of the heart”. It was taken from one Indian song that also had lines like “don’t question life too much”, ”pain arose somewhere in the chest”, “don’t speak to the wounds of the heart”. Though I’m not sure 100% because I was translating it with some hindi dictionary with like zero knowledge of hindi

29. I like to think that this “silence of the heart” theme and the fact that he called his village a hidden sound village are somehow connected. The hidden sound is the possible explanation of all things waiting to be listened to but the truth is silent and you know it deep in your heart and it bothers you. The world is silent just like the life is meaningless but people can only hear. *Sigh* anyways

30. Orochimaru’s journey is the one about accepting death. When he saw Karin released her chains while was trying to get to Sasuke he understood that the death is a part of human’s strength.

Can’t wait to feel that everything I wrote is wrong or not enough or stupid and obvious lol. Anyways, it’s something that I wanted to share until I move to some other fandom.