#Where it's just so fucking common acceptable and encouraged to use language and talk about people

[asingingpenguin]

I am going to scream. Please make other clinicians stop insisting clients use person first language with themselves.

[adickaboutspoons]

Tea Soup and Sympathy

There’s already been plenty going around fandom about the significance of soup this season, so I’ll just condense soup discourse down and summarize that it’s about love and nourishment. But sometimes, soup is not real soup.

When we first meet Zheng Yi Sao, she is posing as Susan the Soup Merchant. But before the end of the episode, it’s revealed that her soup-slinging ways are all artifice.

And just as soup is love, this Yi Sao’s soup-slinging pretense is indicative of the fact that she uses the semblance of sympathy to manipulate people to her own ends. Let’s look at the case study of her interaction with John Bartholomew: Having successfully sacked his ship, she gets news that he wants to shoot himself, but only with the captain that bested him watching. Yi Sao attends the cabin of of the clearly panicking John with Stede and Olu in tow, and lets John show his ass with his inground racist and misogynistic assumptions; with him first identifying the white guy as the captain, then the MOC, and finally the WOC. In spite of the insult, Yi Sao meets him with the contrivance of compassion to give validation his heightened emotionally volatile state, acknowledgement of the cultural assumptions that are making this a particularly difficult defeat for him to accept, but also plays INTO his misogyny by suggesting that if he follows through with killing himself that his final deed in life with be the (implicitly shameful) act of surrendering to a woman.

Once she has gotten him to a place where he feels like someone is listening to him AND understanding where he’s coming from, and shamed out of taking his own life, she applies the social lubricant to foster that warm, fuzzy feeling of camaraderie by suggesting they have drinks.

Pay close attention to the language she’s using when she’s talking John around. After John complains that he’s just trying to feed his crew, and maybe make a little extra money on the side, Yi Sao jumps in with more affirming statements to demonstrate that she understands and appreciates the obstacles he’s facing in obtaining his goals, and concludes with a restatement of his thesis:

“Sure, but they won’t let you. The Spanish, the Dutch, the fucking English! Everyone is cracking down on the little guy! Like, hello! How’s a pirate supposed to make a living?”

Having established that she understands where he’s coming from, she starts the bridge-building portion of her agenda; inviting him to identify with her because of common interests, but simultaneously downplaying her authority, AND using a rhetorical question to which he can easily agree in order to prime him to continue agreeing with her further down the line:

“I don’t speak for everyone, but I didn’t get into this business to fight other pirates, did you?”

She’s also using neurolinguistic programming: all the while that she’s talking to him, she’s reaching her hand out to him - a gesture that mimics the way she is metaphorically reaching out to him, and inviting him to reach back. She then floats a hypothetical that ALSO is easy to say “yes” to, but posing it as a question rather than an order to encourage him to buy into the idea rather than just submit to it:

“What if we could all work together, support each other?”

From here, she plays coy - feigning reticence to float an idea as though it’s TOO audacious, and employing a little false modesty, suggesting her idea is stupid, to not only, once again, play into John’s misogynistic zeitgeist, but to allow him to feel that, when she DOES give voice to her ultimate plan, he can feel like HE won one over on HER by enticing it out of her.

“I don’t know… be, um…Oh! Forget it! It’s stupid. What if… What if we could be partners?”

And that, ladies, gentlemen, and those betwixt and beyond, is how you get someone to cheerfully buy into their own subjugation in the coming invasion.

And make no mistake - invading and conquering the Caribbean IS what Yi Sao is after. She's not looking for partners - she's looking for subordinates. She’s very clear about that with Stede back aboard the Red Flag.

Her soupy subterfuge in the Republic of Pirates was a reconnaissance mission to scope and get info on the local talent in order to try and get them to either join her or die. But she’s not picky either way. Her red flag fleet is already making its way over land at the isthmus of Panama. This IS going to happen. So are you on-board or not?

“Okay,” I hear you say (or not. I don’t know you well enough to put words in your mouth), “but she’s really nice to her crew, providing them with gentle exercise and kind words and soup that, according to all the Caribbean pirates who taste it, is so good it might be the best thing they’ve ever tasted. What makes you think it’s manipulation and artifice, and not the real thing. Maybe she’s just actually compassionate, but her compassion has its limits - the proverbial iron fist in a velvet glove, as it were?”

Because we’ve already seen this behavior before. Using alcohol to lower inhibitions, using both shame and sympathy to motivate participation, using neurolinguistic programming to let the other party think that THEY’RE the one driving the action, and even being calculatedly withholding to make people think they’ve won something when they extract it from you:

That’s right. It’s Calico Jack, the master manipulator (RIP, asshole) all over again. But whereas Jack leaned further on the typically masculine end of the shame-to-sympathy scale with bullying and establishing himself as a subject matter expert, Yi Sao is coming at it from a decidedly more typically feminine place, encouraging self-identification and downplaying her strengths and contributions. But Yi Sao also ups the game transforming into what the other person needs her to be to close the deal. With Jackie the bossbitch businesswoman, Yi Sao is the Money Bitch. With John Bartholomew the prototypical pirate drowning in toxic masculinity, she’s a feminine fount of sympathy and understanding who, gosh, just CAN’T be sure that her silly little ideas are any good unless a big, strong man affirms that for her. And with Stede, she’s a girl-friend who has BEEN THERE and wants to dish about his toxic ex and all the complicated feelings about that.

So when we hear:

It should immediately throw red flags, both for us AND Stede. He was THERE when she used this voice with John Bartholomew. There might not be any liquor, but she KNOWS that Stede has said that he encourages this kind of “talking it through” behavior, so she doesn’t need to get him to buy into it first. Instead, she launches directly into the same kind of tactics she employed before. She hears Stede say “[The crew] couldn’t keep living like that. Ed can be quite troubled.” Out come the affirming statements to demonstrate that she understands where he’s coming from, and restatement of his thesis: “You must feel so weird. Like you’re glad he’s alive, but then he did all this evil shit to your friends?”

Then on to bridge-building (literally and figuratively - look how she reaches out to clasp him on the shoulder) to invite identifying with her: “I’ve dated my fair share of guys on ‘Wanted’ posters.They’re hot.”

She doesn’t bother with downplaying her authority, because Stede has just confessed to being a novice in terms of romance, but she is so calculated with her wording, floating a scenario that invites Stede to come up with a solution for: “But it always ends in a massacre and then the wrong people get hurt.”

So when she “caves” to his suggestion of “Maybe we could avoid that happening here?” with “I AM feeling a little merciful today,” it begs the question:

What, exactly, was going to be the price of this “mercy” if Auntie hadn’t interrupted?

So Roach isn’t wrong when he praises the soup they get aboard the Red Flag as “Beautiful, complicated, and balanced.” It IS a complicated act, an artfully balanced deception, and beautiful in its artifice. It HAS to look better and more enticing than the real thing. Because it will never give you the actual nourishment you need.

[adamsvanrhijn]

do you have any advice for writing period dialogue? i always think your fics sound so much like the characters and idk how to do it. i'm fine with the prose part, but as soon as a character opens their mouth i feel like they sound like they've got a smart phone and a twitter account.

well thank you first of all!! i'm not sure how helpful i can be but i will say what works for me :'-)

i would say i think the thing to focus on first is not if you're creating dialogue that is true to the period, but that is true to the character

that is more important to me than linguistic historical accuracy, which is generally not actually attainable but can be fun to try for, and it is the starting point for diving into "hey how did they use this word or phrase or sentence structure in the 1920s (or whenever)" - does it sound like that guy? if yes, but you're not sure it sounds right to That Guy's era, proceed to etymology online or whatever and fuck around until you get something you like

getting acquainted with your character's voice comes from reading/watching and rereading/rewatching your source material. I also have spreadsheets for my shows with all of the dialogue so that i can easily go find something and double check if something feels right or doesn't feel right which is maybe autism behavior

but while the source material imo should always be Home, it can only get you so far - when you aim to replicate how a character speaks, it is helpful to understand how they Don't speak, which you get from exposure to other writing and developing an understanding of the language in question if not language in general

my linguistics background is helpful because i have a mental framework for parts and structure of language, so i can recognize things in a character's speech patterns, which makes me more aware of them, and i know What i am trying to replicate and the linguistic environment i expect it to be in, rather than just trying to get at it without actually knowing what it is. this also then helps me extrapolate to things the character never said but that i want them to say in my fanfiction.

example. there are like three minimum variants of english in play in any given episode of downton abbey. but there is no downton abbey character who exhibits every single feature associated with, say, northern [england] english, because that is a very broad group of language variants, and it is conspicuous to me when i see fanfic where a character is using language that is typical of northern english but Not of the character. so having that understanding of the building blocks of language helps me avoid, like, what i see as almost a shortcut of trying to get character voice correct but that can actually put you further from where you want to be

that said. obviously not everyone can get a linguistics degree lol so i don't think that's helpful. though i would encourage anyone who wants to find new ways to match up today language with past language to do a little bit of looking into functional grammar. but i think the general advice is to pay attention to how your characters talk and think about how/when they say what they do and where that might change in canon.

and of course, this is a really methodical approach because i am a very methodical writer, and it is an approach i have developed over many years of writing, and not everyone jives with that and the best method for you might be different - but i do think this is how i think about it !!

oh i also spend a LOT of time with a thesaurus... i try to make sure i'm considering words i don't tend to use because they might be more true to the character than the one my mind goes to for the meaning

and to add on to that, sometimes characters use words that mean things to mean something a word generally does not mean, or more commonly will use a variant of a common phrase that is not my preference and so i try to accept this with an open heart and not change it to what my brain wants it to be. see thomas "could care less" barrow. i usually instinctively write it the other way and then have to go back and change it!!

[imjustabeanie]

hello! hope your day is going well :)! i would like to ask for a romantic hazbin hotel matchup please! i am AFAB gender-fluid masculine leaning and im pan and polyamorus (i am fine with monogamous relationships) and i use all pronouns! i am fine with any character of any gender and i am fine with multiple characters. 

I am tall, around 6ft and i have a chubby build. i have some scars from self harm, but i’m mentally healthy now. 

i don’t really have a type for the kind of people i like, i’m very open. i have a very strong sense of justice/right and wrong and i try my best to do what’s right. i am often selfless but that contradicts how i act/behave, i act very riled up and reckless but i do truly care for others. i have schizophrenia so that often affects how i see things and act. i have a lot of hallucinations and delusions but i’m usually quite self aware. i have a hard time accepting reality for what it is, i need someone to help ground me and be ok with being here. i am also autistic, i have a lot of hyperfixations and special interests, but my favorites are toy collecting, specifically stuff like my little pony and littlest pet shop and stuff like that and i also really like clowns, they make me very happy. i like doing things that remind me of my childhood. i really like talking with friends and such, i can talk for HOURS about so much shit, i like having someone to match my energy. i love rambling about my favorite things and interests but i am also very willing to listen to others! i have been told i have very good input and advice in nearly all situations, i have a lot of clarity when it comes to how i view things. my MBTI is ISTP, but i’ve been told i often act like a ENTP. i really like keeping myself busy with a bunch of different fun things to do, if i do nothing for too long i get anxious and depressed, i need frequent mental stimulation. i really like drawing and writing and i’ve been getting into making music. 

i dress really comfy and i look like i just rolled out of bed always 😭 my favorite things to wear are worn out oversized hoodies and shirts with characters and stuff on them and comfy pj pants with cute designs and characters on them. i don’t take the best care of myself physically but i think i’ve been getting better. my room is SUPER fucking messy, like so messy every step you take you hear a crinkling of a water bottle and keep tripping on random items 😭 i need someone to help motivate me to clean it lmao.

i am often very chaotic but i mean well, i’m very energetic at times and i love joking about things like eating people, i kind of like being threatening. 

i love showing people i care by doing things for them and just spending time with them, i like being in their presence. my favorite acts to receive are gifts and acts of service, it makes me very happy!

i don’t really understand how other people work, kind of like i’m an outsider, i like studying them and overall being around them.

i LOVE sleeping, i can sleep 12+ hours easy, it’s my favorite part of the day JSJSJDJF

thank you :3!!

Your Hazbin Hotel match is....Vaggie and Charlie!

You and Charlie have so much in common, you two always encourage each other. And just like Charlie you need a Vaggie to ground you to earth (hell?) Fun fact, all people I match with Charlie had be hesitating with Vaggie and vice versa.

Your love language is something both of them need. Charlie love language is words and acts of service while Vaggie love language is acts of service. You three always help out each other and do your best so the other two are happy. This creates a healthy and fun dynamic. It even has its own funny moments where one of you try to plan a surprise only to see her lover (s) doing the same. It's a goofy yet loving relationship. Vaggie, despite her rough and serious character completely melts when you and Charlie are nearby. She's your scary dog privilege (Charlie is actually the dangerous one but shhh) which is nice with how reckless you and Charlie can be.

A common trait in the three of you is your sense of justice. I mean...you know the plot of hazbin hotel so it's a glaring fact here. You always consult with each other before making a decision.The girls are your safe space, they always make sure you're happy and comfortable in every situation. Each night you three cuddle and talk about your day. You and Charlie often engage in nostalgic conversations and compare your childhood under the loving gaze of Vaggie.

Hope you liked it! Sorry for the long wait.

[chanandlersstuff]

Summer isn't the only thing that breaks

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader.

Summary: Sometimes loving the other person it's not enough.

Word count: 2.545.

Author’s note: I don't take charge or pay psychologists for what you may feel reading this. I was in my feelings and needed to write something to get all out of my system. English is my second language so sorry for the misspellings. Sorry if the title doesnt make sence but its the only things that comes to my mind.

Part two

You were walking through the airport suitcase in one hand and phone in the other. His number appears on the screen and a smile on your lips. His raspy voice telling you that he was waiting for you in the parking lot, just like you agree, even without seeing him you can sense his smile while he was talking. You hop on the passenger seat and he didn't let you close the door that he was already kissing you like his life deppen of it. His hands on your neck bringing you imposible close to him.

-Hi to you too.- Your voice sounds happy and your eyes close in case this was a dream, again.

-I miss you so fucking much.- Your breath mixing with each other and your noses touching.

-Me too, Charles.- No pet names were needed, that was the deal.

-Come on, the summer break await for us.- A little peck on your lips and the car was moving.

The ride to your destination was full of low music, your hand in his while Charles was driving and now and then he leaves kisses in your knuckles. No work related talk, it was too painful that way. In a moment of your relationship, even when you were friends, the two of us could talk about everything. Even a look could say all that was on your mind and the other would knew exactly what to do.

You two met so many years ago that you lost count. The chemistry was undeniable, the same silly jokes and pranks, the way you move in sync when you were together and even when you weren't together but in the same place, the fond smiles and shiny eyes. It was a matter of time for you two to end up together, or a matter of putting everything on the table. Either way you confess your love for each other the same day, even in that you were connected.

The memories bring a bittersweet smile to your face. In another time those exact memories would make you the most happy person on the planet but right now, after all those years, it didn't. From the corner of his eye Charles could see you and he could bet he knew what was on your mind, because of the look on your face. Because he had the same look when he thought of the two of you.

Everyone knows that you two love each other. Your familys, your common friends and the ones that were not common, even his fans kwen it. But sometimes love isn't enough, sometimes loving the other person so much that it doesn't fit in your body isn't enough. A whole year of relationship where you only saw him in his summer break, in his home grand prix and two other races where it. That was how long the relationship lasted.

You try to make those memories leave your head and live the moment. Your hand in his, Levitating from Dua Lipa playing in the background, your head moving side to side in sync to the rhythm of the song, his hair moving thanks to the breeze and the summer in the air. It was he and you for a couple of weeks. Nothing else, nothing more. You tell yourself that everything was going to be alright.

The first days were amazing, like always. Traveling from here to there in Europe, days with his family that love you like you were their own, nights with your mutual friends clubbing and having the time of your lifes. Dancing glue to each other, drunk kisses and hot sex all night in every sourfaces that you were capable making up for all those days that you weren’t in his arms.

His mum love you, love both of you and was the first one to be over the moon when you were together, but also was the first one to knew that this agreement or this kind of relationship, if you could call it like that, wasn't healthy and it will end bad.

Maybe it was that the two of you were growing up, becoming more mature persons or maybe you were more nostalgic than normal. But seeing him driving the boat with that bandana in his head, that one time it was yours, made you walk down memory lane and end up on the day that the two of you called it quits.

Your relationship was based on constant facetimes, calls and that was it. It was like you were 13 again and it was a virtual boyfriend. His busy schedule and your first year in the job of your dreams didn't let you see him often. You knew he needed someone that was free to be with him travelling the world, encouraging him, giving him a shoulder to cry in his bad days and to be there applauding him in his best days. In a few words he needed someone that was capable of being there for him all the way in his career, not on the other side of the word in a 4 walls office 24/7. You knew that person he needed wasn't you. But the blame, if there was someone to blame, wasn't all yours. Charles also knew that you need someone to be there for you when the days in the office weren't the best, when you arrive at your house exhausted and not on the other side of the phone, traveling across the world, when you cried your eyes out from stress. When you belittle yourself thinking you weren't enough and capable for your job. He knew that you deserved some better, someone who could be there for you.

When the words “I think that we should take a time apart.” were said and the other nodded . When the moment was so fucking sad, so fucking heart breaking, because the two of you came to the same conclusion. Sad tears running in your faces and salty kisses. A whole day to make the mourning of the love that wasn't enough holding each other in your arms agreeing to be friends and love each other no matter what. Only to find you in his sheets a couple of months later agreeing to be together only in the summer break and love you all those days and when the summer ends the two of you would go to their worlds with the memories of the summer. Because the thought of not being together at all hurt much more than being together only a season of the year.

A little peck on your lips brought you back to the present and his smiley face melted your heart. Out of impulse you cup his face and kiss him love and tenderly. From outside that scene appear to be two people who love the other wholeheartedly and were happy and it was true but at the same time you were two persons who had to accept the fact to love the other only in summer time.

Charles knew you were a clingy person when the two of you were alone, but not in public. So it came to his surprise that you were holding his hand all the time and stolen kisses here and there but he didn't complain about it. Moreover he was happy and a little sparkle ignite in his interior.

Days pass like leaves falling from trees in autumn. One day he took you for a ride on his bike, because he knew how much you like it, and to have a picnic to see the sunset. Cute date nights and walks on the beach. Breakfast in bed and coffee spilled on the white sheets thanks to a hot kissing session that ends in sex. Everything was like a fairytale but those only exist in books and movies. Real life hurts like hell and not everything could be like we want.

You made up your mind two days before when you woke up and his arms were hugging your naked body to his firm chest. You couldn't put it into words the feeling that ran through your body and that was when you knew what you had to do. This day was the last one before you had to leave for the real one, it was always bittersweet.

For some reason Charles woke up feeling the most lucky man in the world, he was happy. Walking from here to there in the yacht humming songs and loving the way the sun kisses his skin. A complete breakfast on the table and kisses all over your face to wake up. Sex before and after breakfast, swimming in the cristal water and photos of the other in their galleries that would never leave your phones. You walk around with your hair wet in his favorite t-shirt and a red bandana in your ankle, nothing else nothing more.

After lunch you were sleeping in the front of the yacht with that red bikini that made him lose his mind and he was by your side. His legs flexed, his arm in your waist and his face hid in your neck. Your legs on top of his, your arms on top of his and your head lean on his. The two of you were like a puzzle that fit perfectly, but that didn't mean anything. Hour passes and you wake up, his left hand in your boob and yours on top of it, his face in your chest and your legs tangled. His face is clear of concern, smooth features a little sunburned, and you run your fingers tracing paths with his moles. The same feeling of two days ago appeared again and the only thing you could do was swallow the lump in your throat.

Charles seems to wake up and get you closer to his body, so close that you end up on top of him. Talking in his native language and raspy voice almost made you break into tears. He senses it and looks at you concern. -Il y a un problème, ma belle?

You shake your head with your eyes closed. -Don’t do that Charles, no pet names. We promise.- If you were with your eyes oppended you could see how he rolled his.

-Tell me what's wrong, please.- His seat up with you on his lap. His hands on your back and your chest close. The worry in his voice breaks your heart.

-We can't keep doing this. It's breaking us inside. Is breaking me inside.- Your words make him move away and frown his brows.

-What are you talking about?- You tried to get up from his lap and he grabbed your waist so you stayed still. -Don't do this for a second time, please.

-You need to let me go emotionally and physically, Charles.- He put his hands up and you started walking around, something you do when you are nervous.

-Why?- His eyes burning your figure.

-Because it's the healthiest thing to do. We can't keep doing this to each other. We can't keep fooling ourselves and you know it. You mean everything to me but I can't keep doing this. Every time I leave you after summer, I rip my heart out and I don't think I can keep suffering it.- Your eyes full of tears and your hands shaking a little.

-You think that it's easy for me? That all this it's easy?- You shake your head. -It 's not! Sometimes I dream about us and it seems so real, and when I fucking wake up I see the harsh reality THAT I DONT HAVE YOU COMPLETLY.- He was standing up and looking at you with red eyes.

-That is what I’m saying. Don't you see? This fucking situation is killing us. I know what you want from me and you know what I want from you but wanting something and having something it's not the same thing.- He looks at you without saying anything.

-Do you still love me?- You almost laugh at his question.

-How could you ask me that?- Charles looked at you in disbelieve.

-Because you are standing there, breaking my heart all over again that's why I’m asking you that.- You were trying so hard not to cry.

-Of course I still love you, just like the first day. But sometimes that's not enough. We agreed something years ago hoping that that way it didn't hurt that much but the only thing we agreed on was to prolong the heart break and make it bigger.- You took little steps towards him.

-I know you are right but don't want you out of my life. I dont think I’m capable of that.- His voice was so low and the look in his eyes was like a lost puppy.

-Its for the best Charles. I don't want to keep hurting you and me. It's not fair that we can only love each other for a couple of days out of 365 days a year.

-There’s nothing we can do?- His and your eyes were full of tears and his words broke you and seeing you cry made him cry.

-I won't let you give up your career to be with me and you won't let me give up my career to be with you. We love each other that much and we are fools for thinking that this would end well.- He closes the gap between the two of you.

-I can't believe I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Will you let me love you the time we have left?- Charles put his hands in your face and you nod.

The hours left of that day were spent with salty kisses, tears in each others body and sad and slow sex where not even an inch of distance could be beetween you two, your skins touching trying to became one or trying to remember the other for the rest of your lives, hands running through your bodies to remember it even with the eyes closed. You kiss his tears away and his kiss yours. The ride to the airport was in silence and fast but Charles held your hand in his glued to his chest, he was lost in his thoughts and you in yours. Getting used to the idea of not seeing or being with the other anymore, just the couple of minutes that you got together in the car and then that was it, all over again.

He parked the car, took your suitcase out and without saying anything you started walking to the airport door. He watches you walk away from his life but his brain screams to kiss you just one more time. Just like an addict, one more fix and that was it. Charles grabs your wrist and stamps a kiss on your lips like he did at the start of the summer break in his car, all those days ago, but this time it was full of sadness and love. He holds you close, but not too close. Just enough for you to count his slowing breaths, but not too much so that you’ll hear the slow cracking of his heart.

[dontcallmecarrie]

No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]

...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think. 

To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

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Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.

He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.

.

Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.

It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.

Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.

Ugh. They wanted a refund.

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...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse. 

Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.

Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.

This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.

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“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them. 

If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.

Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.

But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.

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Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.

The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.

Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him. 

Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.

She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—

Anyway.

.

His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do. 

Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.

“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.

.

...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.

In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.

This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.

Old habits die hard. 

.

Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?” 

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.

.

The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.

...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.

.

One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives. 

Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place. 

At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays. 

So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent. 

.

Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?

Ugh, they’d never understand these people. 

.

Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.

Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ‘good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.

As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.

.

Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.

Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever. 

Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability. 

Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so. 

It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder. 

It hadn’t failed him yet.

.

Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.

It was...nice, having his little sister around again. 

.

It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.

Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.

...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay? 

Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].

.

Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.

Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic. 

He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.

.

“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”

“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.

“You’re not really acting like one.”

“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”

Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.” 

.

Justin would never, ever understand these people.

.

In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds. 

Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.

.

For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.

Why.

Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?

.

“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, to be fair—”

“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”

Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

.

By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade. 

Yet...well, something weird was going on.

Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but— 

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.

No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them. 

Justin couldn’t understand it. 

For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit. 

He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise. 

Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.

Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.

.

Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.

...well, fuck.

.

“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”

.

Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector. 

Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.

Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.

.

“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.

“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”

Ugh. 

His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.

.

...and then I kinda ran out of steam.

tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].

in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets. 

[ouyangzizhensdad]

Do you think that making Chinese food is cultural appropriation? I'm white and started making some of the foods I saw in the shows I've watched since the untamed, but now I'm worried I'm appropriating the culture.

Hi anon,

As a fellow white person, I am also someone who needs to critically reflect on how I engage with different cultures. I can't give you the definitive answer you seek, the clear absolution from any potential wrongdoings; in its stead, I can only offer to share my current thought process on this topic. I’d still encourage you to seek other perspectives, and many people have written or spoken on this topic.

I believe we must first acknowledge that, on the terrain of the internet, discussions regarding cultural appropriation have reached a certain... extreme where some people view all forms of cultural exchanges as inherently suspect. They purport that so long as you stay within the bounds of ‘your’ culture, you will problematic behaviours. That perspective is inherent flawed. That is, it relies on a vision of culture as ‘bounded entities’ that exist in themselves. In reality, the ‘stuff’ that makes culture is emergent, existing only relationally, dialectically--it is a not a ‘thing’ that moves through time but an idea which is constantly negotiated and reproduced in relation to power and changing material realities to remain relevant and intelligible. The boundaries of cultural and ethnic groups are fuzzy, overlapping, and constantly being reworked and made meaningful. As an illustration, many of the food I grew up eating was influenced by ingredients and recipes immigrants brought in the 19th and 20th centuries, yet these dishes were understood as 'typically ours’. And it needs to be acknowledged that most of what is currently considered ‘white people food’ relies on ingredients that were introduced to our diet through colonialism and the violent dispossession of indigenous peoples (and, often, the current day exploitation of workers in the South and of migrant workers). No food can be truly ‘traditionally ours’, whatever the purported ‘we’ ends up being brought into the equation, and no eating behaviours can avoid the historical legacy and continuity of violence and power.

Of course, as people who exist in the world, we know that there are cultural differences. Bakhtin’s insights on language through the tensions between centripedal (ie towards uniformity, a common meaning) and centrifugal (toward diversity and change) forces can be expanded to help us conceptualise how we make sense of the way a ‘culture’ is perpetuated through time as something meaningful in our daily lives. Uniformity allows intelligibility, sense-making, but diversity and change are inescapable by-products of individuals and groups repeatedly going through life, meeting and trying to create intelligibility and sense together in a world that cannot stay the same. It is at the intersection of these two conflicting forces that something can be different yet considered the same--that we can create continuity out of change. But something perhaps less emphasized in Bakhtin’s discussions is how much power and material realities work on these forces. Power influences both centripedal and centrifugal forces, if only in orchestrating circumstances that shape how one encounters ‘different cultures’ or reproduces their 'own' culture.

We live at a moment where the world seems to have reached an apex of connectivity--where goods, people, ideas (and viruses) move across distance and borders at speeds that defy comprehension. Yet the way goods, people and ideas move (through which canals and systems? in which direction? to the benefits of whom? at the expense of whom? to what reception or use? in the service of which institutions and ideologies?) or are, inversely, incapable or unwilling to move, is influenced by power and material realities. It is inescapable.

In a roundabout way, what I’m trying to say is that it's useless to try to live life in 'your lane' by turning to a baseline 'culture' because we simply do not have a baseline culture to return to that is 'safe' from the influences of other cultures or the taint of the historical legacy and continuity of violence. So how do I personally reconcile that with how I engage with content that is produced from different cultural contexts, and how I engage with cooking food that is influenced by different cultural contexts? For me the guidelines I take into consideration are respect, attribution and avoiding forms of dehumanisation. These emerged out of witnessing how other white people have acted as well as critically reflecting on how I have acted in the past, and trying to do better (including of course, by listening to different perspectives on the topic). [just in case, warning for examples of racism/micro-agressions] I've been in China with white people who would praise the cooking we were eating in the same breath they were making jokes about dog meat. I've witnessed in Japan a dude decide not to come to an izakaya with Japanese colleagues, fucking off on his own to Akihabara instead, because he was disappointed he couldn’t talk about anime with them--too obsessed with the idealised version of Japan he’d created in his head to treat the Japanese people he met as people. The internet is full of white people telling you how to cook food from places they've never been and taking credit for 'popularising' that dish or 'making it better'. That's not even talking about the tendency for food to become a mark of a cosmopolitan, metropolitan identity in the West--the open-minded, the liberal, the traveler, the hip white person up with the times and beyond the mainstream. Hell, I've even seen people who act as if eating ‘ethnic’ food prepared by immigrants is the singular proof that they were people who cared about immigrants' well-being.

Food is rarely just about food, even when consumed at home. At the same time, we’d be remiss in all these discussions of power to dismiss how food is also one of oldest things we, as humans, want to share with others--including strangers. Feeding is nourishing and giving, eating is accepting into ourselves something made by others. Most people appreciate it when the value of a dish that holds importance for them is recognised by others--although, of course, many might understandably also resent that they have been discriminated against or mocked for eating that same food. Every time I’ve been invited in an immigrant household or at events with mostly immigrants, I’ve felt this sense of almost trepidation emanating from them, waiting for my reaction, and satisfaction once I was seen eating and appreciating the food they had served me--as if the acceptance of the food that was tied to their identity was a form of acceptance of who they were. Of course this can’t be disentangled from past experiences where other people might have been disrespectful, dismissive or outright racist: but the excitement they had in sharing food that had meaning to them and seeing others appreciate it was genuine.

Beyond situations of clear cultural sharing, where we get closer to what appears to be ‘cultural appropriation’, I believe that we cannot act as if there is something inherently sacrilegious in the idea of adapting recipes or using a specific ingredients in new ways--that’s centrifugal forces at play, and they have provided us with many dishes we love today: from immigrant creations like butter chicken to things like spicy kimchi. We cannot work with the assumption that people will only react with hostility at the idea of other people cooking the food they grew with, even in ways that are different from how they’re traditionally used and are thus “not authentic”. I still remember an interaction I had in a Korean grocery store, once upon a time when I lived in a metropolitan city. A man in front of me at the cash register who had been buying snacks and chatting with the employee in Korean looked at my stuff and suddenly asked me if I knew the name of the leafy green I was buying. I wasn’t necessarily surprised because I had overheard in the past customers and employees commenting in Korean about being surprised about the ingredients I, a white person, was purchasing, thinking I couldn’t understand them. I confirmed to him that I knew I was buying mustard greens. He then asked me what I was planning to do with them, and I explained that while I didn’t think it’s a traditional or common way of using it, I personally liked to add them to kimchi jjigae because it compliments their bitter/strong taste and I like leafy greens in my soups and stews. He said it was interesting, and that he was kind of impressed. The employee chimed to tell me I should be honoured at the compliment because the man was actually a chef who owned famous Korean fusion restaurants in the city. That was clearly someone who took Korean food very seriously and clearly had a certain degree of suspicion regarding how white people interacted with it, but he was also curious and interested in seeing how I approached ingredients without having grown up eating them.

Another point of contention is also that we cannot ignore that food is a sensual experience and that, while tastes are greatly influenced by our environment, they are not solely so. I grew up hating most of the food my parents would serve me, and started cooking in my early teens to avoid having to eat it. Before I started cooking, I would often just eat rice with (in hindsight horrible) western-brand soy sauce instead of the meal my mom had made. When I ate Indian food for the first time during a trip at the ripe age of 16, it blew my mind that food could taste like this. Of course I never wanted to look back, and with each years I discovered that a lot of Asian cuisines fit my palate better than what I grew up eating or other cuisines I had tried. When I was a teenager we visited my mom’s friend in France and I hated what she served us so much I’d simply choose to nibble on bread, prompting her to try to stage an intervention for my ‘obvious’ anorexia. Yet, being in China made me realise ingredients I thought I hated had just been cooked in ways I disliked. Do my taste buds absolve me from any need to think critically about how I interact with food? Of course not. But sometimes the reason we want to cook certain recipes and foods is just that it tastes great to us, and we want to reproduce the recipes we enjoyed with the ingredients and the skills we have. Or, really, sometimes we just want to try new tastes because we do a lot of eating throughout our lives, and it seems a waste to limit ourselves to a narrow number of dishes for decades to come.

So that’s where I currently am in my thinking about this topic, as a white person who cooks dishes influenced by a number of different places but who is also not trying to cook in a way that is necessarily authentic. Some things that I keep in mind that you can ask yourself now that cdramas and cnovels have made you interested in Chinese cooking is: are you taking this as an opportunity to support immigrant businesses when getting your ingredients? are you supporting white creators when looking for chinese recipes (some suggestion of youtube channels: Made with Lau, Chinese cooking Demystified, Family in Northwest China, 西北小强 Xibeixiaoqiang, 小高姐的 Magic Ingredients)? are you being respectful (not reproducing harmful stereotypes in how you talk about chinese food and the people who eat it)? do you use your interest in Chinese food to create a narrative about China and Chinese people that denies them, in some way, of their complexity and humanity? are you using your interest in Chinese food to create a narrative about yourself?

In conclusion I will leave you with a picture of some misshapen baozi I’ve made.

[meichenxi]

Dear ‘White guy speaks perfect X and shocks Y!’ language YouTubers: STOP

A rant about every single fucking video by Xiaomanyc and similar YouTubers all titled things like CLUELESS WHITE GUY/GIRL LEARNS [INSERT NON-WHITE LANGUAGE HERE] AND SHOCKS [INSERT PLACE].

Disclaimer: I am white British, and I am also very often a moron. I'm trying to inform myself more, and would like to learn. So let me know if there is anything I should change, anything I’ve got wrong or any terminology I can change. 

So this evening I opened YouTube to get some quality Hikaru no Go content, and saw yet another video recommended to me about Xiaomanyc called Clueless white guy orders in perfect Chinese, shocks patrons and staff!!!!

Really? Really. Ok, his Chinese certainly is good - but it isn't great. And it isn’t necessarily any better than people I've seen in the higher levels of a class at university who have spent some time in China. It's solidly intermediate. That's not an insult - that level of Chinese is hard to attain, and definitely worth celebrating!! Hell, I celebrate every new word I learn. But while it may be unusual, it doesn't forgive the clickbait type videos like 'White guy speaks perfect Chinese and wows [insert place]'. 

These kind of clickbait titles rest on a number of assumptions. Before I say any more, I just want to make a note about terminology. Note that ’majority’ and ‘minority’ are not necessarily helpful labels, because they imply both a) a higher number of speakers in a certain place, and b) socially prestigious in some way. Of course a language like standard Mandarin is not a minority in China, but it might be in Germany. Talking about ‘minority’ languages that have a large speaker base outside of the country, like Chinese, is also not the same as talking about languages that have been systematically surpressed by a colonising, dominant language in their original communities, like indigenous languages. In many communities, especially in colonial and post-colonial situations, the language spoken by the majority is not one of prestige at all. Or some languages may be prestigious and expected in oral contexts, but not written - and so on. I use these terms here as best I can, but don't expect them to work 100% of the time.

So let’s unpack these assumptions a little. 

1) That there is something inherently more ‘worthy’ in somebody who learns languages because they want to, rather than because they have to: and that, correspondingly, the people who want to are white (spoilers: much of Europe is multilingual, and white immigrants in majority white countries also exist, as well as discrimination against them e.g. Polish people in the UK), and that those who have to learn are not (spoilers: really? There are plenty of non-white monolinguals who are either happy being monolingual, don’t have access to learning, or don’t have to learn another language but are interested in it).

2) That everybody from a certain background automatically speaks all ‘those’ languages already, or that childhood multilingualism is a free pass - spoilers, it isn’t. Achieving high levels of fluency in multiple languages is hard, especially for languages with different writing systems, because no matter how perfect your upbringing, you’re still ultimately exposed to it maximum 50% of the time of monolingual speakers. Realistically, most people get far less exposure than 50% in any of their languages. Also, situations of multilingualism in many parts of the world are far more complex than home language / social language. You might speak one language with your father and his father, another with your mother and her family, another in the community, and another at school. Which one is your native language then? Monolinguals tell horror stories of ‘both cups half empty’ scenarios, but come on - how on earth do you expect a person to have the same size vocabulary in a language they hear only 25% of the time? Also, languages are spoken in different domains, to different people, in different social situations: just because someone hears Farsi at home doesn’t mean they can give a talk on the filing system at their local library. If something is outside of a multilingual person’s langauge domain, they might have to learn the vocabulary for it just like monolinguals. There’s no such thing as the ‘perfect bilingual’. 

3) That learning another language imperfectly for leisure is laudable, but learning one imperfectly for work or survival is not. If you’re a speaker of a minority language, learning another language is necessary, ‘just what you have to do’, and if you don’t do it ‘properly’, that’s because of your lack of intelligence / laziness etc. It’s cool for the seconday school student to speak a bit of bad Japanese, but not so cool for the Indian guy who runs her favourite restaurant in Tokyo. 

4) That majority speakers learning a minority language is somehow an act of surprising benevolence that should not go unrewarded. Languages are intrinsically tied up with identity - and access to them may not be a right, but a gift. Don’t assume that because you get a good reception with some speakers of one language that speakers of another will be grateful you’re learning their language, or that everyone will react the same. One of the reasons these videos are possible at all is that many Chinese speakers, in my experience, are incredibly welcoming and enthusiastic to non-natives learning Chinese. Some languages and linguistic groups have been so heavily persecuted that imagining such thing as an ‘apolitical’ language learner is a fundamental misunderstanding of the context in which the language is spoken, and essentially an impossibility when the act of speaking claims ownership to a group. Many people will not want you to learn their language, because it has been suppressed for hundreds of years - it’s theirs, not yours. We respect that. Whilst it’s great to learn a minority language, don’t do it for the YouTube likes - do it because you’re genuinely interested in the language, people, culture and history. We don’t deserve anything special for having done so. 

5) That speaking a ‘foreign’ (i.e. culturally impressive / prestigious) language is much more impressive and socially acceptable than speaking a heritage language, home language or indigenous language. There are harmful language policies all around the world that simultaneously encourage the learning of ‘educational’ languages like Spanish, and at the same time forbid the use of the child’s mother tongue in class. And many non-majority languages are not foreign at all - they were spoken here, wherever you are, before English or Spanish or Russian or, yes, standard Mandarin Chinese. Policies that encourage standardised testing in English from a very young age like the ‘No Child Left Behind’ policy in the US disproportionately affect indigenous communities that are trying to revitalise their language against overwhelming callousness and cruelty - they expect bilingual children to attain the same level of English as a monolingual in first grade, which in an immersion school, they obviously won’t (and shouldn’t - they’ll get enough exposure to English as they grow up to make it not matter later down the line). But if the schools want funding, their kids have to pass those tests. 

There’s more to cover - that’s just the tip of the iceberg. 

Some people’s response to these videos and why the titles are ‘wrong’ would be: does it matter that he's white? Shouldn't it just be 'second language learner speaks perfect Chinese'? This is the same sort of attitude as ‘I don’t see race’. I think it does matter that he is white - because communities of many languages around the world are so used to them having to learn a second language and colonial powers not bothering to learn theirs. You wouldn't get the same reactions in these videos if he were Asian American but grew up speaking / hearing no Chinese - because then it would be expected. You also wouldn't get the same reaction if he were an immigrant in a Chinese-speaking community from somewhere else in Asia.

It also implies that all white people = monolingual Americans with no interest in other cultures. While we all are complacent and complicit in failing to educate ourselves about the effects of historical and modern colonialism, titles like this perpetuate a very harmful stereotype - and I don't mean harmful as in 'poor Xiaomanyc', but harmful in that it suggests that this attitude is ok, it's part of 'being white', and therefore doesn't need to change. The reaction when someone doesn't engage with other cultures and isn't willing to learn about them shouldn't be 'lmao classic white guy'. That not only puts the subject in a group with other 'classic white guys', but puts a nice acceptable label on what really is privilege, a lack of curiosity, ignorance, and the opportunity (which most non-white people don't have) to have everything you learn in school and university be about you. If you're ignorant - ok. We are all about many things. But you don't have any excuse not to educate yourself. The 'foreigner experience' that white people get in places like China is not the same as immigrants in a predominantly monolingual, predominantly white English speaking area. As we can see in those kind of videos, white foreigners may be stared at, but ultimately enjoy huge privilege in many places around the world. It's not the same. 

It also ignores, well, essentially the whole of Europe outside the UK and Ireland and many other places around the globe, where multilingualism is incredibly common - and where the racial dichotomy commonly heard in America isn't quite appropriate, or an oversimplification of many complex ethnic/national/racial/religious/linguistic etc factors that all influence discrimination and privilege. Actually many 'white guys' in Europe and places all around the world speak four or five languages to get by - some in highly privileged upbringings and school systems, yes, but others because they have grown up in a border town, or because they are immigrants and want to give their children a better start than they did, or because they want to work abroad and send home money. Many, like people all around the world, don't get a chance to learn to read and write their first language or dialect, which is considered 'lesser' than the majority language (French, Russian, English etc); many people, like Gaelic speakers in Scotland or speakers of Basque in France, have faced historical persecution and have been denied opportunities for speaking their mother tongue. My mother was beaten and my grandparents denied jobs for being Gaelic speakers. They are white, and they have benefited from being white in lots of other ways - but their linguistic experience is light-years from Xiaomanyc's. 

It isn't 'white' to be surprised at a white person speaking another language - it's just ignorant. But the two ARE correlated, because who in modern America can afford to go through twenty one years and still be ignorant? People who have never had to learn a second language; people who have always had everybody adapt to THEIR linguistic needs, and not the other way around. People who have had all media, all books, centred around people who look like them and speak like them. And even in America, that's not just 'white' - that's specifically white (often middle class) English monolinguals.

I'm not saying everybody who doesn't speak a language should feel guilty for not learning one ( it's understandably not the priority for everyone - economic reasons, family, only so many hours in the day - there are plenty of reasons why language learning when you don’t have to is also not accessible to everyone).  But be aware of the double standards we have as a society towards other socially/racially/religiously disadvantaged groups versus white college grads. You can't demonise one whilst lauding the other. 

To all language YouTubers - do yourself a favour, and stop doing this. Your skills are impressive - that's enough. 

 tldr; clickbait titles like this rely on double standards and perpetuate harmful ideas - don't write them, and let your own language skills do the talking please.

[olivinesea]

Oooh fun! Okay, do you have any headcannons or thoughts on a dyslexic Hotch? I feel like I never see dyslexia with any characters really, and I like the idea of him with it. And if you do and you want to write something about it, a dyslexic Hotch with the team (and them being the supportive and protective family they are?) Thank you! ❤️

I hope you have fun, wherever/whatever you’re doing!!

I love this so much!! Thank you :) okay I don’t have much personal experience with dyslexia so hopefully I get this decently accurate. The biggest thing that surprised me when I was doing a quick search is that it isn’t actually a matter of reading words or letters backwards? It’s more an inability to connect letters to the appropriate sounds or to break words up into component parts; a general phonological awareness struggle.

So, as with many things, it seems to me to be a matter of slowing down, learning at your own pace. This ties in nicely with so many of my other Hotch thoughts, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Idk what this is, it’s neither headcanon nor proper story but hopefully it’s something like what you were looking for:

When he’s a kid he gets called a slow learner due to his undiagnosed dyslexia. It was much less common to get that kind of diagnosis back then in general and I am sure his dad would have hated the idea of his son needing any kind of extra help. So he’s slow to speak, slow to learn how to read, has difficulty with numbers, absolutely hates being called on to read out loud because it’s actual torture and the other kids have no hesitation about laughing at him. So he becomes withdrawn, labeled a “bad kid,” stops trying because, fuck it, he never gets any kind of support, who cares right? It’s always a fight at home, he starts hiding his work, lying about his grades. This works for awhile bc his parents are distracted by other things. His problems are much bigger than grades by the time they do notice.

However, while he hates school and the way people talk about him and his struggles, like he isn’t even there, he discovers that he doesn’t hate learning. There’s a small library in town where he found he could hide out, no one bothering him for hours if he just sat still for with a book open. He was good at sitting still, at being invisible. But eventually a librarian notices that he’s always got the same book open, some sort of technical manual, that he is rarely turning the pages. She asks him if he likes what he’s reading. He’s just alarmed to be spoken to, afraid that being noticed means he will soon no longer have this sanctuary. He nods and tries to bluff his way through but it’s obvious he hasn’t read it, despite having looked at it for weeks straight. The librarian doesn’t say anything outright, just lets him be for now.

Next time she sees him she brings him a different book, a collection of Grimms fairy tales. He wants to complain that it’s for little kids but is too nervous to refuse it. She asks if she can read him her favorite story from it. It’s dark and twisted and fantastical and he can’t help but be drawn in by it. He’s sad when she’s done reading, wants to hear it again, to capture all the details to replay to himself later. She shows him where it starts, encourages him to read it himself. He doesn’t look at her bc he doesn’t want her to see how upset he is by that, already frustrated by the anticipation that he won’t be able to get through it. But she stays with him, helping him where he gets stuck, asking him questions about the story, making sure it’s making sense to him.

They slowly work their way through the whole collection over the course of months. They spend days on each story, repeating it until he’s confident, she never makes him feel like he’s taking too long or wasting her time. Sometimes has to reread a section multiple times, gets hung up on the language rather than the story but it’s okay, she gives him a notebook to copy down parts that spin too loudly in his mind, saving them and also releasing him from their hold so he can move forward. She lets him keep the book, tells him it was too old to stay in circulation anyway, they had a new copy on order already. She’s the first person who was patient with him, that showed him he could do it, he just needed a little more time, a little more practice than other kids.

In college this is part of why he spends so much time at the library. Part of it is his natural inclination to overwork himself, push until he’s given more than he can in hopes that it might be almost enough. He knows he’s never been enough, why would that change just because he’s in a new place? But the other part is he simply needs more time to get through the coursework, to make it through the excessive amounts of reading he’s assigned. Some other students don’t even bother to read but he would never do that, he makes sure that he not only reads every chapter assigned but he reads it again, takes notes, highlights, annotates, does everything in his power to be prepared. Sure he might work himself to the point of exhaustion, to the point where he makes himself sick (though he’ll try to deny that too) but he’s never caught trying to read something while others wait for his answer, the letters and sounds meaningless, slipping away from him faster the more eyes he feels turn towards him, wondering what could be taking so long. No one ever gets the chance to laugh at him for being slow in college, he never allows them to see that side of him.

As an adult, the leader of the BAU, he’s too well respected for anyone to dare laugh at him but he still hates feeling unprepared. This ends up looking like long nights in the office, reviewing case files to the point of memorization, so that he won’t have to read any of it in front of his team. He can if he has to, he’s developed skills over the years, ways to calm the panic that only makes it harder, can fake it well enough that no one would really notice. Until one day, distracted by a migraine and the fallout of some fight with Haley, he gets stuck. He can’t remember something and he tries to read the sentence that has the information but the stupid word just won’t resolve into sounds that make sense and he just stops talking. He’s glaring at the form like it might catch fire. No one says anything for a moment while he tries to refocus, tries to work around echoes of laughter, decades long past but always ready to jump out at him if he lets his guard down, allows a mistake, a tired moment to derail the image of perfect competence that he’s built around himself. Penelope jumps in, finishing the thought, completing the list of traits shared by the victims. He forces himself to smile at her because he really is grateful, it wasn’t her fault. She scrunches her nose at him, dismissing his silent thanks with a toss of her head. It was nothing, everyone needs a little assist now and then.

No one brings it up and he doubles his efforts not to let anyone see. But he’s so tired on the plane coming back from a case, he’s been staring the same forms for an hour at least. He can feel his ears turning red with frustration. There’s really no reason he has to do this now but the fact that his mind is refusing, almost seems to be teasing him, makes him dig in harder. Emily sits down opposite him, pulling the folder away without asking. He’s about to say something sharp, something he’ll regret saying to her when he really means it for himself, but the expression on her face is so odd, smiling with a frown between her eyebrows. It isn’t pity, she respects him far too much, but there is curiosity and something else, something soft.

“Drink with me.” She slides him a glass and they don’t talk, just look out the window, look at the light playing off the ice in their glasses. He doesn’t see the file again until it appears on his desk, every form neatly filled out, the places needing his signature flagged. All but the last spot, where she’s signed his name eerily perfectly, difficult for even him to see that it’s not his own. Just so he knows she can if she wants to. Equal parts offer and threat.

Penelope and Reid start a book club. Derek joins right away. Emily rolls her eyes when she’s invited, muttering something about spending her free time on more work but they know she will join. Rossi flat out refuses to read the books but offers his house for meetings. Hotch hesitates, wanting to say yes but nervous to commit to an activity like that. He loves books, loves to talk about books. He doesn’t love a time limit on books.

The next time they have to drive to a case, Derek puts on a copy of the audiobook. It’s the first time they make it to a destination without any bickering from the backseat. They don’t get through the whole thing but later he finds a copy of the audiobook on his desk, complete with a disc player and headphones.

A different month, Reid tells him about how his mother always used to read him books and somehow finesses an offer to read to Hotch without him even realizing he’s accepted it. So Spencer comes in to Hotch’s office on lunch breaks occasionally and reads to him whatever the book of the month is. He loves it, remembering the first person who read to him, how shocked he’d been to be treated with patience, with understanding and wondering how he got so lucky to be surrounded by people like her, so ready to support him, wanting him there with them rather than off alone, uselessly fighting with himself to prove his self sufficiency over some uncooperative letters.

Okay, that was so much more than I was planning on but here we are. I hope you liked it and thank you SO much for the idea. If you ever have any others you want to share I am totally here for it. :)

Send me requests!

[kingofthewilderwest]

What's amatonormativity??

I’d encourage you to go to Google or check out tumblr tags and posts on amatonormativity to learn more!

Amatonormativity is the internalized cultural mindset that romance is default and central. It especially conceives of romance as the single most important relationship in someone’s life, to the point it should be focused upon and sought out above any other bond. It treats romance like the universal ultimate solution to any of our emotional bond problems (loneliness, intimacy, trust, support, longevity of relationships, etc.). Amatonormativity is heavily ingrained in many societies, like the mindset I find in people in the United States.

Of course romance isn’t a bad life experience! For many people, it can bring great joy. When people criticize amatonormativity, people aren’t criticizing that romance can be a great thing in someone’s life. The problem with amatonormativity is that it treats romance as the ULTIMATE thing, the ONE solution to our need for emotional fulfillment.

It’s important to understand that amatonormativity has profound negative side effects, whether you’re allo or aro, whether you’re queer or straight, and whatever gender you are. Society takes a lot of things for granted regarding romance and this can stunt our happiness. It stunts our ability to bond with other people around us or find satisfaction within our lives.

Amatonormativity underlies emotionally stunting assumptions like..... (disclaimer... I will often use language defaulting to the Western cishet perspective, because that’s the mindset of my broader society... I myself am an aroace enby and have more nuanced understandings of gender, gender expression, gender roles, sexual attraction and identity, romantic attraction and identity, etc.)

Automatically assuming that just because a man talks to a woman, the interaction MUST be romantic in nature (this of course intertwines with heteronormativity -- many of my points will intertwine with heteronormativity). It assumes there’s no such thing as “just friends” between people of “opposite” genders. This in turn can result in us losing opportunities to bond to, understand, or properly respect... literally half the human population.  

Treating friendships as secondary. Treating friendships as temporary. Treating friendships as more replaceable than romance. Treating friendships as less “deep” and important to our time than romance, even a romance you started two days ago with someone you met last week. By doing this, we lose the chance to grow deeper with someone near us. It limits the potential by which we can bond with another human soul and find happiness.  

The belief we are unlovable and not worth anything because we can’t find a romantic partner. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen people disregard their own worth because of this, and it makes me deeply sad. The truth is that our worth is not at all tied to whether we have a romantic partner. We can be so deeply loved and cherished in all sorts of relationships. Of course it’s still valid if you feel single blues because you want a romantic partner, but tying the concept into “I am worthless OR I’m dating” clearly is an emotionally harmful concept. It can result in everything down to hooking up in a relationship that you aren’t ready for or don’t like as much as you pretend you do.  

The belief that we are utterly alone without a romantic partner. I notice this often ties into the amatonormative belief that we can only get good physical touch, trust, emotional and physical intimacy, etc. through a romantic partner. I feel this mindset is especially pronounced in cishet men, since USA culture treats masculinity as lacking outwardly expressed vulnerability, and ergo you might not be getting your emotional needs met through your platonic and familial relations. The one “accepted” way of getting your emotional needs met comes through The Girlfriend / Wife. This belief prevents us from reaching out and finding support through other people in our lives. We can find love and comfort in friends. We can confide about our emotional struggles and find relational intimacy (great trust!) through familial and platonic bonds. Hugs, snuggling, other acts of physical affection are what humans need, and don’t need to be relegated to One Person Only. Plus... if we assume that our emotional struggles should be fulfilled by One Person Only... that puts enormous pressure on that partner to provide for everything. No one’s that strong. We need support networks, not one designated “save me” individual. It’s pure unhealthiness to mount burdens only on one person, and bottle yourself up otherwise. I often see this fallacy pop up when people start a new romantic relationship. You might barely know the person, and yet you’re trying to rely on them for everything, and you’re trying to be the person they’ll rely on for everything. You dive deep into the expectations before you really know how to handle it, and in the process become psychologically overwhelmed because of the Huge Responsibilities this role seems to entail. Being in a romance doesn’t automatically mean you’ve reached peak intimacy! Note: it’s not to say that romance can’t be a major avenue of security. Of course it’s a great way to fulfill intimacy, trust, physical needs, etc. Of course it can become a bond full of loyalty. But romance is actually like any other relationship... a familial relation can be weak or it can be strong, a platonic relation can be weak or it can be strong, and a romantic bond can be weak or it can be strong. The fallacy is that we are treating romance as *THE* way to fulfill all these diverse emotional problems, socking it onto one individual when it might be beyond their single load to bear, and then not seeking out help from the other sources that are around us.  

The belief that the only person you can live with is a romantic partner. Living with non-romantic roommates (aka living with friends) is seen as an undesirable inconvenience and something you only do temporarily because you financially have to. It’s seen as an immature youthful thing rather than something an established adult might do. Living with friends long-term out of chosen happiness is not something that crosses the mind of many people... it’s assumed you’ll either move out to live on your own, or marry and go and live with your partner.  

The belief that adulthood progresses through a very specific sequence of events. You go to school. You leave on your own. You marry. You get a house. You have kids. There’s a reason it’s common for family to nag you  “When are you going to get married? When are you going to get married?” Because clearly you haven’t made an important step of adulthood, an important step in life, unless you get married. I’ve noticed that for many of my friends, even those who are comfortable with the life choice to not get married... they express they don’t feel “as adult” as their married peers. And many people in society won’t treat them “as adult.”  

Harmful beliefs downplaying spousal abuse, like those people who try to argue “you can’t rape your wife / husband / spouse / girlfriend / boyfriend / significant enby / significant dumbass. That’s not what rape means.” Because a sexual-romance is the GOOD thing, right?  

AND MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH MORE!!!

Some people of course have a better handle on their relationships than others. Some people are better at ignoring what society considers most important or most default. Some of what I’ve said above is when these beliefs are treated to their utmost, rather than what some people will do (lots of people have close “besties”, for instance). But amatonormativity+heteronormativity creeps in everywhere in society.

It’s the reason why, in most Hollywood movies, the protagonist is a man and the main actress is his romantic partner. It’s the reason why these two characters might start a steamy romance even before they know each other well; who needs to write ACTUAL understanding between the two characters when they obviously are going to fall in love and fuck?

It’s the reason why advertisements are so sex-oriented (reminder note: society usually doesn’t distinguish sexual and romantic bonds). Advertisements try to make their product appealing by associating it to romance, the Ultimate Desirable. Here’s how to make you look hot so you can attract someone in a romantic-sexual relationship, because THAT’S the ultimate goal of life, right?

It’s embedded in linguistic expressions. If someone asks if you’re dating, you respond, “No, she’s only a friend.” Or. “No. We’re just friends.” Friendship is being treated as lesser. Breakups are treated as inevitably bad even if you choose to be friends afterwards -- because clearly being friends is “taking a step back”, right? Even the word “break up” -- oooo that’s bad sounding! (There have been multiple times I’ve ended romantic relationships where I’ve turned the phraseology on the head and told them it’s a step forward to better, happier, healthier, stronger bonds... and they had to think it through, because amatonormative society forgets this can be the case.) “Friendzoning” is seen as a crime in part because you’re not going to be as intimate with someone as you want to be... despite the fact that having a non-romantic and/or non-sexual relationship with someone could be JUST as meaningful and deep!

I’ve FREQUENTLY seen church study groups that offer only these options: young adult small groups, women’s small groups, men’s small groups, and married couple’s small groups. Because clearly the only “mixed” gender situations out there are when you’re too young to be married, or you’re married.

And frankly, I think it’s one of the reasons why fandom likes to play hook-up with all the characters. Shipping is SO much fun! I love shipping! This is not a comment against the act of shipping! But if everyone needs a romantic partner to be happy...... mmmmm.... yeah let’s rethink what the underlying assumption is here. It’s that default assumption that “romance=happiness, romance=ultimate goal, romance=happily ever after, friendship=lesser.” If two characters in a show don’t canonically hook up, fans can get angry... even if the relationship showed on screen is one with a lot of trust, loyalty, happiness, and intimacy.

I am aroace. I don’t know how many other friends in the aro and/or ace community have talked about how lonely and unhappy they feel, because all their friends around them are looking for sex and romance and ergo don’t treat their friendship deep enough for my friends to get their emotional needs met. It’s easy to feel left out in a world where everyone is looking for romance, and ergo you are never the bond they want to pursue.

There are many ways in which we can achieve close bonds with people. This is why I think it’s important to talk about amatonormativity. Again, I’m SO happy when my friends are happy in a good romance. That’s a good thing!!! But it’s so psychologically destructive, whether you’re aro or allo, to live in a world where romance is considered The One And Only Key to relational happiness.  

Talking about amatonormativity has the goal of helping us be aware about how society idolizes romance and/or sex. The goal is to help everyone know we have many options by which to pursue good, deep bonds in a variety of ways. The goal is to make sure we don’t treat romance as the only acceptable way to live. The goal is finding ways for humans to get our needs fulfilled healthily and widespreadly. The goal is to be more comfortable with and more accepting of people who don’t follow The One Righteous Path Of Required Romance, so that we can all be more comfortable with ourselves and the relations around us -- including being comfortable with our romances!

[bestworstcase]

farran re-reads lost lagoon: chapter 1

- there is a vibe here that i really don’t know how to explain. it might just be a juv fic thing where nuance gets flattened on the assumption that younger readers won’t or can’t understand such subtleties but i am immediately remembering that something about the way rapunzel is portrayed in the novels gets my hackles up. tts was evidently limited in how it could flesh out rapunzel’s character, and some of her flaws are glossed over accordingly - but in tts, rapunzel does have flaws, and toxic positivity is one that is repeatedly, if lightly, examined. in lost lagoon it feels like this trait has been dressed up in a party hat and presented to me as her best trait with a rah rah girl power cake to go with it, and it irks me. we’ll see how this holds out through the rest of the story, because in all fairness i have never met a juvfic first chapter whose character establishment i liked. lmao

- to give an example - in tangled and tts, pascal functions as rapunzel’s voice of reason. he encourages her to get out of the tower, and likewise encourages her to be cautious of eugene and check for ‘red flags’ (such as pointy teeth). in tts he regularly displays emotional awareness and sensitivity well beyond what rapunzel can grasp, and makes his doubts known when he feels rapunzel is behaving poorly. here… he’s afraid of heights, for some reason, so rapunzel can look carefree, spirited, and brave while teasing him for having this fear. she even lampshades the fact that it makes no sense for pascal, who grew up in a seventy-foot-high tower, to be afraid of being in a tree perhaps five or six feet off the ground. 

then this is underscored by means of guards rushing up with a ladder to ‘help’ rapunzel down from the tree, followed by her laughing them off and jumping to land ‘as always, on my strong bare feet.’ while it makes sense for rapunzel to think and feel this way, it has a distinctly different energy from rapunzel cracking under pressure in before ever after. in bea i feel like i’m supposed to sympathize with rapunzel’s distress whilst also recognizing the importance of the shoes she has been asked to fill, and of making her ready to fill them; that is… not the impression being crafted here.

- lost lagoon is one hundred percent structured as a coming out romantic novel wherein rapunzel identifies and comes to terms with her identity as a gay woman by cheating on her perfectly nice but unexciting male love interest with another woman, and this is endlessly hilarious to me regardless of anything else. i mean:

Not to mention true love with Eugene—sweet, funny Eugene! […] And yet something wasn’t right. Something was missing.

leila howland said “get fucked, fitzherbert”

- the treatment of friedborg here is a small step up from tts, where ‘haha weird and ugly’ is literally the punchline of every scene she’s in, but nevertheless it is distinctly uncomfortable to have a mute character portrayed as communicating in grunts and pointing. surely corona has some sort of sign language? surely someone could get this poor woman a slate and a piece of chalk, or if fine motor control is an issue that makes writing or signing prohibitively difficult then at the very least a booklet of cards with common words and phrases she could use to convey her meaning? but…no. instead she becomes a device to illustrate how opaque and confusing rapunzel finds palace etiquette to be.

- rapunzel thinking “manners are overrated” is extremely funny. i am not sure it’s supposed to be funny, but it is.

- lost lagoon eugene is suffering the great indignity of being made to learn something. this is one of the first signs that the book is fanfiction, which now that i think of it is also sort of hilarious.

- also: “I’ll join a dishwashing club or participate in a meatloaf-eating competition if that’s what it takes to make your dad accept me.” eugene what

- re: romance novel: “I watched Eugene walk back toward the castle. Why couldn’t I be as happy as he was? I wondered. We had everything anyone could ever want. Was there something wrong with me? It was almost like I didn’t even know I was lonely when I was in the tower, but everything had changed now. I could feel the places inside me that had been empty for so many years and I wanted to fill them all up.”

- amusing as this is i also can’t help but feel… a little irked, that tts rapunzel’s zeal for the outside world and her discovery of it has been transmuted into mere loneliness. rapunzel is a lonely person, absolutely, but i think far more pressing than that loneliness is her longing for newness after a life spent in the tower. moreover, in tts we see that it takes six months for rapunzel to start really chafing within the confines of her new life—in beginnings, which is the canon lost lagoon equivalent, she is still overwhelmed with wonder and delight in all the new things, cassandra included. i suppose what i’m getting at here is i don’t quite buy that the shine wore off this fast. it’s been less than a week.

(i promised myself i would keep bitter snow talk to a minimum for this but i do feel the need to say - benighted happens in a far more compressed amount of time than canon, and there rapunzel does indeed begin to feel overwhelmed and anxious within a single week. but her response to that anxiety is to think “well, i overestimated how easy this would be just a little!” and it isn’t until several more weeks have passed that she begins to feel dissatisfied and unhappy and uncomfortable as a consequence. whereas here, the vibe i am getting is more “manners are dumb, shoes suck, the guards suck, i’m miserable and i don’t know why” which just… it doesn’t feel like rapunzel.)

- rapunzel asks her security detail to give her some space, and when they refuse, she takes note of their sweaty brows, thinks to herself that they must be roasting under their armor—and uses this observation to deftly manipulate them into leaving her alone by suggesting they go dip their feet in a fountain to cool off. “It would make me really happy to see you happy.” 

i would argue that this sort of conscious manipulation is not at all out of character for rapunzel - she learned it from gothel and certainly there are examples of manipulative behavior from her in tts as well - but for it to happen so clearly in the very first chapter of the story casts everything else that happens in a sort of interesting light. for rapunzel to do this suggests a basic grasp of, at least, how people can be made to do things by appealing to their physical needs or comfort—yet she will also struggle to grasp social nuances and as in canon much of her conflict with cass is grounded in rapunzel’s dismissal of or blindness to what cassandra wants or needs from her. manipulativeness and social ignorance is an interesting combination of traits for her to have and it is nice to see the manipulativeness borne out so overtly in the text. again, we’ll have to see how this holds up later in the story because i do not remember it very well.

re: romance novel: the dissatisfaction and loneliness established in chapter one and explicitly not filled by the male love interest are, of course, answered by a fascinating glimpse of the one (1) gnc woman in all of corona. whom rapunzel only glimpses because she is climbing a tree to paint the view out of hopes that it will “fix” how out-of-place she feels. ms. howland you are not subtle, and also, how did she slip this past the disney censors?

[bl597]

Hey Again~! May I request a Sirius x Female Fifth Marauder? Thanks and also you wrote my last request beautifully 🥰

hello, dear! thank you so much 💞 of course, I'm sorry for the wait!! also, I didn't know what exactly you wanted to so I just wrote it, hope you enjoy it! 💖

warnings: the words 'fuck you' like twice, (Y/a/n) stands for your animagus name, Sirius becomes (Y/n) and (Y/n) becomes Sirius, the plot is a little ??? but yeah it worked, it's not revised bc I'm lazy, fluffy, english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes!! also, requests are closed for a while, but I'll open them soon!

my masterlist ♡

Sirius was bored and for some unknown reason you had a small bottle of Polyjuice potion on your dorm, so what could go wrong, right? You decided it would be funny to pretend to be each other and Sirius thought the exactly same, so here you were now: in the girl's bathroom with Sirius, a little bottle on both your hands.

“You ready?” you asked and he nodded, smirking before you two drank it together.

It was a weird feeling, you felt like your skin was wax and it was melting, stretching your skin so you could look just like the boy right in front of you. You felt your legs growing, and you had the impression that you were taller now, your hands bigger than usual and your torso didn't have boobs anymore, it was just flat. “Wow” you said, looking at the mirror and seeing none other than Sirius Black.

You were glad you had changed clothes before, or else it would be a little bit weird to change someone else's clothes – even though you knew it was you, it still was Sirius' body, and that would be uncomfortable for both of you. “How do I look?” he asked and you finally looked at him; he was exactly like you. The same eyes, same face, same hair, same everything.

“Hot” you answered, sweeping your hands through your hair just like Sirius does and he chuckled. “Do you reckon they'll believe it?”

“Definetly. We all only share one single brain cell, and we're using it now. They won't even notice” he replied with a mischievous smile.

The both of you then left the bathroom quietly, being careful not to let someone see you leaving it at the same time, or else it might earn you a detention. You two then headed to the Gryffindor tower, excitedly talking about your plan and what their reaction would be.

“Password” asked the Fat Lady with a charming smile.

“Bowtruckle” you both said in unison, giggling as the she opened the door to the common room.

“You think they'll notice?” Sirius whispered and you shook your head with a small smirk as you two sat down on the couch next to the other boys.

“Hello, lads” you said, wrapping your arms around Remus' and James' shoulders just like Sirius does.

“Night, losers” Sirius said, throwing a pillow on you with a cheeky smile.

James and Remus exchanged knowing smiles, speaking to each other with their eyes. Remus looked at the stairs to the boys' dorms and then at James, who nodded with a wink.

“Hey, Pads, can you help me with something? It's on our dorm” he asked and you nodded a little confused, following him to the boys' dorm.

You have been here a few times before with them, so you gladly already knew the way to it. When you entered the room, he closed the door and turned to you with a smirk. “So, how was it? Did you tell her already? You both entered the common room giggling and all happy, I bet you two were kissing before its” he asked and you frowned.

“Oh, no, I'm actually planning on telling her later. When we're.. alone, you know?” you smirked, hoping he would believe you knew what you were talking about, which he apparently did. He gave you a big smile and patted your shoulder before you two left the dorm again.

Remus was talking to Sirius about a book you had told him while Sirius was confusedly saying things that definitely were not on the book and you laughed quietly at his face. They both looked up when they heard footsteps and saw it was you and James, Sirius sighed in relief and Remus looked at James with a curious look, but Prongs just shook his head.

“Hey, Pads, can we talk for a sec?” Sirius said almost desperately and you nodded, leaving the common room with him as Remus and James encouraged you, a big smile on their faces.

Once you were out of the common room again, Sirius turned to you with wide eyes, blushing slightly “What did Prongs tell you?” he asked nervously.

“Apparently I have something to tell you, (Y/a/n)” you replied with a small smirk, watching as he face palmed himself “Hey, stop, don't hit my pretty face”

“He didn't mention anything else, right?” you shook your head and he sighed in relief again “Great” he murmured, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“Actually, he mentioned something else” you said with a mischievous smile and paused for a while, pretending to think. His eyes widened as he looked at you, a blush painting your his face “He mentioned something about us kissing before entering the common room. Don't know what he meant with that”

If possible, Sirius became even redder than a pepper. You had never seen Sirius so flustered like this, and that made your eyes widen in surprise, a smirk forming itself on your lips.

“I'll kill him” he groaned, his confident self vanishing away.

“Mind telling me what's so special you had to tell me?” you asked, kind of already knowing what it was all about, but you just wanted to see how long it'll take for him to finally admit it. You raised a brow at his lack of words and he groaned again, still blushing. “Cat got your tongue, Black?”

He then approached you, eyes fixed on yours and you felt your knees go weak, but you kept the smirk on your lips. He got so close to you that your noses were brushing against each other, your lips a few centimeters away from his. “I always wondered how it would feel to kiss myself” he spoke quietly, his voice with a hint of tease as his lips mirrored your smirk.

“Why don't you do it, then?” your voice was barely above a whisper when it left your mouth and you soon felt his lips meeting yours in a kiss you've been dreaming about for years.

Your hands cupped his face to deepen the kiss and his hands rested on your hip as he pulled you closer to him, your mouths moving in synch as your tongues fought for dominance. He pulled apart a few minutes later to breathe, nipping at your bottom lip as he did so. “How was it?”

“Better than I expected it to be” he confessed smiling.

“So the oh so important thing you had to tell me was that you always wanted to kiss yourself?” you asked, holding back your laughter as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“No, you idiot. I wanted to say that...” he murmured the last part shyly, which made you smirk.

“Sorry, I didn't hear you, Pads” you teased, with a fake innocent expression as you looked at him.

“Fuck you” he mumbled before pulling you by the colar of the shirt you were wearing and kissing you again, this time rougher than the kiss you shared a few minutes ago. When you were about to deepen it, he pulled apart and you groaned as he proudly watched your swollen lips. “I hope that answers your question”

“It didn't” he looked at you in disbelief and you smirked before speaking again “But I'll accept it anyways. You can tell me you love me later when you're not looking like a human pepper.” you winked at him before pulling him by his hand to the common room, where Moony and Prongs were excitedly waiting for you two.

They looked up almost immediately when they heard the footsteps and their smile widened even more when they saw your red faces.

“What do you think, Moony?” asked Prongs.

“Hmmm, Pads' lips are really swollen” he pointed at your lips and then at Sirius' face “and (Y/a/n)'s face looks like it's on fire which means they were snogging. Besides, they're holding hands” he pointed with a cheeky smile at your laced fingers.

“Fuck you both” Sirius groaned, dragging you to sit down on the couch next to him.

~

taglist ♡

@bwitchd @fific7 @iamak20 @msmimimerton @grierpilots @idontknowwhatthisisfam @imseeinggred @kashishwrites @tsuukichan @mischiefsemimanaged @just-a-dreamer23

[aki-draws-things]

Fic title Meme: People Pleaser

OK, that was fun, and I can see clint agreeing on everything everyone may ask, except the don't consider this as a "payback" for the brainwashed betrayal time. They simply ask and are genuinely happy that Clint agrees to help.

I'm still trying to get in the right set to wrote them so.. I hope it's okay~

@captainjimothycarter

Anyone has other titles??? 💖

Title: People pleaser

Ship: Winterhawk

Tag: light angst, guilty clint, pre-relationship, first kiss

At first Bucky didn’t think much of it; he was still wrapping his own head around the idea of staying at the Tower, the idea that the rest of them were being almost friendly with him, the idea, for the first time in years, that he belonged somewhere. He didn’t have time to think of other things, but if he did, he thought back some time later, he would have seen it much sooner.

The Tower was chaotic, but in a good, functional way, with Stark constant chatters and babbles, Steve begging for him to “Just close your mouth as you eat breakfast Tony, for the love of God.” . Dr Banner with his calm aura always surrounding him, Bucky saw him angry, he saw the Hulk, he’d like not to see him around the Tower during fine mornings, thank you very much. Thor… Well, he wasn’t used to Thor honestly, and he wasn’t sure he liked his straightforwardness, but Steve always said he meant well so he could try a bit harder next time he was around. Natasha-- Natalia-- Natasha was the easiest to have around, more than once he found himself getting drawn toward her, her familiarity, her understanding; he could mutter in russian and she wouldn't need to ask for a translation, she wouldn’t tell him that he didn’t need to use that language anymore now that he wasn’t the Winter Soldier, Natasha would simply answer him.

And then, right when Bucky thought that maybe leaning on Natasha was the best choice if he didn’t want to worry Steve, Barton changed the cards on the table.

At first Bucky thought nothing of it, being around Barton was just as easy, something in his smile, something in his easy going way, something in how he seemed to understand his mood when not even Bucky fully understood them. He was always around, always close, hands hovering by but never touching unless someone started a contact, like he was afraid, craving the touch but afraid of it. Of asking.

He was different around Natasha, and Bucky thought that this was the reason he felt himself converging toward him in the end. Around Natasha he was physical, never asking, never waiting, he would flop down beside her and wrap himself around her one limb at time, and Natasha, scary, deadly Natasha, would lay there, perfectly comfortable with the archer turned octopus wrapped around her and lift a hand to scratch his head.

So Bucky took a step back, quietly, unconsciously; he didn’t want to intrude in that level of intimacy just because Natasha could understand him, it felt wrong toward someone who had been there earlier than him.

That was when he noticed it, one day when Natasha was away for a mission.

he walked, shuffled, okay, he dragged his feet inside the common room after a sleepless night filled with memories, and nightmares, and more nightmarish memories, his mind screamed at him to stay in bed, his stomach had a different idea and an empty, growling stomach in a time and place where he could fill it with anything he preferred was very hard to ignore. The compromise was to get back into bed after breakfast and call it a day, or a morning, depending on how fast he would get hungry again. no training, no walks in a park, no nothing.

Clint was there, he heard him before even entering the room, talking with Steve in the usual cheerful voice, agreeing with something Steve asked, Bucky didn't know what. When he walked inside Steve was leaving the table, positively glowing, he clapped a hand over Bucky's shoulder not seeing the light flinch and walked out. Clint chuckled and pushed a mug of coffee toward him before he even decided if he wanted coffee, he could as well accept it at this point.

"too physical, right? - he nodded toward the door Steve disappeared out. - he's like an overgrown puppy, unconcealed excitement and all."

Bucky just smiled quickly and sipped from the mug, coffee just as sweet as he liked. He watched as the archer drowned his mug empty and left it in the sink before sighing and stretching.

"better get going or I'll be late." without another word he waved at him before leaving the common room.

By nightfall when he met the archer again he looked tired to the bones, absolutely worn out, still he smiled as Bruce thanked him for something bucky wasn't paying attention to.

At first he thought nothing of it, until he saw his smile falter just slightly, the usual light in his eyes dimmed as he told Stark about a little inconvenience , or so he called it, he had with the hearing aids during the mission. Little inconvenience being the high pitched sound that left him swaying dizzily when Sam's new drone flew too close.

Stark grabbed the aids as soon as Clint took them out, muttering fast under his breath and searching for the problem dismissing with a wave of the hand Clint's quiet "I probably set them wrong, there's nothing wrong with them, sorry to bother.", like it had been his fault.

"it could use a bit more sugar…"

Steve looked at the cookies in front of him, the sugar, in bucky's opinion, was the least problem, they should resemble falcon's wings as Steve explained, and instead it looked more like a… bucky wasn't sure honestly. Not wings anyway.

"but I'm used to very very sweet things, that's just my mouth!"

Bucky blinked as Clint flashed an encouraging smile at the captain. He took a cookie. They definitely needed more sugar, on top of a better shape. Bucky almost doubted Steve put sugar in them at all.

The smile over clint's lips was real, he knew it, and yet it looked stretched, strained, painful, like he felt bad for saying something was off about Steve's cooking, like he offended Steve somehow. Steve simply took note of the sugar, "and the shape, Steve. I don't want to be the one explaining these are supposed to be wings." bucky added, and went to try and make the cookies again. They would eat cookies for a week, at that rate.

It took bucky almost a year to figure out a pattern, a whole year of clint's smiles that one after the next bucky wanted to steal from the rest of the team because they failed to see behind them. He loved the way Clint smiled, how the room seemed brighter when he was around. Maybe it was just bucky feeling that, maybe he was… was it love? He couldn't exactly go up to Steve and ask him, he couldn't be so blunt with Natasha either. Not to mention Clint.

The mission had been hard, flying aliens covered in spikes caused more damage than they thought, Clint joined when the fight had started already, coming from a completely different mission, bucky heard him talk to Natasha a week before.

He scratched his head, made up some kind of weak excuse when stark asked what took him so long, he apologized and bucky made a quick mental note to confront him on that, he had nothing to apologize for. He would definitely tell him that as soon as the spiky aliens were gone.

"fuck. I'm sorry Buck. I'm--"

Clint hung his head low, bucky barely managed to convince Steve not to feel guilty that one of the aliens stabbed him through the side, and it was hard to deal with the sad puppy eyes Rogers could make, he was too tired to deal with clint's guilt too.

"you've done nothing." he said and saw his shoulders drop even lower. "Nothing wrong." he quickly added.

"I was supposed to have your six."

Yeah, that was his position and bucky would be damned if he said he didn't trust him with his life.

"you saved a group of civilians stuck in a building. 7 people? Against one super soldier who will be up in a couple more hours."

Still that didn't ease the pain he saw in clint's eyes.

"okay. - bucky knew he didn't mean it, he didn't believe him. - okay, tell me what I can do to make it better. Serum or no you've been stabbed, because of me. Tell me how I can have your forgiveness."

That was… what? Bucky blinked, confused. Forgiveness? Was guilt so deep in his mind? Was that why he--

Oh, fuck.

Bucky sighed.

"a smile. - sap. He knew stark, and Natasha would say that upon hearing his request. - a smile and you're forgiven."

"it's a bit small. You can ask me anything you want. I can spar with you when you're up. I can… really, Barnes, anything. You got wounded because of m--"

"is that why you're always so compliant? Something happened and you try to.. Don't know, make up for that?"

He trembled, and bucky wanted to wrap around him and hold him.

"they shouldn't trust me. They probably don't but they try. So maybe one day I will have their trust back, like before my mind got fucked up by that crazy God." he blurted out and bucky couldn't help but stare.

"but really, tell me how I can--" Clint tried to change the topic again and bucky acted on pure impulse.

"if a smile is too little, then I want a kiss."

[nearlymanaged]

17. Arrogant Toerag and A Birthday Kiss

That spring, the morning of March tenth ushered Remus’ seventeenth birthday in with a thunderous rainstorm. James, Sirius, and Peter had woken him up with magical fireworks whizzing all around their dormitory, and spent the rest of the morning surprising him with little acts of service. One of them happened to be James hexing a sixth year Ravenclaw boy who once won a duel against Remus in their third year and had been boasting about it every chance he got ever since. 

Unlike Sirius, Remus didn’t care for big celebrations and loud parties to commemorate his existence. Instead, it had become a Marauders tradition for the other three boys to get him a chocolate cake every year. They always did it in secret, sneaking off to the kitchen a couple of days beforehand, making plans with the house elves. And Remus always pretended like he didn’t know what was going on.

“Where’s Wormy?” James checked his wristwatch, tapping his foot impatiently. “He should have been back by now.”

“I can’t believe he’d gotten himself a detention on Moony’s birthday,” Sirius folded his arms over his chest with a pout, at which James turned to face him pointedly slowly.

“Do you hear yourself?”

Sirius merely narrowed his eyes at his friend. James had just suggested that everyone play something together, like Transfiguration Charades or Spin The Bottle or whatever else, while he was going to go get the cake. He plunged into this whispered conversation the moment Remus disappeared at the top of the stone steps, to stash away all the chocolate bars he’d gotten from his friends throughout the day.

There was a wide, red banner suspended in air across the length of the common room. It read ‘HAPPY 17TH BIRTHDAY, REMUS!’ with a whole bunch of hearts that Sirius had personally charmed to float around the words, leaving faint trails of sparks behind. Occasionally, it would start singing Happy Birthday, consequently startling an unsuspecting student here and there.

“We should go get the cake now,” James said louder this time, speaking over the singing banner. “Sirius?” 

“I’ll go with you!” Lily jumped up from her armchair.

“Nevermind, Sirius…” James mumbled, all while gazing at Lily, starry-eyed. “Well, well, well. I didn’t know you’re that interested in spending time with me.”

“Get that smirk out of my face, Potter. Didn’t you see that Sirius is busy?” She cast a glance back into the common room as the two of them clambered out through the portrait hole.

“Ah, yes, daydreaming about Moony...” James shrugged, throwing the invisibility cloak over them both in one swift motion; when he spoke again, he couldn’t keep a note of annoyance out of his voice. “I don’t get it. If Moony fancies him back, how come they’re not together?”

“You tell me! We both know Remus is not going to make the first move.”

There really was no arguing with that, James thought as he crouched ever so slightly, loosely hooking his fingers under Lily’s arm to keep her close and fully covered. “Sirius’ Boggart is Remus rejecting him... But I didn’t tell you that!” James added in a hasty whisper.

“Of course you didn’t,” Lily waved it off as they marched down the corridor, unseen by anyone, “but surely, Sirius has been nervous about asking people out before?”

“Oh sweet Merlin, you have no idea how dramatic Sirius can be. He hasn’t stopped whining about how he can’t mess it up because it’s Moony.”

“Well... Encourage him! Be his best mate, cheer him on!”

“Easy for you to say, Evans,” James chuckled, gently nudging her side with his elbow. “How about you encourage Remus?”

“It’s not a matter of encouragement. Unfortunately, he doesn’t believe that Sirius fancies him.”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t believe it? Hasn’t he noticed that they’ve been pretty much acting like they’re already together?”

“What, you mean Sirius always touching him somehow and walking him to lessons when he himself should be on the other side of the castle? No, no, that’s just what friends do. Or are you talking about how they wrestled in the common room the other day until Remus managed to pull his jumper off Sirius while sitting on top of him? Because, obviously, Sirius hadn’t asked permission to borrow it so justice needed to be restored, that’s it, nothing more than that. Just two pals,” Lily sighed and shook her head.

“You’re joking...”

“I wish. For someone as smart as Remus--”

“He’s a fucking idiot.”

“Couldn’t have said it better,” Lily let out a melodious laugh and James felt it wrap itself around his heart.

“Who’s there?” The voice of Peeves spoke almost directly above them, prompting them to quickly tiptoe away while trying not to laugh.

“So what are we going to do about them?” James whispered again once they were sure there was no one around at all.

“What do you mean?” Lily turned her head to look at him.

“I mean, we have to help them. They’re two of my best friends, I can’t watch them throw their love away… And also,” he added with a guilty smile when Lily peered at him with a quirked eyebrow, “I am so bloody tired of Sirius whining about it.”

“I don’t know that it’s up to us to do anything,” she grinned at his confession. “They’re both adults...legally, as of today. They can handle themselves.”

“Uh-huh, so you didn’t volunteer to come with me so that Sirius could spend more time with Remus without us around? I see, I see. So you are hopelessly in love with me, after all. Incredible,” James concluded as they stopped in front of a painting of a fruit bowl, offering her a cheeky smirk. 

“You know,” Lily was feeling for the edge of the invisibility cloak as she spoke, “sometimes you say things that are so moronic that there simply aren’t words in the English language I could respond with.”

She stepped from under the cloak and then things happened in such rapid succession that James’ unspoken retort died in his throat - they heard quick footsteps getting nearer, Lily held her arm out just to the left or where James was still hidden by the cloak, and right as he was about to lift it and cover Lily again, it was too late.

“Oh. It’s you.” Snape was standing at the end of the corridor; he seemed to be stunned for a second but then took a few rather eager steps towards Lily. “What are you doing here?” He stumbled over his words, doing a poor job at hiding how surprised by Lily’s presence he was.

“Waiting...for someone… Am I not allowed? Are you a Prefect now?”

“No…” Snape clicked his tongue, managing to pull himself together now. “Waiting for your new delinquent friends?”

“Who?” Lily’s face soured.

“Potter and his gang, of course,” he spat out and James narrowed his eyes, trying to decide whether he wanted to hex Snape or smack him instead. “I’ve noticed you’ve become rather friendly with them lately.” He paused, allowing Lily to say something, perhaps hoping that she would deny it; however, she remained silent. Snape spoke again, now sounding more like his usual annoying, stuck-up, nasty self, James thought. “You used to think that Potter was an arrogant toerag. What happened?”

“I did the hard thing: I grew as a person and learnt and accepted that I had been wrong, instead of holding onto a grudge against a silly childhood memory.”

“A silly childhood memory, really?” Snape laughed mirthlessly. “They’re bullies and you know that as well as me. And freaks, too. Did you know that one of them is bisexual? Even Muggles call his kind freaks.”

“Yeah,” Lily spat out, stoney faced. “And the other’s a gay werewolf, and I’m a mudblood. So what? None of this means anything, Severus.”

“That’s not fair-- You know I didn’t m--”

James caught a briefest moment of hesitation in Lily’s steady breathing. “Severus,” she took half a step towards the Slytherin boy. “I’m planning on joining the Ministry and Dumbledore after Hogwarts, as soon as I sit my last exam. A lot of us are going to do that. Don’t you ever for a second forget that this is not about Potter,” James saw her fingers curl into a fist slowly, to stop her hand from shaking, but her voice was strong and fierce. “And not about anyone else at all. This isn’t even about you calling me a mudblood-” Lily plowed on even when Snape gave the tiniest jerk of his head, as if about to say something- “you chose the Dark side and I just cannot— I will not stand for it.”

Snape stood there for a moment that seemed to drag on and on, silent, staring at Lily down his nose. “Dark side?” He finally uttered, barely above a whisper, and James rolled his eyes before remembering that he was invisible. “There are no such things as bad and good sides. The world isn’t just either black or white. You, of all people, should know that, Lily.”

“I’ve said my piece, Severus. No matter how many times we’ve tried to figure it out, we always ended up in the same spot. Can you please just...go. Leave me and my freak friends be.”

James heard bitterness in the last sentence that Lily uttered. He watched her stare at Snape so intensely and fearlessly that her eyes seemed greener and hair redder all of a sudden, as if her whole being was charged full of magic bursting to get out. Finally, Snape turned on his heel without another word, and angrily marched off.

James’ hand was clutching a fistful of the cloak and, after waiting a couple of seconds, he pulled it off himself. Lily was still looking in the direction where Snape had disappeared around the corner. Then, she turned away, as if waking up from a trance.

“What? What’s that look?” Lily peered up at James, her eyebrows knitting together over those green eyes.

There were a few things he wanted to say, and it took some amount of self-restraint to get his thoughts in order before he spoke. “Remus is gay?”

“Fuck.” Lily breathed out, her voice saturated with frustration. “I should not have told him. I really shouldn’t have… But calling Sirius a freak because of who he fancies… It just made me so mad...” She mumbled on.

“Don’t worry about it. If Snape tries doing anything to hurt Remus, I will personally pluck his greasy hairs out, one by one. I won’t let anyone bully Remus for...” James trailed off, a wave of red hot shame flushing his face. “I know I’ve been an ass,” his eyes darted to the floor momentarily, “to quite a few people. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Snape’s not wrong about that, about me being a bully.”

“Yes, you have been an ass. But listen to yourself now.” Lily’s arms were folded across her chest, her right hand fingers picking at a loose thread coming out of her left sleeve. “Isn’t that the best we can do? Try to be better, all the time?”

“Yeah… I think so. Look, Lily, I--” James kept fiddling with the bunched up cloak in his arms; he wished he would have known how to put into words what he was trying to say. He wished he knew how to make Lily understand that he truly was ashamed of how he had behaved in the past, oftentimes around her, and that he didn’t think he was that prick anymore. “I’m not saying that I’m sorry that that tosser is not in your life anymore, but...I’m sorry you lost a friend. I know that you used to be close…”

“Yeah…” She offered him a faded smile, but the next moment, her eyes had lively sparks in them again. “I appreciate you saying that.”

“So…” He glanced around for what to say next, before the words erupted out of his mouth. “You don’t think I’m an arrogant toerag anymore?” 

Lily shook her head at James’ grin. “I like being friends with you, James.”

“Me too.”

“So shall we get going then?”

“Huh?”

“The cake…”

“Ah, yes! The cake! Right!”

* * *

“What’s that?”

Remus, who had just walked out of his dormitory and down the steps, lifted a book he was holding to show Sirius the cover. Slanted gold letter across it read ‘Twelve Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches’. “My dear aunt Davina sends her love for my birthday.”

“Oh…”

“She loves to talk about how getting married at seventeen was the best decision she ever made.”

“Oh?” Sirius crossed the common room alongside Remus.

“She’d love nothing more than to have my dad allow her to arrange a marriage for me.”

“Oh.”

“I think she might secretly be a lesbian. There you go,” Remus handed the book to an unsuspecting second year boy who was sitting on a pouffe, counting his gobstones. “I’m a Prefect,” Remus added when the boys stared up at him utterly bewildered. 

“Remus. I love you.” 

“Thanks, Pads,” Remus laughed out. “So where did everyone go?” He looked around the room.

“Come over here, we’re playing Truth or Dare!” Dorcas Meadowes waved them over from a group of people clustered in a disorderly circle.

“Ooh!” Sirius perked up at the same time as Remus let out a groan. “Oh, shut up, you. It’ll be fun,” he grabbed Remus by the wrist and dragged him towards a spot where a few people scooted over to make room for them.

Remus had never been a big fan of the game, he always rather felt that he had too many dark and embarrassing secrets for it. Over the years filled with long evenings in the Gryffindor tower, it had become a bit of a joke about how he would become grumpy and sour at the very mention of it. But he would humour his friends once in a while and join in for a bit, and try to be a good sport about it as much as he could bear.

Most of the kids in the group were sixth and fifth years, with a few girls that Remus knew to be fourth years, and a handful of younger pupils whom he did not know, other than recognising their faces from seeing them around. It was a while before the bottle landed on him, and the moment it did, his heart seemed to give out an extra beat. Remus scolded himself silently and gave out a faint sigh as he looked over at one of the fourth year girls as she posed the dreaded question: 

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he answered without missing a beat and a couple people hissed ‘oh come on’.

“How many people have you snogged?”

“Very original,” he drawled. “I didn’t realise we’re playing truth or dare for eleven year olds.”

“Fine then. What’s the biggest secret you’ve ever kept?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret anymore if I told you now, would it?”

“Oh please. You just didn’t want to answer the first question because you’ve never snogged anyone,” jeered a fifth year old boy in a Sex Pistols T-shirt, already reaching for the empty bottle impatiently..

Remus looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “four,” before snatching the bottle himself and spinning it. 

There was some debate at first but it was agreed that the glass neck was pointing more towards Marlene than Frank. “Dare!” She exclaimed before he could even ask.

“Alright,” Remus grinned at her with blatant mischief painted all over his face, “go ask Sir Nicholas out,” he nodded his head towards the Gryffindor ghost having a seemingly pleasant conversation with some first years at the edge of the common room.

“But...he’s dead!”

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged.

“Fine,” Marlene was grinning now, obviously unwilling to lose. “Take notes, you lot!” She got up as everyone laughed.

“You sly thing, you!” Sirius lightly smacked Remus’ knee, leaning in a bit closer, grinning at him as he did. “I thought we weren’t doing Truth and Dare for eleven year olds!”

“This whole game is for eleven year olds,” Remus smirked back at him.

The bottle kept getting spun over and over again, and miraculously never landed on Remus again. He was laughing with everyone, having loads of fun; but he mostly cared for the moments when Sirius would lean in, far closer than necessary by some standards, to whisper a joke that only Remus could understand.

“They’re still not back?” Remus glanced around the common room while Frank was accepting a dare to smell five people’s armpits.

“Who?” Sirius followed his gaze distractedly for a split second. “Oh, our two closest, best friends in the world, yeah…”

“It’s good that you have nice hair,” Remus bobbed his head with mock gravitas. “At least you have that to offer to the world…”

“You think I have nice hair?” Sirius asked with a strange mixture of eagerness and sheepishness.

“Speaking of our friends,” Remus slowly peeled his eyes off Sirius’ face, letting them roam around the circle of people they were a part of as he spoke. “They’ve been leaving you out this year, haven’t they? You’ve only had, what? Four detentions?” He looked back at the black haired boy who, for a moment, seemed to have been hypnotised.

“I’ve been busy, I don’t have time for detention this year,” Sirius’ features fell seamlessly into a relaxed smirk.

“Oh god. What are you plotting now?”

“You’ll find out…” Sirius answered vaguely just before their conversation was cut short by someone having spun the bottle and landed on him.

“Truth or dare?” Another one of the fourth year girls with waist-length, silky-smooth hair batted her lashes at SIrius none too subtly.

“Dare, of course.”

“Alright,” she smirked and then exchanged looks with her three quietly giggling friends. “Snog anyone in the circle for thirty seconds. You can choose any person. As long as they’re okay with it.”

“Alright,” said Sirius as he mirrored the girl’s smile; she and her friends, as well as a couple other people, all seemed to be bursting with anticipation. “Remus…”

Remus didn’t register the sound of his name at first, having suddenly lost all interest in the game. He had no desire to watch Sirius snog anyone. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything else that he didn’t want to do more than that. He gave a little jolt and looked over his shoulder, assuming that Sirius needed him to move out of the way to get to the person he was going to kiss. He could see the confusion that he felt reflected in a handful of the faces among the group. “Yes?” Remus looked over at Sirius again. Great, he thought, front row seat...

“Are you okay with it?”

“Okay...with what?”

Sirius gave him an unamused look, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, as if asking him to quit playing dumb. The smile tugging at his lips was nothing short of charming, but there was an ounce of bashfulness in it too. “You can say no…”

“No. I mean...I’m okay with it,” Remus stammered, his heart suddenly beating so hard that it was knocking all air out of him.

“Alright then,” Sirius turned himself on the spot, still cross-legged, to face Remus.

At a loss of what to think, say, or do, Remus mirrored his movements so that their knees touched as they looked at each other. “Let’s make it five,” Sirius mumbled feebly and placed his hands on Remus’ knees as he started leaning in.

Remus had momentarily gotten lost in his head, trying to figure out how he got to be there, in that moment. He looked into Sirius’ eyes as he felt his own upper body gravitate towards him. There was only a ghost of a smile crossing Sirius' face now; he seemed tense, on tenterhooks almost. And yet, there didn’t seem to be any hesitation in his movements as he closed the gap between them.

This time, Remus was getting lost in a kiss. This kiss felt nothing like the mundane fifth that it should have been by all accounts; this kiss tasted like the sweetness and the yearning of the very first and the very last one too. 

* * *

Sirius couldn’t remember ever being happier than he was in that moment; feeling Remus’ eyelashes flicker against his, the barely-there stubble on Remus’ chin lightly grazing his skin as their lips danced and their mouths breathed magic in each other. He wished he didn’t have to stop kissing Remus after thirty seconds - and, unless he was sorely mistaken, it didn’t seem like Remus was in any hurry to pull away when someone finally announced the end of their half a minute of bliss.

When Sirius opened his eyes, his hands still planted on Remus’ thighs, he couldn’t - and didn’t try to - keep a giddy smile at bay. “I knew you’d taste like chocolate,” he said quietly.

Remus’ face glowed red but he was smiling back at Sirius. “Interesting thing to spend your days thinking about.”

“Oi! Black! It’s your go,” Frank leaned over to push the bottle towards him.

Sirius tore his eyes off Remus’ face slowly, reluctantly. He grabbed the bottle, spun it again, and just as it was slowing down, a panting Peter showed up.

“I’m so sorry, lads! I thought I’d never get out of Filch’s sad dungeon! He was threatening to keep me scrubbing armours until midnight… Oh! Truth or Dare!?” Peter asked excitedly and, without waiting for an answer, plopped down to sit right between Sirius and Remus.

Mere minutes after that, James and Lily came back with a three tier chocolate cake (the house elves had been making them bigger every year). Some players from their circle dispersed around the common room, others stayed to raise butterbeer bottles in a toast to Remus’ birthday. Big slices of the cake were being passed around and people were chattering and laughing, and talking to Moony and wishing him a happy birthday; hugging him and patting him on the back. It seemed like all of a sudden, everyone needed to be in his immediate vicinity; all while Sirius desperately wanted to cling to that one, now seemingly fleeting, moment of happiness.

He found himself perched up on the armrest of a chair, his fingers loosely wrapped around a cold bottle, his mind wandering, watching Remus deep in conversation with Marlene from afar. It made Sirius nothing short of ecstatic, seeing him smiling and laughing so much. But he also felt a selfish gnaw of bitterness - the whole night was rushing by and he just didn’t seem to find a good enough moment to steal Remus away and tell him about all that time he had indeed spent thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

“Hey…” A soft voice startled him out of his daydreaming and Lily sat down on the other armrest of the same chair. “Those two boys were fighting over this,” she lifted the same book that Remus had gotten rid of earlier that night, “but...I don’t think they wanted to have it, I think they were both trying to get rid of it… Anyway,” Lily shook her head, relaxing her frown. “It says ‘To Remus, with love, Aunt Davina’ right here, on the title page,” she held up the open book.

A genuinely tickled chuckle escaped Sirius’ lips. “Evans, I don’t think he’s interested in charming witches.”

“You don’t? Oh, okay. Good. I mean, this is pure rubbish, anyway…” Lily tossed the book straight into the fireplace, causing a little cloud of ash to rise up.

Sirius looked at her with a curious smile, quirking an eyebrow at the unexpected act of delinquency. “I always thought you were a bit of a prissy know-it-all, Evans, but just in the last few months you managed to completely shatter that image in my eyes.”

“Charming.”

“That was a compliment.”

“Explains why you’re single.”

“How dare you,” Sirius let out a dramatic gasp, making Lily laugh.

“Alright, I shall leave you to it then,” she said, getting up.

“To what, Evans?” 

“To lovingly gazing at Remus, of course,” she flashed Sirius a grin before disappearing on the other side of the common room.

He started drowning in his thoughts, almost immediately, his eyes landing on Remus once again, catching his beaming eyes dart away just then. The past couple of weeks had been so different, so impalpably lovelier than the ones before. Sirius had noticed Remus flirting back a lot more readily and sitting a lot closer than necessary. There were so many other, smaller things that excited Sirius and made him feel giddy with possibilities. And he knew - he had known for a while - that he needed to tell Remus how he felt about him. He needed to tell Remus he was in love with him.

[rpbetter]

Hey there, check out this pinned post first!

Thanks for visiting Roleplay Better, where I believe that you can fucking do better! That kind of language, however, is why it is important for you to read this post before proceeding.

This blog and its posts are meant for an adult RPing audience; be over legal, adult age in the USA, 18+. Do not interact by submitting, asking, reblogging, commenting, or liking unless you are over eighteen years of age. By interacting with RPB or me, Vespertine, you are assumed to be following this rule. If you are breaking this rule, you will be blocked.

I have that rule because this blog can/will/does address topics inappropriate for a younger audience. Those can include, but are not limited to:

not safe for work - violence, injury, sexual language, smut, substance use

“dark topics” and themes like violence, unhealthy relationships, mental illness, trauma, graphic injury, dubious consent, substance use, and so forth addressed realistically

foul, sexual, and otherwise “Adult” language

 unpopular opinions and approaches about writing, RP, fandoms

“negativity” since literally anything can be, and my whole point here isn’t about holding back; it is likely that, at some point, in some post or another, a shoe will fit you-you need to be mature enough to handle that without taking it as a personal attack on you

images and links that may contain things inappropriate for a younger audience

this blog is founded upon the idea that fiction has reflections in reality, but that fiction does not utterly equate to reality. You should write with realism, your characters should be people in their own right, and you should absolutely be addressing many popular topics responsibly, which is to say realistically. I do not support or otherwise condone purity culture, so while realism is a big deal here, fiction = reality arguments are a no

seriously, you have no idea how fucking salty I am! I try to be fair, reasonable, and mellow with everyone, but it can and does come out.

This blog tags for common, major triggers, but it is not for those easily triggered or particularly sensitive. By proceeding, you take responsibility for yourself...like a mature adult. I expect you to utilize blacklist, unfollow, and block. Tag format is simple, it is literally just the word in most cases, with “cw” and “tw” added to particularly common things. Example, a post containing a breakdown of forms of dubcon will be tagged #dubcon #dubious consent. If that was specifically of a sexual nature, since tumblr is unfriendly to using Not Safe For Work now, I will be using #notsafe for sexual topics. In the event that this needs to change, it will be posted about, the previous tag left intact, so that you may update your blacklist.

You are always welcome to send me an ask or private message requesting a particular trigger be tagged for you. I try to check blogs I see following, especially if I follow back, so that I can tag what you require. However, I’m a person, I’m an ND, ill, busy person though, I do make mistakes!

If you find yourself desirous of telling me to tag in a hateful way, don’t. You will not be responded to with an apology and kindness. Do not be rude, it’s uncalled for when informing someone of a problem or making a request.

I will run the blog largely on a queue, and will not be following many people back. This is not personal! I just like to try to provide content at many different times, have a life elsewhere, and I am so happy that you love your fandom, but it might not be something I’ve enough interest in to have on my dash.

Don’t tumblr message me. Use the inbox or submit.

Due to recent events, I am changing this rule. It’s hard for me to receive messages unexpectedly, and I hate to imply that I’ll be able to get to these quicker because it isn’t the truth. Quicker, better responses come from the inbox. However, there have been too many incidents lately in which people needed to speak privately and had to make that a request. If you’re having a problem and need to vent, request sensitive advice, etc.? It’s alright, go ahead and drop me a PM, y’all. I’ll get back to you as soon as I am able. Please, do not be angry with me if I respond to inbox things or my queue is running! You’re important to me, I just might not have the requisite social cognition and energy you deserve at that time.

Aggressive inbox messages will be responded to in kind. I don’t care if you are on anon or not, if you haven’t an ounce of polite communication skills, I won’t have them either. This is not a “we don’t publish anon hate” blog.

I highly encourage asks and submissions on any and all RP topics, and it’s perfectly alright to be salty as fuck in them, you can totally vent here, but don’t take out your frustration on me or be demanding of me. I am always happy to help with information, advice, or just a response to your venting-it’s important to know someone is listening. However, it may take me a few days to a week to get to you, be patient. 

If you are going to vent, leave out usernames. This isn’t a callout or burnbook blog. It’s fine to state characters and fandoms, but if this becomes a problem, it’ll have to change. I don’t want this becoming a salt blog for one or two fandoms I very likely can’t even stand. Practice the fine art of alluding to things, its good experience for your writing! Besides, RPC problems are RPC problems, I promise. It might feel like it’s just your fandom, but there is something relatable in all corners.

I will not overly police comments. Keep the slurs and shit out of it, though. If there is an issue going on pertaining to a serious instance of hate speech, or behavior I, personally, deem as too inappropriate and/or immature to be taking place on my post, I will step in. Otherwise, I expect everyone to be adults in the comments and reblogs too. If you want to argue with each other, that’s your business. If you want to argue with me, I’m not sorry in advance.

Addition to the above: this is not a blog in which it will be tolerated that commentators or those submitting with the URLS are targeted for callouts, shaming, or other instances of bullying. No, I cannot make those people stop bothering you by blocking them, but the least I can do is address that by shutting down their access to this blog and it’s posts by blocking on the URLs I have for them. And I will. Fuck that “we can’t be responsible for” shit. It’s my blog, it’s my content I’m putting out there, I’m not going to just ignore shit like what went down over on COAR, thanks. Not. Cool.

This is definitely not a place for:

people who think giving muses labels, including top/bottom “dynamics,” is a good substitute for character traits, personality, and development

those with no reading comprehension skills

folks dependent upon aesthetics and aesthetics-based purple prose as filler for actual writing

anti-original character/just wants to fuck a FC or canon character club, get the fuck out immediately

y’all who see writing as an obstacle to getting down to action, be that smut, drama, or fight scenes...it’s literally a writing hobby

politics, any manner of phobe or ism, violent/non-inclusive feminists, purity/rpc/fandom/content police of any manner, and exactly any manner of racism, sexism, or religious intolerance - I give not a shit if it’s popular to hate the straights, for example, I neither believe in nor tolerate reactionary classifying of any group as blanket-statement evil

people who are going to tack onto my posts shit like, “it’s okay, OP, you can say x character.” Trust me, if I were talking about one character, I fucking would name drop them, don’t bring me into your fandom drama, I doubt I know or want to know who that anime guy is who looks like 12 other anime guys to me.

About Vespertine

You can call me that, Vespertine. I’d rather you didn’t go with Vesper, but as it is unfortunately so likely to happen, I won’t feed you to the dogs over it either. RPB Mun is also acceptable.

I’m alright with either she/her or he/him, they/them is also fine. Apparently, that was big enough clue-in for the poor reading comp crowd, so while I feel it is not of importance, I’m nonbinary, yes.

Late 30′s, chronically ill but still working adult with neurodivergence. I’m both busy and Busy, and always sick. This limits my brain power and ability to be here. I have an active RP blog that I won’t be sharing to keep responsible distance. That is always going to be my priority, it is my primary hobby.

Please, don’t tumblr message me totally random things if we don’t have that kind of relationship! I’m too ill and busy, and it really fucks my nerves to have a bunch of messages/have to suddenly interact socially with people. Don’t do it. Use my inbox, use the submit, comment on posts. I cannot do random messages of “hey” and so forth.

I only do written RP, don’t expect me to understand much of anything from tabletop. I’ve RPed for the last 23 years consistently, on every platform from AOL chats to forums to messengers and here. I also don’t do RP in discord, so I’m sorry, but I can’t advise you much on anything with a word count, except to stop it for serious RP. Other than that, I promise you that I’ve seen the trends, the drama, the fandoms. I can give a lot of advice and perspective on a wide range of topics, situations, and characters! When I don’t have a clue at all, I’ll try to do enough research to give you an answer.

Do I come off as a horrible, strict asshole? I do! I’m not going to say that I am just a shy bean who is more scared of you than you are me. I’m not. I’m honestly feral, but have common decency, compassion, and sense. All of which are lacking in the general RPC. So, if you can inbox/common/otherwise interact with anyone else on this site, you can totally handle me!

Honesty and openness are policies.

And in the spirit of that, I repeat; you can fucking do better, tumblr RPC!

[ladyanput]

Dousing The Fire

Did I stay up until 1am writing this? I most certainly did. This is set just after Damian and Marinette left for their date in Chapter 2 of 'Seeing Green'

Alright, here's a warning for crude language, and tons and tons of Miraculous Salt. Enjoy.

~

At twenty-three years old, Evangeline Bourbon had seen her fair share of things. She had grown up with only her father, who spent more time down at the bar with his buddies, than raise his only child. Growing up around a drunk of a father, you learn not to put up with shit real fast.

He hadn't been abusive, he kept a stable job… He just seemed to prefer the bottle to being with his daughter, so she had been alone often. Evangeline grew up in Canada, in an Acadian town. She had kept good grades, she studied her ass off to learn French, and to complete her education degree, so that she could teach. She hoped her father would be proud then. But he simply went back to guzzling down his beer, as his friends around him drunkenly congratulated her.

So she moved to a different town, she had gotten a job at a Catholic school, as a TA, and a nun there had kindly suggested trying to go to France for a year, to strengthen her French. The lycée she had applied to  had been more than willing to bring her aboard.

Her first impression of Miss Caline Bustier was that she was a pretty, kind, and  very accepting woman. She had looked forward to learning from her, since she had been raised to stay with her original homeroom class, all the way up to their last year of school! She must have been such an amazing teacher!

How foolish she had been to believe that.

The class had not given a good first impression. As soon as the Canadian woman had said where she was from, Lila had perked up, then given her a wide smile.

"I'm very good friends with Monsieur Trudeau and his daughter, Elenore. She is such a little cutie pie, I'm like the big sister she's never had, so just adores me because she's an only child." She cooed, and the class around her praised her for knowing such a person as the Prime Minister of Canada, and going on about how handsome he was. Miss Bourbon merely raised an eyebrow.

"Mister Trudeau has three children, miss Rossi, and none of them are named Elenore." She crossed her arms, noting how Lila's green eyes narrowed in fury. Nothing had gone right after that, between her and the class. If she messed up on her French, they'd mock her. If she told Caline, she'd be told to grow up, that she's a teacher and needs to set an example.

Well she had almost taken that advice, until she had seen Marinette. Seen how isolated she was, seen how abandoned she was by her own friends. One look into those large blue eyes, void of light, and she had put her foot down. Now she'd do anything for Marinette, they had grown more into friends that a teacher's assistant and a student. And it made her very protective, especially when that boy from Wayne Enterprises has asked Mari out on a date.

Eva glanced out the elevator doors, smiling as she watched Marinette and Damian head towards the exit, eager for that first date. He seemed like a nice young man, and he had gotten the memo fast that if Mari got hurt, he'd find her shoe shoved when the sun don't shine.

When she got back to her room, she found Caline sitting on one of the beds, flipping through a magazine.

"The young man seems nice. I made sure he'd have Marinette back by nine thirty." Eva spoke as she went to her own bed, frowning as she was met in silence. She turned to the teacher, hands on her hips. "Caline, you could be a bit more concerned."

Miss Bustier glanced up, then gave her TA a patient smile, as if she were giving her the world with that one smile. Eva felt her blood pressure spike.

"Marinette will be just fine. There's no reason to be so concerned about her, she wanders off on her own all the time back in Paris. Honestly, Eva, you need to learn to not be so uptight about things." Caline shrugged and went back to her magazine.

"Yeah, but this isn't Paris, now is it? Might I remind you that we are in Gotham city? One of the crime capitals of America? Where a lot of people go missing and are never found? No, because that would take some actual fucking thinking in your part, now wouldn't it?" Eva snarled at her, as she took her dark hair out of its bun. Caline was on her feet in seconds, fury flaring in her eyes.

"You watch your tone with me. Why are you like this, so confrontational? You really need to stop being so confrontational, Miss Bourbon, or I think I will have to report you to the department of education." Caline took hold of Eva's arm, blinking in surprise as Eva began to laugh.

"Oh please, Caline, you don't have any fucking power in that school. I'm not one of your bullied students you can gaslight into being quiet and take the punches, until they want to die. Because that plan works so fucking well, it certainly worked with Chloe, didn't it?" She didn't miss Caline's flinch. "You didn't even do a head count this morning. I was nice enough to head out early this morning to Wayne Enterprises, to make sure they had everything set up for us, so that you could sleep in a bit and enjoy a class that no one fucking ever wants to teach, and you leave one of your students behind.

"You ever wonder why you were moved up a grade with that class of yours? Moved from Dupont to the lycée. While the department fed you bullshit about you being 'such and outstanding teacher, shaping the lives of many bright futures', in truth, no one wants to teach that fucking class. You have a class full of idiot assholes, who go and attack anyone who says that their precious Lila Rossi is lying, especially that Alya. They're like a bunch of rabid dogs that no one wants to touch, so they keep you with them. I think that's just making it worse, because you encourage this behaviour. Marinette is suffering, because her friends all believe Lila's lies, and you swallowed the bullshit about Lila having a condition that forces her to lie."

"Miss Bourbon, I know you have never seen Lila in the best of lights, but-"

"I nearly lost my job because of her! I nearly had the police on me, because she was spreading rumours that I slept with one of my male students back in Canada, got caught, and ran here to hide out. Thank fuck that the principal in the lycée isn't letting you suck his dick, like the one at DuPont, and had enough common sense to look into my job history. I taught at a girl's only prep school. And when this lie came to life, you didn't fucking punish her, you let it all stew!" Eva felt like tearing her hair out. Caline seemed scandalized, but it obviously wasn't clicking for her. "I'm not saying you're entirely to blame here. Lila's mother really needs to see through her daughter's lies. Alya really needs to learn to actually do resource checking, to hold back her pride, and take lessons on being a better friend, who doesn't toss her friend aside, because something shiny and new came along. Most of your class needs to really smarten up and get over themselves. They obviously believe these lies, because they don't want to admit they were wrong. Nobody likes appearing that they were wrong. But fuck, you need to get off of your high horse and be an actual teacher. Akumatizations happen all the time, they'll keep happening, because people get mad, they're human. But if you don't fix this, what will you do when Marinette finally gets akumatized?"

"Marinette? No, she'd never get akumatized. She is an example to her classmates, she's never even attracted an akuma, she.." Caline seemed shaken from all that had spewed from Eva's mouth. No, none of it could be true. She loved her class, she helped them thrive, helped them all become friends. She was a good teacher, Eva didn't know what she was talking about.

"You honestly believe that? Out of the entire class, only Marinette, Adrien, and myself have not been akumatized. I'm not worried about Adrien, he's so spineless, I doubt he'd ever actually get mad. But if you don't help me change this class, you're all going to push her towards that akumatization." Evangeline felt drained, taking a seat on her bed. She shook her head once more. "Please, Caline, before it's too late."

Caline Bustier was quiet for a long time, before she reached over and patted Eva on the head, similar to how one would pat a dog.

"Miss Bourbon, while I appreciate your… Passionate, though very inappropriate outburst, you don't know my students like I do. Marinette has been acting out for a few years now, obviously scared of this change in dynamic. But Lila can't help the disease she has, and Marinette needs to see through her. Some are just stubborn to change. And you must really work on that temper of yours before we get back to Paris. I wouldn't want you to get akumatized." Caline smiled that kind smile she always wore.

"Oh fuck you. You know what? Fine! I'm not wasting my breath in you anymore, I'm getting a drink!"  Eva got to her feet, grabbing her purse as she stormed out of the hotel room and back to the elevator. Why? Why did everyone in that stupid class have to be so blind and stubborn? 

Once the elevator doors slid shut, she leaned back against the wall, and took a deep, shaky breath, tears flooding her eyes, but she didn't once let them fall. 

She just didn't care anymore about the class. If any of them finally saw through the lies, she'd go to bat for those kids, just like she did for Mari. But for now, she'd wash her hands of them. Why try putting out a fire that Miss Bustier kept dousing with fuel, afterall?