#because how dare shows be made for reasons other than profits

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Random HC's That I Probably Overexplain - Cater Edition 1!

TW: Angst heavy, using kids for profit via social media, emotional/physical abuse (nothing explicit/gory) His mom was a family life vlogger. I've dabbled on this topic a few times before, but never got really into it. His mom ran a channel called the "Beloved Diamond Family", in which his mother went by Dreamy Diamond, and his older sisters went by Dazzling and Ditzy Diamond. He was "Daring Diamond" or sometimes just called "Little Gem/Diamond". "Daddy Diamond" was never around, but his mom sometimes went on rants about him on camera. They rarely made it onto the channel though. Part of the reason the Diamonds moved so much is because of his dad's work, but the other part was because of how much information his mom would divulge and put her kids in danger. Cater's dad did his best to protect his kids from the consequences of her actions, but couldn't get ahead of them. Cater was the star of many of the videos, as he was the baby and everyone wanted to see more of him. He hated being made to do everything that his mom said, or repeating the actions a hundred times until he got it "perfect", but the comments of other parents telling him how much their kids loved him and whatnot was enough to keep him going. It's also why he's so attached to his phone now and a big part of why he just keeps up the facade. To be caught at a less than picture perfect moment or with a subpar reaction at this point scares him. Irrationally, he worries about his mothers reaction, and because he's never really been to school for long enough to make friends, he has to act the only way he knows how and hope that people keep liking the show he puts on. A lot of the videos were pretty fluffy, happy videos, but Ms. Diamond would do anything for views, and did put out videos of Cater sobbing over his dead pet, about him breaking his arm on his skateboard, and a lot of her "prank" videos that were mostly just endangering her kids or trying to prove her husband was cheating. (At one point she did a "slip and slide" in the kitchen and called Cater over to try some of her cookies. He couldn't have been more than five or six, so he came running in excited and ended up in urgent care. All the scars and marks he got from his moms wacked out ideas have been carefully hidden under makeup and magic for years now, but sometimes he doesnt have the energy to cover them up on his clones). Obviously, none of the Diamond kids were off very well, but when they were "too big to be cute anymore" his mom kind of let the channel die out and became a more severe alcoholic. However, when her channel started to pick up traction again years later, Ms. Diamond decided to keep her channel going with behind the scenes clips and telling stories about her kids while mildly tipsy. She didn't tell her kids she was going to do this, and now that they're all 18 and over they want to stop her, but don't want to cause more drama from her. Cater's bigger sister wants to take her to court for everything she's done, but Cater and his eldest sister just want to ignore it and sweep it under the rug like nothing is going on because it hurts too much to revisit the things they used to have to do. Cater's mom is...a BoyMom. Like she is Not Normal about her son to a creepy uncomfortable extent and Cater doesn't know how to deal with it, he mostly tries to break contact with her, but she is relentless and a master guilt tripper. He had been looking forward to his 18th birthday to officially disown her or put a restraining order on her, but never had the heart to actually do it, because...it is his mom, and family never abandons each other unless you want to be a piece of shit, right? (This is not serious, please, if you have family that doesn't treat you well don't be afraid to leave if you can)

[vexcraft]

pilot scar stuff because i really like the new skins :D hc for his arm from here! (can also be read on ao3 here)

freedom of flight

Sitting on a little stool beside his small plane had become a common pastime for Scar.

To the people who didn’t know much about planes or aviation, it seemed impressive - a young man proudly sitting next to a machine many of them had only ever heard of. To the people that did know, it wasn’t nearly as exciting. 

Scar wouldn’t say it was a miracle that his plane could still stay in the air, no, that would be very concerning and unsafe, but it had definitely seen better days. Sure, it looked a little rough, and sometimes made weird sounds when he tried to start the engine, but generally it was fine! 

The people who did know something about these things sounded more impressed by the part that Scar had a plane in the first place - even if it was a piece of junk to them - rather than the plane itself. Even if their compliments sounded more condescending and backhanded than encouraging, Scar liked to focus on the positive. 

Which was the coins people would sometimes drop into the little tin he kept on the ground in front of his little set-up. It wasn’t much, but when he didn’t have any jobs, it was good money.

(He had quickly learned that looking pretty and proper while he told his overexaggerated stories from adventures he hadn’t really even had yet was much more profitable than looking like the technically homeless street kid he actually was. Well, he wasn’t exactly a kid anymore, and he did have a roof over his head, even if it was the plane’s.)

Most of his jobs followed the same pattern: either deliver something or pick something up.

His location was very convenient. The town he mainly stayed at wasn’t that big, but it was right on the coast, and for whatever reason, people had a lot of business in the cities on the other side of the ocean. Sailing by boat took a good while, traveling along the coast by train even longer - it simply wouldn’t work if you needed to be quick.

So he spent his days crossing the ocean with whatever cargo he happened to have with him at that time and when he didn’t, he would hang out near the edge of the town and show off his plane while telling made-up or dramatized stories to whoever was willing to listen in the hopes they would toss him a few coins.

It was nice. He didn’t make that much money - he didn’t dare to charge much more than what a trip’s fuel would cost, which was already more than most were willing to pay and he really didn’t want to scare away all of his customers - but money had never been the most important thing to him anyway. He just really loved to fly. How free it made him feel, no longer bound to the ground.

Today was unusual - for the first time in a good while he would get to fly with someone.

While his plane did fit two people, it was rare he would actually fly someone somewhere. For whatever reason, the people who had the money for that tended to fly with people who had a little... fancier planes, even if it was much more expensive.

From the corner of his eye, Scar could see someone cautiously approaching him, though he didn’t know if it was his passenger or a curious bypasser - the man who had paid for the trip had just told him it was for a relative who would show up on their own on the day they had decided for the trip. As long as Scar got his money, he didn’t really pry for details.

Pretending to scrub a stain on the side of the plane that wasn’t really a stain at all, it was rust, and would not budge from scrubbing, Scar waited to see if the stranger would pass. When they didn’t, he decided to speak up. 

“You looking for something?” he asked as he turned around, now facing a young black-haired man who was holding a small suitcase in his hand.

Scar took in his appearance. Neat clothes, but nothing too fancy or expensive-looking. Everything was clean, and looked just a tad higher quality than casual clothes around here usually were. He knew what that meant: money. Real money too - rich people seemed to prefer quality over the flashiness people who didn’t have much money but wanted to look rich usually went for.

“A man named Scar,” the stranger replied, though as soon as the words left his mouth he seemed to realize he had just found who he had been looking for. The scarred skin of his face didn’t leave much to question.

“That would be me!” Scar announced cheerfully. The stranger, his passenger apparently, didn’t seem quite as happy about this discovery, a deep frown visible on his face. “Who are you?”

The man blinked at him. “Cub,” he said slowly. “You’re the pilot?” he asked, clearly scanning Scar’s appearance. His gaze lingered on his mechanical arm for a moment. “I was expecting someone… a bit older.”

From the way the man, Cub, was eyeing his plane, Scar could tell he had something to say about it too, but he decided to remain quiet. How polite of him.

“Yeah?” Scar raised an eyebrow, amused. It wasn’t the first time someone questioned his professionalism because of his age. He wasn’t even that young really, well into his twenties at this point. “You look like you could be younger than me.”

He only realized that didn’t come out as flattering as age-related comments usually did with his older customers when Cub grimaced slightly. To be fair, he did look around Scar’s age, not necessarily younger but definitely not much older either. Maybe that was a sore point then! He was quite a bit shorter than Scar, now that he thought about it…

“So you can take me to the other side of the ocean?” Cub asked, deciding to not linger on Scar’s miserably failed attempt at flattery. “On that thing?” he gestured to the plane with none of the appreciation in his voice that the plane in Scar’s opinion deserved.

“Hey! ‘That thing’ is my very dear plane and it flies with no problem!” Scar pretended to be offended. He didn’t really care that much - so far all the doubters he had met had ended up being impressed once the job was done. “Nothing has ever seriously gone wrong!”

Neither of them mentioned that ‘serious’ was a somewhat subjective term that they both certainly had very different meanings for, nor that if something big had gone wrong, Scar would not be here to tell the tale. The lack of his left arm was not really helping his case either. Whether the fact that he was here said something about his skill or luck was up to someone else to decide.

Cub seemed to grumble something to himself that Scar couldn’t hear and didn’t bother to ask about - he could learn his fair share about his passenger during the flight if he was willing to chat. 

“You ready to go?” Scar asked instead, climbing on his stool to grab the spare helmet from the second seat of the plane and throwing it to Cub. He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh when a noise of surprise escaped Cub and he accidentally let go of his suitcase as he hurried forward to catch the helmet.

There was one thing Scar was sure of - after this, Cub would appreciate his little plane a whole lot more.

[lediz-watches]

Helluva Boss

How dare you make me feel things, you stupid crude show about bad people doing bad things.

So because I have become cautiously obsessed with Hazbin Hotel, and you cannot go anywhere near that fandom without also having to hear about Helluva Boss (and specifically Fizzarolli), I watched a few episodes. And then binged almost the whole thing in an afternoon. And by episode seven, I literally did say, out loud, “How DARE you” at my TV screen.

So suffice it to say I’m impressed, and I was, once again, wrong about a thing.

For people not online or who, like me, just ignored it, Helluva Boss is a youtube animated series about four creatures that live in Hell and run an assassination agency. Literally nothing about that interested me, which is why I’ve been ignoring it when it appeared on my various feeds. But what it’s really about is finding healthy emotional connections with other people despite your emotionally damaging past. And that is entirely my jam, so I am not surprised to find I love it.

But anyway. Let’s start with why I was so horrendously wrong about this series to begin with.

I watched the first episode and a half a while back, and stopped watching halfway through the second episode because it just wasn’t clicking with me. Blitzo’s character annoyed me, and I don’t like watching bad people do bad things. And it was obvious Moxxie wasn’t the main character, despite his character being something I would have liked to have watched. I like shows about hope and family and personal triumphs and other such positive outcomes. The first episode and a half of Helluva Boss is about evil little creatures running an assassination agency in Hell and bitching at each other constantly while their boss carries on a toxic relationship with one of the elite for profit.

But what I should have noticed, in that second episode, is an exchange that not only made me laugh, but has stuck in my brain ever since:

“I’ll pay you~!”

“Pay me what?”

“Money~!”

I still don’t know what about it got through my wall of distaste, because in context it’s not that great. But I think it’s actually very representative of the show’s layers. It’s using sex to make a joke that has nothing to do with sex. It’s freaking vaudevillian!

On the surface, the show is crude and stupid. It appears to go for cheap jokes, and thinks that swearing is funny, and sex is everything, but none of that is true. The show is lying to you from the outset, and it’s…. remarkably upfront about that fact. So much so that you assume it must be a double-blind until it sucker punches you right in the feels.

The swearing, the violence, the crudeness… that’s all just set dressing. That’s the stage, the environment. And it took me until the end of an episode called C.H.E.R.U.B. to realise that, because as I watched Millie and Moxxie make out as they rained violence and carnage on an entirely innocent theatre, I acknowledged I was still grossed out, but that was more about the animation than what was actually happening (I also just never need to see tongues intertwining. I don’t). I realised that I was otherwise cheering them on entirely. And when the C.H.E.R.U.B.s got denied entrance back into Heaven, I was like “…yeah, justified, you arrogant jerks.”

(Except the goat kid. The goat kid should’ve been given another chance.)

Because in the world that the show had created, in the stage and the environment, the reality crafted… the imps were justified. Are justified. They’re doing perfectly reasonable jobs and taking perfectly reasonable actions within the reality they live in.

And even the people who aren’t nice or good, like Blitzo and Luna, the show doesn’t waste time hiding why they aren’t nice or good people. I don’t need to resort to fanfiction to explore why Blitzo pushes people away or keeps trying to impose himself on his employees’ happy and loving relationship. The show goes out of its way to make it perfectly obvious that he wants that joy and love for himself, without ever taking it away from them, he just doesn’t know how to get it in a healthy way. The show is quite happy to show me that in simple, stark detail, never lingering on it or making it overwrought. These are just facts, and the show is about getting Blitzo to a better place despite the aforementioned set dressing of his whole world.

What I find so impressive is how quickly I just accepted it all. There’s a lot that works together to build the world – the characters, the environment, even the musical numbers. I disliked the “Cotton Candy” song a lot, but damn if it wasn’t exactly what that character and the whole party she was at was about. Most of the time, the world is so logically put together that you don’t even need to explain it. And so the crudeness and violence quickly stop being crude and violent. They’re just part of the world. And you get the hang of what’s acceptable and not, and that enhances the subtleties of the characters’ interactions. It can be very hard to explain, but you know when Blitzo is actually crossing a line, and you know he knows it too. But why that moment was different than the other six times he's done something horrible in the last minute is… complex and difficult and kind of wonderful.

But that makes the emotional hammer throws even more effective. Because you’re skating along, watching the subtleties, enjoying them playing out, and then suddenly Blitzo’s having a very real and beautifully done breakdown on his couch (seriously, screw you Mr Rogers, that hurt my soul) and you remember you’re supposed to be watching a silly cartoon about Hell-demons killing people.

It’s not perfect, of course. The conflicts between characters often don’t land right, because the work hasn’t been done to lead up to them. Blitzo on the couch killed me, but the evening leading up to it and the final confrontation with Stolas seemed clumsy at best.  In hindsight, it was perfectly in character and perfectly fine, but up to that point, the show had not done nearly enough to showcase the power imbalance between Blitzo and Stolas. It still hasn’t, in my opinion. Because as much as I am aware that Stolas is a prince, with power and influence, almost every time we see him, it’s showing how little power he has. He’s weak and helpless, and Blitzo is one of two bright spots in his otherwise miserable life. Compare Blitzo, who is running his own startup quite capably, is dexterous, athletic, a great shot, apparently good in bed, appears incredibly confident (even if we know it’s a lie), and has Stolas wrapped around his finger. That’s what the show has shown me. The power imbalance appears balanced by the personalities behind it. They should have had a few more scenes showing us Blitzo feels like he’s at Stolas’s beck and call, rather than the other way around. They should have shown us more of him feeling pressured. His complaints, to this point, felt like excuses and pride, not genuine discomfort. So that whole conflict kind of… just… didn’t land.

And similarly… the politics in general. Not to compare franchises, but the Hazbin Hotel pilot, in ten minutes, set up everything that I think I will need to know about the politics of the Pride Ring: Lucifer is King and probably incredibly powerful, but the sinners do not give the slightest damn about that. They fight amongst themselves, and all that really matters is who commands the most power and the most fear. And then they get slaughtered once a year by the actual power in Hell: Heaven’s killers. Simple. Helluva Boss has… Goetia and the Sins, and apparently there’s some kind of hierarchy between the rings, and the kinds of demons, and sinners are somewhere in that mix as well, and… I’m still not Christian. Still don’t know any of the background reading. I’m very sorry. And none of it has actually been explained to me.

And no, I will not watch the streams or read any Dante to make sense of it.

But because of that, the whole thing in the most recent episode did not hit home for me. Two sins square off, and one of them, Lust, is forced to admit he feels love for his lover. The other, Greed, tells him he’ll regret admitting that. And I’m sorry, I know the fans love that episode, but to me, that was just a bitchy and pathetic comment, not the weighty call-forward that I think it was supposed to be.

Because I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what risk there could be in Lust admitting he feels love. Except his image, and honestly… whatever. As much as the world is Hell, where bad things are normal, the only characters that have actually even implied that love is a bad thing are the Sin of Lust himself and his lover. And yet I’m supposed to think him admitting his hypocrisy is some huge risk? What? Why? Is he going to get demoted? Is Heaven going to complain about him not playing his role? He doesn’t seem worried about that. What is the problem here? I’ve only even met this guy like three times, why do I even care what happens to him?

I mean, I worship at the altar of James Munroe Inglebert’s charisma too, but come on. Give me some stakes before you ask me to care about them!

I think that actually encapsulates why I struggled to finish the second episode. Helluva Boss is a great show, and Blitzo is an incredibly compelling character, and I want to see his story. I love Millie and Moxxie. I like Luna. I like Stolas. Fizzarolli is overhyped but I really did like his storyline and how it played out. But the first couple of episodes… they do not at all set up the show they’re introducing. They set up a wild and wacky show about Hellish creatures being vitriolic best buds while committing mayhem. And, I mean… yeah, but… also… really… no. No, not at all.

So.

So… like…

What?

How dare you make me care, and… what are you trying to make me care about now? What?

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

I know I should stop using fb watch so much, considering that so many of the videos are there to induce negative reactions and make you angry, and some vids are also incredibly irrelevant to me.... like real estate for example.

so sometimes, I get this snooty american real estate agent who sells to luxury buyers in god-knows-where america. like why the fuck is she in my feed when im a poor baby millennial.... who will NEVER afford a house in AUSTRALIA, let alone the in US????

anyway. the other day, I got a video from this lady in my feed. she was going on about 5 things to NEVER do in a job interview with me at my company. I was like. huh. okay. why not listen as a jobhunter. but whooooo boy, the first point she had was a red flag. she opens the video (honestly, for rage engagement, lbr) with "NEVER act like YOU NEED to interview the interviewer. HOW DARE you question me???? you bring NOTHING to the table if you act like that in MY business!!!! that's a disgusting amount of audacity that you think YOU ARE important enough to question ME, a successful real estate agent who sells luxury house listings in fadaheim florida (I made that up I don't remember where she is). come in and be as subservient as possible, and kiss my ass for the entire interview. do NOT ask me what I bring to the table. I bring it all and you work for me. end of and get out, if you think you NEED to question me. you are scum and need to work for the bare minimum, beg and scrape, before you even level a question at ME. remember I am a FAVOUR by even bothering to interview and consider hiring you. you are doing NOTHING for me."

like. sheesh woman. employers/bosses such as you are the reason that no one trusts employers anymore. why people hop jobs every few years. because who the fuck wants to work for someone who won't answer a simple question like "what's your work life balance like?" or "where do you see this business heading in the next 5 years???" or whatever else. you have no answers except "turning over millions of dollars of profits on million dollar houses and pushing out whoever DARES to question me, the all-knowing god of luxury real estate in florida". is pure audacity, and although I hate using the word, narcissism.

my point is, if you apply for a place like this, run. run for the high hills. you will be so burnt out by the end of it and probably traumatised, that it's the best not sacrificing your mental and physical health. although i know the job market is impossible right now (considering that I applied for a local call centre with the same attitude just 2 weeks ago, but they fucked me around so much woth the over the top anal background check that I didn't even start AT ALL last week (thank god once I got reports from people I know that's its a shit place to work)), that it's basically impossible NOT to take a job like that.

but this woman and people like her are showing their true colours right away. run, run, run. as fast as you can and call yourself the gingerbread man at a hopefully better (not possible really) workplace environment...... than what this woman and people like her will create and perpetuate in toxicity and unhealthy hustle culture bullshit. ALWAYS have the so-called "audacity" to question employers at the end of or throughout your interviews.

[ginevrafangirl]

Who Rules The World Commentary

Several episodes into watching Who Rules The World I created myself a discord channel that is one long thread of my reactions. I didn't keep it up for every reaction and included references to other shows I have seen, but this post shall be a compilation of my favorite comments. There will be SPOILERS!

~

feng lanxi: we should gather our strength, protect our people, and give people ways to raise profits

entire imperial court: how DARE you spout such utter nonsense

bai fengxi's little cloth is basically ruoye but a little less sentient (tgcf reference)

i do not envy hei fengxi being stuck between two badass fucking women thats like my dream throuple

the sixteenth kunlun disciple is such a dick in this show (eternal love reference)

i fucking love feng qiwu so much she is so cool and pretty and smart and capable and a ministerrrrr

my loml feng qiwu accepted that rejection with CLASS

prince chang i was just starting to like you and now you want darling bai fengxi dead / you're such a jiang cheng sometimes istg (mdzs reference)

huang chao has the best outfits of all the men in this show

i hope feng qiwu realizes she does not need a husband, or finds one she deserves. perhaps she should marry loml huang chao. that would be quite the forbidden romance, with jizhou and yongzhou being rival states

i can tell prince chang is about to fall in love with bai fengxi / oh nvm prince chang is about to find out his brother is a sneaky bitch and isnt weak at all

mULAN??

so the reason there are two questions is xerox copies

he named a restaurant after him and the princess, any other drama and they would be the main couple (👀)

the fate of the state rests on HORSES??

is this whole show just gonna be feng lanxi vs lady baili playing games in court?? / where is the jianghu fighting i thought this was gonna be

HUANG CHAO LOOKING GORGEOUS IN PURPLE AND ORANGE

mommy issues, am i right? / this is textbook gaslighting / i made the jiang cheng comparison impulsively but its coming more and more true (mdzs reference)

more than meng yao, i think feng ju is Er Ge from WOH (mdzs and tyk/woh reference)

i want to be half of a power couple with huang chao so bad / i would fully support him being ruler of the world / why shouldn't he be?? / he is strong, sexy, smart, and seems to be protective and caring to those under him / he DESERVES everything

metal chain riding

where did the candles come from??

i can't believe there's this long plotline centered around horses

the fact that she is not crushed by rocks is a fucking miracle rn

i have never seen a faker wound

so feng lanxi easily got past the murder leaves and moving iron chains?

this would be more hard hitting emotionally if we'd seen lanxi struggle with guilt over his mom's death before

this whole arc is just basically that maze in the goblet of fire (harry potter reference)

they mastered it cause they're in love??? lmao so true this sounds like svsss (svsss reference)

it would be hilarious if Yu wuyuan was the secret head of the soul taker sect (👀)

he gets a map and she gets a flower?? / sexism

wow this beautiful good man too good to be true is evil

i trusted ywy cause he acted a lot like xichen (mdzs reference)

rip Lanxi's boys and the amount of stress they're always under because of his double life and running around

any scene where something is fed in a court drama it's very likely to be poison

Lanxi talks a lot and in higher more mischievous tones that LWJ, that'd why I didn't notice until late it was the same voice (cql reference)

what is the deal with the female love interest being compared to the dead mom

baili is trembling with rage during this whole memorial ceremony / like chill, she's dead dude

another fake token! / who's behind all this is obviously wen kexing (tyk/woh reference)

omg he DREW FANART OF THEM

she's secretly smart as fuck and a talented tactician, isn't she? / oh hell yes she's smart and talented

what is it about tortured brothers relationships that attracts me so??

why can't sisters ever get this deliciously complex of a relationship??

good for him that he got her dead though, he won't have to marry her

does it matter that lanxi has a two syllable name due to him being the legitimate son, and the other princes have only a one syllable name?

where is loml jiang yanli?? i miss her / THERE SHE IS (cql reference)

NO / you attacked MY LOML / I HATE YOU NOW / I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ATTACKED JIANG YANLI / FUCK YOU WUYUAN (cql reference)

"we can't be separated" you ain't slick bitch

WE LOVE GAL PALS

OMG THE HEI-BAI IN BLACK???

so this pill captured the sacred Jade Moon?? that makes no sense

okay so ywy needs to take over the world to break his curse / why didn't his family just stop procreating smh

so true he is indeed the third wheel

you know what my new otp is / the polyamourous power throuple that is feng qiwu/bai fengxi/feng lanxi

are they really pretending like they didnt dance with each other knowingly

wowww thats a double identity inside a double identity

i just KNOW he was kicking screaming about all that pda

now this is just an obvious metaphor for his true feelings

NOT HIM ASKING FOR ROMANCE ADVICE FROM ZHONG LI

its similar to war YOU NERD

now what the fuck is this secret society thats the token keepers

how does this tree still have leaves in the winter when its snowin

this fanfic is going on for quite long

my fave feminist gal pals so true

cross dress and frolick

he keeps getting cockblocked by lesbianism

lmaoooo thats porn

feng qiwu is truly the GOAT for helping her crush and bestie get together

omg is feng lanxi going to be set up with snake spirit princess?? (eternal love reference)

how does everyone know everyones business?

heh that fucking clay statue that was definitely not carved by them on the spot

prom? in candles

chuanyu the cockblock

is there really nothing between ms huan and feng ju??

oooo loml huang chao wants to marry the snake spirit princess (eternal love reference)

love me some cgi rain

omg power couple boxing rocks together so true

she is gonna make him take the floor in his own tent

lanxi: giving you the bed last night was worth it / chuanyu: you WHAT

i hope he accepts her secret royal identity as easily as she accepted his

bai fengxi: if you wanna kill the evil guys... i will definitely help you

general REN fuck yeah chuanyu

court politics, military tactics, rogue cultivators (martial arts equivalent), revenge and redemption, enemies to friends to lovers romance

exhibitionist kink?

yeahhh that was pretty obviously drugged

ACTUAL MURDER PRINCESS

divine fairy?? thats such a cool title

omg i feel like she could be a villain in the future but like she is such a girlboss??

they are both such dorks when it comes to love, much unlike loml huang chao and chunran

omg dage wants to give him a shovel talk

bai fengxi is always hungry, she is just like me

chuanyu cockblocking AGAIN

love how they keep calling this chess even though its very clearly not chess

NO LOML HUANG CHAO YOU'RE BEING MANIPULATEDDD

this is a brother vs boyfriend situation for bai fengxi

i love how they havent even confessed to each other properly but her brother is already treating lanxi as her brother in law

PIGGY BACK RIDING IN THE RAIN CAUSE ONLY ONE UMBRELLAAAA

loml feng qiwu should be queen and empress of all

she is a doctor, a fighter, tactician, a cook, she can do anything

they give off major legolas and gimli energy with their fond competitiveness / or pat and pran (lotr and bad buddy reference)

let us gaze fondly at each other as we treat the many sick people of this town

ooooo this new black and gold robe for qiwu is SEXY

bai fengxi's dad: its not serious, my illness is fine / me: yeaaahhh he is deinitely going to die

the only healthy family so far is the bai father and daughter and the royal family of qingzhou

zhong li is so babie its easy to forget he is also very skilled / a wen ning if you will (mdzs reference)

i can recognize the hit sticks by now

Jesus Christ ep 34 was INTENSE / basically guanyin temple levels of end confrontation (mdzs reference)

And that is the end of a subset of my live reactions! I have some more end of show reactions but they don't fit the mood of this post. If you made it until here, congrats! (lemme know if you enjoyed it and would like more as i venture into other shows)

[linafinsterwald192]

So... Blood Origin, eh? (MAJOR SPOILERS)

Mixed feelings, here, honestly. Not chronologically:  What I liked:  1. Meldorf. A lesbian dwarf with a weapon she named after her girl? Not what I thought I needed in my life - I was WRONG. She is adorable, but can definitely pull her own, she is strong both mentally and physically, yet is allowed to cry and is treated just as much of a person as everyone else. Also, she was not reduced to “you’re so short!” jokes, which I, a short person, deeply approve of.  2. The gay couple - Eredin and Brian had such a strong connection in those few minutes that they spent together, they showed love and passion towards each other but also their own wants and concerns - Brian wants to accept the princess’ offer, given that he sees it as a big opportunity, while Eredin is wary, revealing that he doesn’t trust Merwyn further than he can throw her. Honestly, I felt like they had more of a connection than Fjall and Eile but maybe that is because they appeal to me more as characters, too? I don’t know.  3. How Eile was treated as a character. Her skincolour doesn’t matter, she is portrayed as just as much of a person with depth to her (loving Fjall, her strong relationship to Scian, her disrespect for Merwyn...) as everyone else. Similarly, other black characters were just as deep and interesting, had major roles in the show...  4. In general, I think this is representation done well and I was very excited to see that, especially since the movie doesn’t have LGBT/race etc. as a central topic - it’s so casual representation and I love it.  5. I’m bored to death with politics usually, but I did really like it in Blood Origin for some reason 6. I liked almost all characters 7. The sound of the monoliths being activated was so stupidly satisfying 8. The scene in which Merwyn and Fjall meet again - the mismatch of Merwyn wanting a child from him and Fjall being with a bunch of people ready to kill her was hilarious 9. The Black Rose being a constant theme, though a scene or two might have profitted from leaving it out, it did get a bit much after a certain point

What I disliked:  1. Fjall. I don’t know what it is about him but I was not feeling him at all. I also was not feeling the romance between him and Eile, which of course tained my overall perception of the story and made me like it less. Maybe someone else can tell me why I feel nothing towards him?  2. Why would they have Fjall just take the elixier without Eile’s consent when she volunteered for it first? Sounds a bit like betrayal 3. The names. I have to look up all of them and it’s annoying 4. Due to the Jaskier content outside of the show (statements, interviews...) I thought there’d be more of him in the show - I like how they implemented him, don’t get me wrong, but I did hope for more scenes with him, especially since he is one of the strongest connections to the show, a fan favourite and also barely appeared in the main show for an entire season. 5. Something was missing. I struggled with even saying I liked the show, despite the fact that I really do not have high standards, I watch movies and shows all the time and end up liking and praising them while apparently, they’re horrible on all accounts. I don’t know what was missing and what bothered me so much, but it was there.  6. The half-arsed attempt of humour. There was a background character trying to be funny, something with peaches? But they didn’t dare erase them to not be too somber but also didn’t put them into the foreground enough to actually make the show more somber. So glad they didn’t given Jaskier that treatment in the main show, it was honestly...disappointing.  7. I felt like a lot of moments didn’t get time to breathe - Fenrick (the mute woman) alledgedly meant a lot to Sage, but for me, it didn’t realy come through. Same with the moment in which Fjall revealed that there is not, in fact, a secret entrance. I’m not sure if that’s just my preference for slower shows speaking, but I did feel like that was a common occurence for me, which killed part of my enjoyment for the show. 

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Wallflower Wager. By Tessa Dare. Avon, 2019.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Series: Girl Meets Duke #3

Summary: Wealthy and ruthless, Gabriel Duke clawed his way from the lowliest slums to the pinnacle of high society—and now he wants to get even.

Loyal and passionate, Lady Penelope Campion never met a lost or wounded creature she wouldn’t take into her home and her heart.

When her imposing—and attractive—new neighbor demands she clear out the rescued animals, Penny sets him a challenge. She will part with her precious charges, if he can find them loving homes.

Done, Gabriel says. How hard can it be to find homes for a few kittens?

And a two-legged dog.

And a foul-mouthed parrot.

And a goat, an otter, a hedgehog . . .

Easier said than done, for a cold-blooded bastard who wouldn’t know a loving home from a workhouse. Soon he’s covered in cat hair, knee-deep in adorable, and bewitched by a shyly pretty spinster who defies his every attempt to resist. Now she’s set her mind and heart on saving him.

Not if he ruins her first.

***Fullnreview below.***

Content Warnings: graphic sexual content, references to bullying

Overview: I read this book a few weeks ago but forgot to write a review. So here we are. I genrally like Tessa Dare, so I decided to continue on with this series that I started a while back. Overall, this installment didn't wow me as much as some of her other books. While I liked the kind-hearted protagonist, I also felt like Dare could have used her themes better, so for that reason, this book only gets 3 stars from me.

Writing: I don't have much new to say about the prose in this book compared to the prose of Dare's others. It's quick, easy to understand, and balances showing and telling well, all while inserting a lot of Dare's characteristic humor. If I had any criticism, I would say that some of the humor in this book didn't land quite as well for me personally. But your mileage may vary, so don't take my word as gold.

Plot: The non-romance plot of this book follows Gabriel Duke, a rogue who has made his fortune by financially ruining members of the upper class and profiting off their losses. Gabe has recently come into possession of a house in a rather fashionable part of town, and given that it sits next door to a lady's residence, he anticipates it will sell for quite a lot of money.

The lady in question, however, is Lady Penelope Campion - a spinster who uses her property as a haven for dozens of sick, disabled, and otherwise rejected animals. When Penny's aunt gives her an ultimatum on behalf of Penny's brother (get rid of your animals and rejoin fashionable society of you want to stay in London), Penny and Gabe make a pact that is sure to benefit both of them: rehome the animals and not only will Penny get to stay, but Gabe's property will be all the more attractive.

The parts I liked most in this plot were moments when Penny pushed back against Gabe's plans or when Gabe stood up to other people on Penny's behalf. I love an independent heroine with a strong sense of what's right, and I like when heroes with obvious flaws show that disreapecting women isn't one of them.

However, there were also a few things that didn't work for me. For one, Gabe's battle with indoor plumbing felt a little too silly, and I think a lot more could have been done to engage with the idea of modernity in this book. For two, Penny and Gabe seem to rehome the animals way too easily and with very little emotional reaction from Penny, which made them feel less important. For three, the subplot between Hammond (the architect) and Mrs. Burns (the housekeeper) felt a little random and didn't really compliment the main plot.

Characters: Penny, our heroine, is rather easy to like because she is so big-hearted and cares deeply for broken things. While these qualities are good on their own, they are made more endearing once the reader discovers that Penny had a rough upbringing; her soft heart in spite of the troubles she faced is incredibly inspiring, and I loved that she opened herself up to others - not just to Gabe, but to her closest friends.

Gabe, our hero, is a little gruff and stubborn, but he did have moments when that facade cracked. I liked him best in the moments where he defended Penny's right to make her own decisions. His callousness towards the animals did grate on me sometimes, and I think not enough was made of the fact that he tried to hire actors to trick Penny into giving her animals away faster, but it was clear by the end that he came to understand Penny's care, so I guess it was fine in the long run.

Supporting characters were fine, though none of them blew me away. I enjoyed Penny's friendships with the other wallflowers, and the husbands were kind of charming in their fierce loyalty and protectiveness. The only characters that seemed underdeveloped were Hammond and Mrs. Burns; I can't for the life of me decide whether their subplot was inserted for laughs or for something else, but whatever the reason, they felt random and didn't compliment the others at all.

Romance: Gabe and Penny's romance was ok; not my favorite, but not the worst either. I liked that they worked together to achieve the same goal, even if their motivations were different, and I liked that Gabe was constantly torn between his desire for financial gain and his attraction to Penny.

However, I do think Dare could have put more pressure on the thematic connection between Penny's care for rejected animals and Gabe's past. While I did like that Dare didn't overdo this connection, it also felt like a non-issue, and I think more could have been done.

Moreover, I think Gabe abandoned his economic goals a little too quickly, and more inner conflict would have made the romance more angsty. It also would have helped the narrative flow better towards the end, when Gabe shows he hasn't completely abandoned his old ways. I rather liked the end conflict and thought it brought a lot of concerns to a head, but it would have been nice if the lead up was spread more diffusely throughout the rest of the narrative.

TL;DR: Tessa Dare's The Wallflower Wager is charming in some respects, but doesn't quite dig deeply into the themes it introduces. The kind-hearted heroine and fiercely loyal friend group makes this book worth the read, however, even if I personally found the romance to be a bit silly and narratively lacking.

[ot3]

Nothing makes me more violent than people who pull the "why do you care so much about stuff thats for kids, go touch some grass loser" when anyone dares to talk about the animation industry with any amount of sincerity. Not only is it extremely disrespectful to all of the extremely labor intensive and often underpaid work done by countless talented artists, it just feels very cruel to children as well. Like the thought that we shouldn't care about making art for kids good at all because its not worth our time. That just feels so heartless to me. So much content made for kids these days in any mediums, across any platform, is essentially a glorified commercial and it sucks so bad. I think kids should get to have stuff that someone made for them with an end goal other than profit. Telling stories to children, showing them art, the reason we invented these things is to try and help them understand how the world works and how people work. How is it somehow immature or naive to consider art to be a fundamental part of bringing up kids.

[btssunnyboy]

Unbelievable - Choi San

He was always rude to you, embarrassing you in front of everyone. So why is he mad that someone better made you an offer?

Warning - Profanity, mention of caffeine, San is mean as fuck, Yandere towards the end, He makes a threat.

Word Count - 3,362 idk if they will be a part 2!

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ — request open.

__________________________________________

Good god, your blood was boiling the moment you saw his door crack open. You could feel your fingernails digging into your palms as you tried to remain calm. The last thing you needed to do was lose your temper and give this man another opportunity to ridicule in front of your co-workers. But judging by that horrendous look on his face you already have a gut feeling that all taht hard work to keep your anger in check is going to fly right through the window. Taking the deepest breath you could take and plastering on that fake smile, you gladly greeted the man that makes your life a living hell.

“These numbers are definitely not to my liking and I refused to be the laughing stock at the board meeting tomorrow.” He huffed heavily as he practically threw the binder down onto your desk. The heavy plastic slamming against the steel desk with a loud thud that echoed through the big hallway. The wind from the fall making papers that previously occupied your desk go flying in every single direction. You could feel your anger bubble up in your chest at the mere disrespect that this man was giving you, and it was driving you insane.

“With all do respect sir, it’s already twelve thirty, and I highly doubt I’ll be able to go over all of these documents by seven thirty in the morning.” You resisted their urge to grit your teeth as you wanted to appear somehow considerate of his complications. Truth be told you didn’t want to do another all nighter when you barely pulled through from the other night. “Besides, I looked over the revenue and margin growths three times before I sent them to your office.”

He scoffed loudly as he licked one of his fingers and then continued to rummage through the papers that were bonded together. His long finger skimmed over the lines multiple times and he flipped each page within a minute. Those piercing eyes stayed locked in on every single number that crossed the page. “Ah, right here it states that we made a profit revenue of fifty million last year, but then it states that this year we’ve only grossed sixty five million. And that’s definitely less than the fifty percent revenue growth that we expected.”

“So, sixty five is not as bad as you’re making it out to be, besides multiple people double checked.” You spoke tiredly as you started packing up your briefcase. Different papers getting stacked together and even crumpled because of the rapid pace that you were going. No matter what happens tonight you were leaving before the clock strikes one in the morning. As you were packing up your eyes met his furious ones and it felt like your world was crumbling down. “Mr. Choi, I’m being honest, your accounting department checked all of these numbers multiple times and I looked over them as much as I could.”

“I know for a fact that we had a fifty percent increase in revenue, now look over these damn numbers again. Or you’ll be kissing this cushy office job goodbye in the morning.” He harshly slammed the binder closed and stalked over to his office door. The audacity of that stupid man, how dare he even threaten you with this job. But as much as you wanted to spit in his face and tell him to shove it you really needed this job, this really well paying job.

You poked your cheek with your tongue out of agitation and roughly grabbed your purse. The bottle of caffeine pills made a clicking sound as you unscrewed the cap within a second. Without a drink of water you downed the pill and grabbed the ugly binder. This was going to be a long night, and these numbers were not going to supposedly fix themselves.

Your fingers tapped the keys on the keyboard rapidly as you searched each collaboration revenue. All of these numbers were lining up, no matter what you searched. Out of the six collaborations Choi enterprise only grossed sixty five million, but for some reason he just won’t listen. All you wanted to do at this point was slump forward and go to sleep, but with that anger that Mr.Choi has you’re scared he might kill you in your sleep. But as the long hours went on and on, you could feel yourself slipping. Your eyelids felt like a ton, and your head was suddenly too heavy for your neck to hold. Before you knew you were out like a light.

—

You’d shoot the person who was jabbing their finger into side if you could. Their bony finger feeling a knife stabbing your rib cage with immense pressure. “Please wake up, y/n, if he notices you’re asleep, who knows what he’ll do!” The jabbing didn’t cease one bit, in fact they just jabbed even harder.

“Okay! I’m up!” You groggily scoffed as your vision was trying to focus on the object in front of you. The figure was simply a mush of different colors all moving in different directions. The harsh lights in the office are in no way making the situation any better. You could make out their hand moving from left to right to try and grab your attention. “Hongjoong?”

“What are you, blind? Of course it’s me, but please I’m begging you get up and go freshen up in the bathroom.” He sighed sadly as he helped your wobbly stance straighten up. His soft hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. The soft scent of his cologne filling your nose as you clung to him. “Do you still carry extra clothes in your car?”

“Thankfully yes, but what time is it?” You question as you rubbed your eyes, trying to make all the colors of the world blend back together to form one coherent thing. “Oh god, is it past seven thirty, oh shit! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Calm down, it's only six thirty, but he always gets here at seven. So please go wipe that old makeup off and I’ll get your other clothes.” Hongjoong smiled slightly at you before his eyes shifted towards the oh so famous brown binder. “Did that dick make you go over more numbers the whole night?”

“God yes and it was terrible, but I looked over all six collaborations and I kid you not it all equals sixty five.” You could hear a pin drop on the silence that coated the room. It was beginning to feel suffocating and you physically felt your chest growing heavy with dread. “There were only six right, because that’s all the forms I received.”

“Maybe i'm just thinking of something else, because maybe just maybe -“

“Stop wasting time! Is there more than six?” You panicked as you shoved him away and pulled the rolling chair back to your side. Before your fingers could even reach the keys, Hongjoong’s were there in a second. They tapped rapidly and skimmed through all your emails at a neck breaking pace. “Oh my god I never refreshed the email.”

“We don’t have time to sit here and panic, we have three pages of numbers to go through.” Hongjoong tried to make the situation less tense by offering a helping hand, but he knew that if these numbers weren’t corrected all hell would break loose. And no one wanted to see what Choi San was like when he more than ticked off. He’d probably be past the point of furious if ever saw these unfinished numbers.

—

San’s eyes were narrowed as he eyed the unfamiliar man at your desk. Where the hell were you? He didn’t pay a shit ton of money for you to be everywhere and not in that chair looking pretty. But at this moment he couldn’t control himself as the words flew from his mouth. “What the hell is this?”

That look, that gorgeous look of fear that made his blood rush and his heart pound. Was etched across the unknown man's face and he was basking in the glory of it. San cocked his eyebrow slightly as he leaned forwards on his palms. “Did I suddenly grow two heads or some shit, no? Then answer my question, what the hell is this.”

“I’m so sorry Mr.Choi, but I didn’t notice that there were seven collaborations. I only had six in my email. And Mr.Kim was only helping me scrunch the numbers.”

“You mean to tell me that these numbers aren’t finished! And this meeting is in less than an hour?” His demeanor was calm but the sheer venom in his voice was enough to bring you to your knees. He poked his cheek with his tongue and gave a mean smile in your direction. “I mean it, l/n you’re on thin ice. But if those numbers aren’t corrected then you’re fired.”

“Yes sir.” You gulped as you watched him take heavy steps towards his office. You were in deep shit now. San rubbed his chin as he tried to remain calm and not fire you on the spot. Out of all the times you could have missed up, you decided now was the perfect time. Messing up these numbers would make other investors think that this company cannot handle the responsibility of simply matching numbers. This mistake could completely tank the company and put everyone here out of a job.

Fifty five minutes have passed and investors from other companies are already showing up at the doors. And here he was sitting at the head of the table empty handed, and it was all your fault. It was your fault for not refreshing that damn email, for not paying closer attention to the numbers, for simply not giving it your all. And now it’s going to be your fault that the entire company crumbles and falls straight into the depths below.

“So San, when is this meeting going to officially begin?” Questioned one of the many associates as he leaned back against the velvet chair. A smile bright on his face as if he didn’t care to wait a moment or two for it to begin. But, on the other hand, the leader of the meeting was so furious he could start foaming at the mouth. Because guess what crucial piece of information still wasn’t on his desk.

“We will begin momentarily if my secretary would get her head out of her ass and bring them those god damn numbers.” San spoke with a soft smile on his face. The look he gave the men was a completely different tone from the words he just spoke. Those words help fury and degradation but his smile was so bright it could light up a room or cause someone’s heart to flutter out of their chest. But at this moment all of those men knew at this moment San was anything, but happy.

The sound of the doorknob being yanked on caught everyone’s attention. Their heads jolted towards the cause of the noise as they watched you fiddled with the dozens of papers in her hand. Your smile was uneasy as you tried to reorganize them on your way towards the head of the table. They watched your clammy hands shake with fear as San ripped the paper from your hands. Judging by the way you quickly held your pointed and middle finger they could only guess what happened.

“Why the hell are you still standing here? Do I need to draw you a picture and make it clear that you’re done here?” San scolded as he shoved you a bit and forced you to walk to the door. Fumbling over your own two feet and almost hitting the floor head on at one point. But he didn’t care, because all he wanted to do right now was get this meeting over with. With a final shove and a quick slam of the glass door, he swiftly turned back around to be met with very difficult to decipher expressions.

“Well now that all distractions are gone, let’s get down to business.”

—

Your face was flushed and you could feel your hands start to shake. From the mere interaction with the stupid CEO. The vivid picture of his icy eyes and cold stare were burned into your brain, as his words pounded in your skull without mercy. The man practically belittled you, in a room full of successful CEOs who now probably think you’re a joke.

“Hey, don't worry yourself sick. It was an honest mistake.” Hongjoong consoled you as he eyed your shaken form. The tearful eyes and the constant bouncing of your leg was a dead giveaway of the way you felt at this moment. And he wanted nothing more than to just say everything will be okay, that everything is going to be just fine. But he can’t, because who knows what the jerk will do you do considering your almost costed him a deal.

“Do you think he’ll fire me?” The question hung in the air with such heaviness that it was almost hard to breathe. The thought of losing this job was sending you into a whirlwind of erratic emotions. If this job is gone, there goes the ability to afford your car, hell there goes the ability to afford the damn apartment you’re living in at this moment. You’ll lose eveything, if you’re cut off.

“He better not, and trust me if he ever does, I would be more than happy to have you on my team.” A new man smiled brightly in your direction as he made his way over to your desk. He wasn’t an unfamiliar face around the office as he and Mr.Choi have done business deals of many kinds in the past. “It would truly be an honor to have someone like you working at Jeon Marketing.”

A small smile took over your face as you eyed the man in front of you. Mr.Jeon was an extremely well known CEO in this business, and he’s not too much older than Mr.Choi. You’re genuinely surprised these men are allies in this type of business, if anything you thought they’d be enemies. “Thank you for such kind words, but trust me your opinion on me may change soon.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen the way you handle situations at this company, especially time crunched ones. I can tell just by looking at your face you stayed up hours just to make sure his numbers were perfect.” Mr Jeon stated as he leaned forward on the desk and clapped his hand together. “And truth be told I wouldn’t mind having such a beautiful face be the face of my company.”

His compliment left you stumped as you eyed his face. The tone he held was lighthearted because he knew this stressful situation needed a little laughter, but you knew from the look on his face he was being serious. About both of his statements. Before you could form a response, he long fingers were reaching into his jacket pocket. “I promise, if you ever need anything. I’m just a call away.”

“His top rival and best friend just offered you a sweet ass deal, are you gonna take it?”

You truly didn’t know the answer to that. I mean on one hand you have your secretary job here, and it pays well. The boss may be a pain in the ass, but it’s the only thing keeping you afloat. And you know that these two companies are neck and neck right now for the top spot, so it’s hard to decipher just how much he’s willing to pay you. But would there be any harm in simply asking the man?

“I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t intrigue me, but at the same time I don’t wanna leave you all alone.” You mumbled as you tapped away at the computer keys. Just trying to find any small amount of information about his company. But only mere surface information popped up in the search box. “Would it be a bad thing if I did leave?”

“Sometimes trying something new is good thing, but it really all depends on how you feel. And I have a friend that works there and she told me she makes over 250k a year.” Hongjoong shrugged his shoulders as he stood up to leave. His soft eyes giving a sense of comfort as he started to walk away. “I promise whatever option you pick, you’ll be fine.”

A heavy huff of air passed through your lips as you tried to think of the right answer. If he was right you’d make just a little bit more working for him and he genuinely seems like a nicer boss in general. So the real question is what’s keeping you tied to this job? The only perk about this job is working with Hongjoong and he’s the main reason why you’ve stuck around this long. The men from before were now exiting San’s offer with bright smiles on their faces, and you could only conclude that those numbers truly were the right ones. But just as your eyes leave their smiles you’re met with someone who has the complete opposite expression.

He briskly walked towards you and hastily cleared his throat. The stone cold expression he was supporting made a shiver go down your spine. Without a second thought he grabbed your hand and hauled you off in the direction of his office, with his nails piercing the skin of your wrist. Within a second he shoved you into his office and slammed the door behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His stern voice echoed in the office. Bouncing off the walls left and right and continuing to bounce inside your skull. The fingernails that were pressing into your skin felt like sharp needles protruding into you. You could have sworn you saw blood pass through his fingers. “Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! But I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” You panicked as you tried to yank your arm away from his hardened grasp. Those eyes of his start to terrify you the longer you stay in his touch. But he wasn’t letting you get away if anything the more you struggled against him the tighter his hold got.

“I saw that dumb fucker hand you his card, and for some unknown reason you took it. So what that’s it, you’re just gonna fucking leave after everything I’ve done for you?” He spat words at you left and right. Not bothering to back up any of his claims. He speaks as if he’s given you pure gold to walk but in reality all he’s given you is eggshells. You have to be careful around you, you’re never treated well, and he wants to sit up on his throne and act as if he’s treated you like royalty?

“If anything you’ve given me shit! You’re treating me like crap any chance you get, I made one mistake and your response to that is belittling me in front of other people!” You shouted back with just as much venom as he has done to you. With a final yank from your arm, you relaxed yourself from his grip. Tired of his antics you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke. “And so what if I take his offer, he’d be a better boss than you ever were!”

“I mean it, L/n, you take that deal and I’ll make your life a living hell.” He threatened as he got closer and closer. His minty breath fanned your face slightly as he harshly grabbed your chin. “Trust me, this is one bet you’ll regret taking if you leave.”

“I’ll take that damn bet any day.” You tried to push his chest back but he was stronger than you. What surprised you the most was the cackle-like laugh that passed through his lips. A wide smile taking over his face and that somehow made the situation more sinister.

“I warned you, Y/n.”

[fatliberation]

I’m Abandoning Body Positivity and Here’s Why

In short: it’s fatphobic.

“A rallying cry for a shift in societal norms has now become the skinny girl’s reassurance that she isn’t really fat. Fatness, through this lens of ‘body positivity’, remains the worst thing a person can be.” (Kayleigh Donaldson)

•  •  •

I have always had a lot of conflicting opinions about the body positivity movement, but it’s much more widely known (and accepted, go figure) than the fat liberation movement, so I often used the two terms interchangeably in conversation about anti-fatness. But the longer I’ve been following the body positivity movement, the more I’ve realized how much it has strayed from its fat lib origins. It has been hijacked; deluded to center thin, able, white, socially acceptable bodies.

Bopo’s origins are undoubtedly grounded in fat liberation. The fat activists of the 1960s paved the way for the shred of size acceptance we see in media today, initially protesting the discrimination and lack of access to equal opportunities for fat people specifically. This early movement highlighted the abuse, mental health struggles, malpractice in the medical field, and called for equal pay, equal access, equal respect, an end to fatphobic structures and ideas. It saddens me that it hasn’t made much progress in those regards. 

Today, the #bopo movement encapsulates more the idea of loving your own body versus ensuring that individuals regardless of their weight and appearance are given equal opportunities in the workplace, schools, fashion and media. Somehow those demands never made it outside of the ‘taboo’ category, and privileged people would much more readily accept the warm and fuzzy, sugar-coated message of “love yourself!” But as @yrfatfriend once said, this idea reduces fat people’s struggles to a problem of mindset, rather than a product of external oppressors that need to be abolished in order for fat people to live freely.

That generalized statement, “love yourself,” is how a movement started by fat people for the rights of fat people was diluted so much, it now serves a thin model on Instagram posting about how she has a tummy roll and cellulite on her thighs - then getting praised for loving her body despite *gasp!* its minor resemblance to a fat body. 

Look. Pretty much everyone has insecurities about their bodies, especially those of us who belong to marginalized groups. If you don’t have body issues, you’re a privileged miracle, but our beauty-obsessed society has conditioned us to want to look a certain way, and if we have any features that the western beauty standard considers as “flaws,” yeah! We feel bad about it! So it’s not surprising that people who feel bad about themselves would want to hop on a movement that says ‘hey, you’re beautiful as you are!’ That’s a message everyone would like to hear. Any person who has once thought of themselves as less than beautiful now feels that this movement is theirs. And everyone has insecurities, so everyone feels entitled to the safe space. And when a space made for a minority includes the majority, the cycle happens again and the majority oppresses the minority. What I’m trying to explain here is that thin people now feel a sense of ownership over body positive spaces. 

Regardless of how badly thin people feel about their bodies, they still experience thin privilege. They can sit down in a theater or an airplane without even thinking about it, they can eat in front of others without judgement, they can go the doctor with a problem and actually have it fixed right away, they can find cute clothes in their size with ease, they do not suffer from assumptions of laziness/failure based on stereotype, they see their body type represented everywhere in media, the list goes on and on. They do not face discrimination based off of the size of their body. 

Yet diet culture and fatphobia affects everyone, and of course thin people do still feel bad about the little fat they have on their bodies. But the failure to examine WHY they feel bad about it, is what perpetuates fatphobia within the bopo movement. They’re labeled “brave” for showing a pinch of chub, yet fail to address what makes it so acceptably daring, and how damaging it is to people who are shamed for living in fat bodies. Much like the rest of society, thin body positivity is still driven by the fear of fat, and does nothing to dismantle fatphobia within structures or within themselves.

Evette Dionne sums it up perfectly in her article, “The Fragility of Body Positivity: How a Radical Movement Lost Its Way.”

“The body-positive media economy centers these affirming, empowering, let-me-pinch-a-fat-roll-to-show-how-much-I-love-myself stories while failing to actually challenge institutions to stop discriminating against fat people. More importantly, most of those stories center thin, white, cisgender, heterosexual women who have co-opted the movement to build their brands. Rutter has labeled this erasure ‘Socially Acceptable Body Positivity.’

“On social media, it actually gets worse for fat bodies: We’re not just being erased from body positivity, fat women are being actively vilified. Health has become the stick with which to beat fat people with [sic], and the benchmark for whether body positivity should include someone” (Dionne).

Ah, yes. The medicalization of fat bodies, and the moralization of health. I’ve ranted about this before. Countless comments on posts of big women that say stuff like “I’m all for body positivity, but this is just unhealthy and it shouldn’t be celebrated.” I’ve heard writer/activist Aubrey Gordon once say that body positivity has become something like a shield for anti-fatness. It’s anti-fatness that has been repackaged as empowerment. It’s a striking double-standard. Fat people are told to be comfortable in their bodies (as if that’s what’s going to fix things) but in turn are punished when they’re okay with being fat. Make it make sense.

Since thin people feel a sense of ownership over body positive spaces, and they get to hide behind “health” when they are picking and choosing who can and cannot be body positive, they base it off of who looks the most socially acceptable. And I’m sure they aren’t consciously picking and choosing, it comes from implicit bias. But the socially acceptable bodies they center are small to medium fat, with an hourglass shape. They have shaped a new beauty standard specifically FOR FAT PEOPLE. (Have you ever seen a plus sized model with neck fat?? I’m genuinely asking because I have yet to find one!) The bopo movement works to exclude and silence people who are on the largest end of the weight spectrum. 

Speaking of exclusion, let’s talk about fashion for a minute.

For some reason, (COUGH COUGH CAPITALISM) body positivity is largely centered around fashion. And surprise surprise, it’s still not inclusive to fat people. Fashion companies get a pat on the back for expanding their sizing two sizes up from what they previously offered, when they are still leaving out larger fat people completely. In general, clothing companies charge more for clothes with more fabric, so people who need the largest sizes are left high and dry. It’s next to impossible to find affordable clothes that also look nice. Fashion piggybacks on the bopo movement as a marketing tactic, and exploits the very bodies it claims to be serving. (Need I mention the time Urban Outfitters used a "curvy” model to sell a size it doesn’t even carry?)

The movement also works to exclude and silence fat Black activists.

In her article, “The Body Positivity Movement Both Takes From and Erases Fat Black Women” Donyae Coles explains how both white people and thin celebrities such as Jameela Jamil profit from the movement that Black women built.

“Since long before blogging was a thing, fat Black women have been vocal about body acceptance, with women like Sharon Quinn and Marie Denee, or the work of Sonya Renee Taylor with The Body Is Not An Apology. We’ve been out here, and we’re still here, but the overwhelming face of the movement is white and thin because the mainstream still craves it, and white and thin people have no problem with profiting off the work of fat, non-white bodies.”

“There is a persistent belief that when thin and/or white people enter the body positive realm and begin to repeat the messages that Black women have been saying for years in some cases, when they imitate the labor that Black women have already put in that we should be thankful that they are “boosting” our message. This completely ignores the fact that in doing so they are profiting off of that labor. They are gaining the notoriety, the mark of an expert in something they learned from an ignored Black woman” (Coles).

My next essay will go into detail about this and illuminate key figures who paved the way for body acceptance in communities of color. 

The true purpose of this movement has gotten completely lost. So where the fuck do we go from here? 

We break up with it, and run back to the faithful ex our parents disapproved of. We go back to the roots of the fat liberation movement, carved out for us by the fat feminists, the queer fat activists, the fat Black community, and the allies it began with. Everything they have preached since the 1960s and 70s is one hundred percent applicable today. We get educated. We examine diet culture through a capitalist lens. We tackle thin, white-supremacist systems and weight based discrimination, as well as internalized bias. We challenge our healthcare workers to unlearn their bias, treat, and support fat patients accordingly. We make our homes and spaces accessible and welcoming to people of any size, or any (dis)ability. “We must first protect and uplift people in marginalized bodies, only then can we mandate self-love” (Gordon).

Think about it. In the face of discrimination, mistreatment, and emotional abuse, we as a society are telling fat people to love their bodies, when we should be putting our energy toward removing those fatphobic ideas and structures so that fat people can live in a world that doesn’t require them to feel bad about their bodies. It’s like hitting someone with a rock and telling them not to bruise!

While learning to love and care for the body that you’re in is important, I think that body positivity also fails in teaching that because it puts even more emphasis on beauty. Instead of saying, “you don’t have to be ‘beautiful’ to be loved and appreciated,” its main lesson is that “all bodies are beautiful.” We live in a society obsessed with appearance, and it is irresponsible to ignore the hierarchy of beauty standards that exist in every space. Although it should be relative, “beautiful” has been given a meaning. And that meaning is thin, abled, symmetric, and eurocentric. 

Beauty and ugliness are irrelevant, made-up constructs. People will always be drawn to you no matter what, so you deserve to exist in your body without struggling to conform to an impossible and bigoted standard. Love and accept your body for YOURSELF AND NO ONE ELSE, because you do not exist to please the eyes of other people. That’s what I wish we were teaching instead. Radical self acceptance!

As of today, the ultimate message of the body positivity movement is: Love your body “despite its imperfections.” Or people with “perfect and imperfect bodies both deserve love.” As long as we are upholding the notion that there IS a perfect body that looks a certain way, and every body that falls outside of that category is imperfect, we are upholding white supremacy, eugenics, anti-fatness, and ableism.

[iheartbookbran]

Ok so actually my biggest problem with the whole “Daenerys will burn KL” theory—not even the Mad Queen Dany theory, which is of course very sexist for obvious reasons, but just like, the idea that Dany will ~accidentally~ ignite the wildfire in the city, burning it all to the ground. That, at first, doesn’t sound that bad, but the longer I think about it the more I hate it because tbh it doesn’t do anything for her character? And also… that fate for her is just down right cruel.

Like, the most frequent argument I see on why this would be at all satisfactory for Dany’s arc is basically that it would be a sort of lesson for her about the dangers of unchecked power and the real threat the Dragons can pose on humans and that she shouldn’t use them to fight against other people. And that’s all well and good, excellent message… except that’s not something Dany’s ever really needed to learn? Not anymore that her fellow rulers, which I will touch on more detail later, but in general Dany has seen what the abuse of power can do. Starting with her conflicting feelings regarding Viserys and how she recognizes that even though he was her brother and she loved him, he also abused his power over her as her older brother, her only family and her king; she feels guilt about the atrocities Drogo committed to the lhazarene and tries to help them; she feels so much guilt about not handling things correctly in Astapor that she decides to throw away all her plans to go to Westeros and instead stays in Meereen.

And about not knowing the true danger that her dragons can pose? I mean, this is the same girl that literally agonizes across several of her ADWD chapters because Drogon killed a child, and then takes the extreme measure of caging Rhaegal and Viserion to prevent that from ever happening again. I think she’s at least a little bit aware that the dragons can be dangerous, thank you very much.

Ok so this got long...

Anyways, the only time Dany legit uses Drogon to harm someone and not just as bluff was at the house of the Undying, where she was being attacked, and in Astapor… and like, lmao, that asshole Kraznys mo Nakloz and the rest of his slaver buddies deserved it. Don’t at me. Also, Dany’s hardly the only one with a big magical and deadly beast at her disposal, why didn’t Robb had to go through some horrifying traumatic incident to learn he shouldn’t use Grey Wind in battle to tear his enemies’ throats. Bran will be learning about the dangers of abusing power, but that’s linked to his magic powers and an actual reprehensible thing he’s doing, not the use of his glorified prehistoric dog to kill, which he’s done, just like Robb. By all means let the narrative hold Dany accountable for her mistakes… but her actual mistakes and not shit she has no control over, because she doesn’t have much control over Drogon or the other dragons even though she’s trying to, and that’s very obvious in her last ADWD chapter where she’s delirious and Drogon could kill her at any moment, and she knows that.

The other big argument people make for Dany burning KL (even if it’s by accident!) is that it will teach her about the price of war, that someone as young as her shouldn’t be leading armies and conquering kingdoms, and that fighting for the Iron Throne is not a worthy cause, and I feel like that misses the actual point of her story by a mile. First of all because a) Dany is hardly the only teenage ruler in the story and b) this is a fantasy medieval story, a lot of the characters shouldn’t be doing the things they do, aaaand yet. Also speaking of other teenage rulers with far more power that they should have—Robb and Jon, being the biggest examples.

Granted, Robb and Jon aren’t exactly successful during their time as rulers, they’re literally betrayed and killed by their own men (even if Jon will technically come back for round 2 of bullshit he’s too tired for). But the moral of their stories is not that they lost because theirs was an unworthy cause and they were stupid kids wholly unprepared for their roles. And I actually partially agree! They are just kids, including Dany, and they shouldn’t be responsible for looking after so many others and going to battle, but their cause is still just and worthy, even with all the mistakes they make along the way. Robb didn’t loose because he was wrong in demanding justice for his family or trying to protect the riverlands from the Lannisters and their minions, he lost because Tywin Lannister was a giant coward who couldn’t take him out in a fair fight.

Likewise, it isn’t wrong of Jon to try to incorporate refugees from beyond the Wall into Westeros. He’s not too stupid and honorable to do politics like his father (how I hate when people insult Jon and Ned like that), and while he did some very obvious mistakes that inevitably ended in a coup and in him dying, this is more connected to his inability to let go of his ties with his family (mainly Arya or who he believes to be her), and in isolating himself from his friends and the people he could actually trust.

I’ve always thought that Dany and Jon share a parallel narrative within the story, so while Jon is struggling with that Dany is faced with similar problems. She cages her dragons, that to her represent the only family she has left, and she tries to compromise with the slavers, marry a man she doesn’t love, pretend she’s ok with reopening the fighting pit. While she tries her best to rule wisely in Meereen, it all comes at the cost of betraying herself and her beliefs, so it’s no surprise when it all crashes around her and she’s betrayed and nearly killed. Ironically, it is Drogon who comes to rescue her.

If they are monsters, so am I.—Daenerys II, ADWD.

This is hands down one of my favorite Dany quotes from the whole series, and I hate that it’s been given such a negative connotation in the fandom, when for me it represents Dany’s humanity and compassion at the fullest.

GRRM has a knack for humanizing the ‘monsters’ of his story, for showing the good in the outcasts and the ugly and the scary. He embraces their ‘otherness’ and makes them the heroes of his stories; Arya, Bran, Brienne, Dany, Tyrion, Jon, Theon and many others are all compared to monsters or beasts at one point or another in the books.

Dany sees herself in her dragons, literal monsters in every sense of the word. Later on she faces Drogon inside the pit, and in that moment you could say that she accepts that ‘monstrous’ part of her, and in doing so she’s saved from her fate of dying at the hands of the men who would crucify innocent children and gleefully profit off of the suffering of their fellow human beings while watching them fight each other to the death for their own amusement. Now tell me who’s the real monster in this situation.

But shortly before that happens, Dany is able to see the humanity in Tyrion, an outcast who has been branded as monstrous and unlovable due to his disability all his life, a man who has come to believe in his abusers’ rhetoric about him so strongly that he’s started to act cruel and detached. She saves his life. She sees value in his life when few others would, because she cares.

I’ve always find it funny that the “dragons plant no trees” is—another—example fans use to argue in favor of Dany’s descent into Darkness™ because the actual scene goes like this:

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros.

"It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl."

No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words.—Daenerys X, ADWD.

Now am I the only one who finds it at least a bit relevant that it’s freaking Jorah Mormont aka Jorah the Enslaver whom Dany’s subconscious, at her literal lowest moment, utilizes to represent this particular thought, which btw I’ve always interpreted as Dany’s own self-loathing manifesting in her, and this is something she’s actually always struggled with—the idea that she’s not enough and she’s failing. Because above all things, even Westeros or the Iron Throne, what Dany wants is peace, she wants to plant trees.

When Dany made her descent, Reznak and Skahaz dropped to their knees. "Your Worship shines so brightly, you will blind every man who dares to look upon you," said Reznak. […] This match will save our city, you will see."

"So we pray. I want to plant my olive trees and see them fruit." Does it matter that Hizdahr's kisses do not please me? Peace will please me. Am I a queen or just a woman?—Daenerys VII, ADWD.

But of course the world doesn’t work like that, and so long as there’s Jorahs and Tywins and Eurons out there, men who would take the freedom of humans and submit them to their will, Dany can’t have the luxury of peace, just like Jon can’t have the luxury of belonging and family so long as there’s people still beyond the Wall who need his protection.

And I think that’s fine. It’s fine that Dany failed, it will help her develop as a character and realize that there’s no room to compromise with slavers, the metaphorical monsters of the story who do far more harm than the other more literal ‘monsters’ of the story. So that when she has to face down Euron Greyjoy—who btw, there’s a high chance he will end up stealing one of Dany’s dragons via Victarion using Dragonbinder… y’know, as in enslaving one of her children and using said dragon to inflict god knows what horrors, yet not many people ever consider this for some reason?—she will know. When she has to face down the Others, the magical ice fairies with no regard for human life, she will know.

That’s why I believe that it would make absolutely no sense for Dany to have to go through such a tragic and traumatic experience like burning a whole city even by pure accident, over something that’s either never been a problem with her character or she’s well into her way of learning anyways, so it would just feel repetitive. As I have pointed out, she’s already reached one of the lowest moments of her arc. Not saying there will be no other blows for her, and probably the destruction of KL will be one of them, and knowing Dany she will feel responsibility over it no matter what, but that doesn’t mean she has to be the culprit, intentional or otherwise.

[inspiteallthedanger]

This is probably a weird question so apologies, but do you think Paul should have gone to the Beatles Hall of Fame award show? I know he didn't and I've seen it described as the petulant act of a child and understandable given the legal situation and hurt feelings. I would love to know what you thought of it?

Not a weird question at all!

I don’t think Paul should ever do anything he doesn’t want, to be honest. He’s earned being as petty as he wants. Not that I think that’s what he was doing, but even if he was, so what? I wouldn’t want to hang out with three people that were all suing me either. I’m sure he felt it was The Breakup 2.0 and I can’t imagine how shitty that must have felt. Also, this should have been such a special moment for him and then they sued him right before and ruined it. I doubt that was on purpose (the timing) but… I can see how it might have felt pointed.

I don’t know if George’s speech should be taken at face value. Personally it seems a little… disingenuous of him to suggest he’s surprised. But, perhaps he genuinely assumed Paul would always just roll over and put a brave face on/wasn’t capable of being hurt by that sort of thing/there was no reason for him to take it personally because really they were suing EMI/Capitol and not him.

Do I think Paul should have gone to make himself/The Beatles look better? Maybe? They had sort of been suing each other and everyone else for nearly two decades by that point, so perhaps they should have all just carried on like it was business as usual and that would have stopped some of the backlash. But it is also possible that people would have slagged him off for daring to be there when he was shitting all over their legacy for ‘stealing their money’.

I guess the other question is if Paul was trying to get one over on them with the royalties and therefore should have been there (or not been there) to apologise. I mean, if Capitol was just giving him more out of its own profits and it wasn’t taking anything from the others, he certainly had less to feel bad about. Of course I’m sure they all thought (and John almost certainly would have felt) there was a gentleman’s agreement not to take more. But, who can say. Paul was making a lot of money for Capitol and obviously it’s his right to negotiate whatever he wanted. I do get why people would feel that a) he didn’t need more money and b) The Beatles should be a completely separate thing and it’s almost petty to ask for a bigger cut of that because he (arguably) can’t deserve more of it now than he did before. I say arguably because there’s something to the idea that Paul being as successful as he was, was keeping the Beatles more in the public eye and therefore selling more. But how you figure out THAT I have no idea because John dying did as much as anything for that, and obviously Ringo and George released music too (along with other things).

But in summation, Paul often couldn’t win in the eyes of the press so it was almost certainly just better for him to do what made him personally happiest.

Always happy to hear other’s thoughts though.

[syllvane]

in the shadows- inej ghafa x reader

a/n: this was requested by anon but i listened to hozier while writing this so it took on a life of its own! i have never written for inej before so i hope it’s not ooc!

Your relationship with Inej blooms in secret.

It blooms in shadows and in dark rooms and in the Barrel, where such things have no business in blooming.

It blooms anyways.

“You know if you keep showing up here when you’re not working, Kaz is going to know that something is up.”

You turned around to face Inej, unable to keep the small smile that appeared off of your face.

Showing weakness wasn’t allowed in the Barrel, not for anyone and certainly not for you, for someone in such close proximity to the infamous Kaz Brekker.

And you were good at it.

You were good at being ruthless and cruel and cold and now you couldn’t even keep a smile off of your face.

Maybe this is what love does, you thought. Maybe to love and to be loved is to be weak.

And still, looking at the woman in front of you, you couldn’t imagine how loving her could possibly be a bad thing.

“I just like The Crow Club,” You lied, the smile still tugging at your lips.

Inej pursed her lips, as if she was stifling a laugh.

“You have an awful poker face.”

“Maybe I just like the company,” You suggested and she looked down, trying to conceal the smile that had appeared on her face.

She opened her mouth to respond but before she could, Jesper slung an arm around your shoulder.

“Twice in two days? I’m beginning to think that you actually like it around here,” He said, grinning.

You rolled your eyes and Inej gave you a pointed look, as if to say ‘I told you so’.

“I just enjoy seeing you lose, Jes,” You said and he did his best to look offended before the easygoing grin made its way back onto his face.

“You break my heart. Hey, Inej- where did she go?”

You looked back at where Inej had been standing moments before, though you knew that she had gone even before Jesper had said anything.

“What do you need, Jesper?” You asked him and he took a step away from you, his hands in his pockets.

“So this guy-”

“You need kruge?” You asked impatiently, more focused on getting back to Inej than anything else.

He blinked.

“I wouldn’t come to you if-”

You dug in your pocket and handed him what you had on you and he stopped speaking.

“You’re just going to give it to me? No lectures?” He asked.

You shrugged.

“If I tell you not to lose it all, will it make any difference?”

He took the kruge, ignoring your question.

“You know, you’re being much nicer than usual, I think you should hang around Inej more,” He said thoughtfully, not even registering the surprise on your face as he turned to go back to one of the tables. “Thanks again!”

You stood there for a couple of seconds in surprise before you went outside, knowing that you were most likely to find Inej there.

Though it wasn’t as busy as it was earlier in the evening, there were still plenty of people walking around, entering and leaving various establishments.

You don’t hear her when she drops down, but you still know that she is there.

Sure enough, when you turn around, the shadows melt away and there she is.

“I told you it was getting obvious,” She chided and you raised an eyebrow.

“Where am I supposed to go then? The Emerald Palace? It’s not like there would be any point though, because believe it or not, you’re the reason I come here.”

A smile appeared on Inej’s face, though she managed to conceal it quickly.

“I never would’ve guessed,” She said and although there was no trace of it on her face, you could still hear the smile in her voice. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.”

She led you down the alleyways of Ketterdam until the two of you were in a nicer part of town, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

Still, the two of you didn’t dare walk into the lamplight, not wanting to risk being seen, instead settling for standing in the shadows.

You always knew that if you were going to have a relationship with someone, it would have to be like this.

It would have to be secrets and shadows and deception and yet with Inej, you wanted more.

You want more. And you look at her and you want to walk in the lamplight with her, want the whole of Ketterdam to know how much you love her.

You want to damn your reputation and damn yourself alongside it all for the chance to hold her hand where others can see.

You looked away from her after she looked back at you, realizing that you had been staring.

“Sorry, I just-”

Before you could continue your apology, she put her hand on your cheek, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?”

You nodded and she kissed you.

She had kissed you a thousand times before and she may kiss you a thousand times more, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to her gentleness, the way she holds you as if you are something fragile.

You don’t think you’ll ever deserve it.

For so long, you believed that there was nothing holy in the Barrel. Profit, maybe, to some people, but not to you.

And maybe you are partially right, maybe there is nothing holy in the Barrel. Maybe everything the Barrel touches turns to rot. Maybe you’re both criminals and maybe there is no amount of forgiveness that can forgive what you’ve done. Maybe, but Inej’s lips make you want to kneel down and repent anyways.

You are unsure about a lot of things. You’re unsure if you’ll ever deserve the gentleness that she treats you with, if you’ll ever deserve her at all. Maybe you are selfish and cruel and cold and all of the things that you wanted the Barrel to believe that you are. Maybe you pretended to be a monster for so long, you actually became one. Maybe, but on her lips is a promise that she will love you whether you are the monster that you pretended to be or not, that you will never not deserve her love.

You don’t believe her promise, not fully, but you still savor the taste of her words on your lips and you take it, regardless of whether you’ll ever be worthy of it.

[flowercrown-bard]

For the writing prompts #14. Can’t make move because other person is a rival/enemy (please!)

Thank you so much for the prompt! So...I'm not 100% sure if this still fits the prompt but oh well, I tried

pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

word count: 5k

from this prompt list

summary: Jaskier finds anoynmous poetry that talks about how witchers are unwanted posted on notice boards. Of course he makes it his goal to find the mysterious poet and make them stop. It's too bad that as time goes on and the poet's verses change, it becomes really hard to hate them (new fic with Eskel‘s POV to this)

content warning: self-deprication, angst

Jaskier was known for many a thing. Some people knew him as a talented bard. Others thought of him only as the idiot they had seen jump out of a window to escape a scorned lover’s wrath. The list could go on forever, Jaskier had made sure of that.

But the one thing, everyone without fail would know him for, is that he was fiercely loyal to witchers.

For years he had sung about the White Wolf and his heroics, but lately, ever since that fateful day that he had finally met Geralt’s brother, Jaskier also sang about a different witcher. One who had promised to show him his collection of old poetry that scholars everywhere would kill for. The witcher that was kind and sweet despite what his appearance might suggest. The witcher whom Jaskier couldn’t stop thinking about ever since they had parted.

Briefly, Jaskier had been worried that Geralt might disapprove of Jaskier writing songs about one of his brothers. After all it had just been the two of them for so long. But Geralt didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he smiled a little wider whenever Jaskier crafted verses for Eskel. In fact, he looked at Jaskier as if there was more to it than just professional interest. Which was absolute nonsense, of course. Singing about another witcher was only profitable. It expended Jaskier’s repertoire and what better way to help all witcher-kind than to spread tales about more than just the most famous one of them?

So yes, Jaskier was first and foremost known as a friend to witchers.

Another, lesser known fact about Jaskier was that once he developed a grudge, he would hold onto it for the rest of his life.

Which is why Jaskier was seething with fury when he caught wind of some unnamed poet who apparently made it their life’s work to destroy witchers’ reputations.

What made it even worse that on the day Jaskier found out, he was in high spirits. He had been travelling alone for the past month and had just heard of Eskel – who Jaskier had been looking forward to meeting again since forever – being somewhere in the area. Of course, Jaskier had dropped everything and gone to search every notice board he could find for any clue as to any contracts close by that could have attracted the witcher.

What Jaskier found instead was enough to make his fists tremble with barely suppressed rage. Right there, in the middle of the notice board hung a piece of poetry on some cheap paper.

That in itself wasn’t too bad. Jaskier remembered well the days when he himself had been too shy to openly present his poetry and had resorted to anonymously posting it onto boards, but this – this was the worst thing Jaskier had ever read. The verses spoke of what it meant to be a witcher, of how life one the Path could look like. Some of the words and metaphors used were clear references – or even plagiarism – to Jaskier’s songs about his witchers. But where Jaskier praised and celebrated, this poet snarled and spat at witchers.

At the very least, the handwriting wasn’t too easy to decipher, as if the poet – if one could call them that – hadn’t had much time to write this. It was a poor consolation.

Jaskier read through the poem again and again, his mind catching on the words unwanted and mutant. And those were the most harmless insults.

The entire poem read as a collection of all the horrible things that were spat at witchers. Not only was it a clear rip-off of Jaskier’s work – describing the life of a witcher – but it dared to twist it into something ugly and loathed.

To make the insult worse, underneath the poem, in the place where normally the poet’s signature would be, was a clumsy sketch of a goat – clearly meant as another insult to Jaskier. Dread pooled in Jaskier’s stomach, as his eyes raked over the lines one more time and an even more horrible conclusion dawned on him.

The poet didn’t just made references to Jaskier’s works in general. It used imagery Jaskier specifically used in his songs about Eskel. The kindest soul Jaskier knew. A man so selfless that he had even saved a baby goat and had against all odds managed to take care of her while on the Path.

And now this poet spoke about Eskel’s bad experiences and posted them openly on the board for all the world to see.

Without thinking, Jaskier tore the paper with the offending poem from the board. It nearly crumbled in his fingers, but he forced himself to keep his hand steady. He would need the poem to ask people if they knew who had written it, even though the thought of showing it to more people churned Jaskier’s guts.

His search ended abruptly, when instead of finding out who the poet was, Jaskier heard about Eskel being driven out of the town.

He gritted his teeth and left the town to resume his search of Eskel. But even as he left the town behind, he swore to himself that whatever he did, some day he would find the poet and he would make sure they would never write another harmful word about witchers again.

-

Not a week later, a couple of towns over, Jaskier found another poem. The same handwriting, the same sentiment of witchers being resented outcasts.

After that, Jaskier doubled his efforts to sing the witchers’ praises.

Apparently, the unknown poet took that as a challenge. Wherever Jaskier went, it was only a matter of time before the next piece of offending poetry appeared.

The poet should have been easy to find. Poets of all kinds had the convenient habit of making themselves known – Jaskier could attest to that. And yet, this one alluded him time and time again. They were impossible to find. For a brief moment, Jaskier considered the possibility of Valdo Marx being the one writing these horrible things just to spite Jaskier, but even he wouldn’t stoop low enough for such a thing. Valdo had his place in Cidaris and he would never become a travelling bard for such a petty thing. Because that was clearly what this mysterious and hated poet was; travelling, just like Jaskier and yet always one step ahead, always out of reach.

There was no hint as to where the poet would go next. The only pattern Jaskier could find was that they always showed up in towns that remembered a witcher with scars running down his face.

For whatever reason, the poet was targeting Eskel specifically.

So Jaskier did the only thing he could do. If he wasn’t able to tell the poet off face to face, he might answer in the best way he knew how: With his own verses.

Every single poem he came across, Jaskier would reply to with poems of his own – pinned to the boards in the place where the stranger’s poem had hung before Jaskier had torn it off. For good measure, Jaskier would also sing his verses in taverns and market squares, just in case the poet would be able to hear him.

When the stranger that had quickly become Jaskier’s worst enemy, spoke of ugly scars in his lines that twisted every smile into a snarl, Jaskier answered with tales of a witcher’s laughter that was more beautiful and joyful than any coy giggles one would hear at court.

When his enemy talked about witchers being alone and scorned wherever they went, Jaskier sang about how wonderful it felt to call a witcher his friend, how loyal and protective witchers were of those they loved – this of course was underlined with a barely hidden message that Jaskier in turn was very protective of his witchers and would bring anyone down who dared insult them.

This warning evidently wasn’t received, for the next poem Jaskier found spoke of lonely nights and averted eyes.

And the thing was…the more Jaskier read those poems, the more he found that they were true. What could he say to disprove those words that he hated so much? He had seen first-hand how people scuttled away in fear as soon as they sat eyes on a witcher. He knew that right now, without his company, Geralt and Eskel would spend their nights alone, possibly hurt and feeling like they didn’t belong.

As much as Jaskier despised the poet for perpetuating the public’s opinion of witchers, Jaskier had to admit that somehow they had a deep understanding of what a witcher’s life was like, even if they used their insight to do harm.

Jaskier didn’t know how to feel about that revelation. Whoever that poet was, he knew. He understood. Maybe even felt the same way.

But that didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

This person was hurting Jaskier’s friends and there was no excuse for that. If he ever met the poet, no word about this irrational fascination would come past his lips. He would make sure that they stopped writing such terrible things and nothing more. They didn’t deserve anything more.

--

There was just one problem…the poetry was good. Brilliant, even. If it weren’t for the horrible subjects, Jaskier might even admire the craftsmanship of the verses.

He couldn’t for the life of him figure out where the poet had learned to write like this. Certainly not at Oxenfurt. Some of these rhyme schemes were similar to ones only found in old elven poetry that had been nearly erased entirely and there were references to some of the poems to literature that had been almost completely lost for ages.

Jaskier almost wanted to sit down with this poet and talk about their craft. Their verses were more expressive than anything Jaskier had ever read and as loath as he was to admit it, some of them brought tears to Jaskier’s eyes with how beautifully worded they were.

It was such a sharp and painful contrast reading those wonderful metaphors and rhymes describing the Path as something gruesome, ugly and hated.

It made Jaskier long for his friends. He wanted to make sure they weren’t alone anymore, that they didn’t have to see only the ugly parts of the Path.

But it also made him want to know more about the poet. Wanted to find out why they sounded so hurt in the way they wrote. He wanted to console and comfort them.

It was an ugly thought and one that Jaskier was ashamed to admit to even himself. So he pushed it into the far back of his mind. This person, whoever they were, wasn’t the one Jaskier should comfort. They were the very reason why Jaskier’s friends felt lonely.

Jaskier would never betray Geralt’s trust by befriending someone like that. Even more, he wouldn’t betray Eskel like that. Beautiful Eskel who was afraid to smile for fear of people flinching back in disgust. Who had been shy and yet excited about talking to Jaskier about poetry.

Jaskier froze and ice spread through his chest. Eskel.

All this time Jaskier had been so fixated on finding the poet that he had completely forgotten that he couldn’t have been the only one who had found their poems. If Jaskier had seen any of them, he would be crushed. Poetry was one of the few things Eskel found enjoyment in while on the Path and this could ruin that for him forever.

That thought was enough for Jaskier to regain his earlier determination. Not a hint of affection for the poet was left in his heart.

--

Except that, as the months dragged on and Jaskier kept replying to the poet’s words, the hint of affection or rather fascination flickered back to life. At some point, the poet had started to respond to Jaskier’s responses. Not openly, of course, but it was obvious in the way they wrote that they were referring to some of the things Jaskier spoke of in his newest songs.

What had started out as a passive-aggressive way for Jaskier to tell the other poet that he despised them, slowly turned into something much different. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he liked it.

Ever so slowly, the subjects of the poet’s verses shifted. True enough, overall they were still about the Path in one way or another, but now the poems about hatred and scorn were interspersed with ones about flowers and occasional appreciation and strangely enough, the joy of knitting. The last one elicited a startled laugh out of Jaskier when he read it and he quickly stopped himself. He couldn’t however keep the smile off his face as he read through that poem again.

Hadn’t this been what Jaskier had wanted all along? It would appear that the poet had finally started to see reason and change the way they thought about witchers.

And now that Jaskier found those other, happier poems, he couldn’t help but see the beauty in their verses. He still kept all of their poems, but now he no longer did so to vanish all traces of them off the earth, but so that he could read them when he felt his own loneliness creep up on him.

Time and time again he let his eyes wander over a poem that talked about the happiness that came with unexpectedly meeting family again that had been longed for. It made Jaskier think about his witchers, about Geralt who had been his best friend for years and about Eskel who Jaskier wished more than anything to meet again someday. And strangely enough, he also thought about the poet, about meeting them and talking about the beautiful things they wrote about.

More than once, Jaskier reached for his quill to put a hidden message about a possible future meeting in his next poem, but every time he stopped himself. He couldn’t do this. Not for as long as he wasn’t sure whether this person had destroyed Eskel’s happiness and the last bit of his already fragile self-esteem.

But then, there was another change, one Jaskier hadn’t expected and that made his heart beat painfully fast in his chest. No longer did the poems speak about vague occurrences of joy and beauty, but of the joy Jaskiergave the poet. About how his voice and his words could make the poet feel like maybe life wasn’t as bleak as they had been told. About how Jaskier’s responses gave them hope. About how they made them feel less alone.

The sincerity and almost admiration in these words startled Jaskier. This wasn’t what he had wanted to do when he had started to respond to the poet. And yet…he couldn’t deny that he too felt a strange sense of companionship whenever he found another one of the poems. As strange as it sounded, but the poet had become the closest Jaskier had to someone he could talk to. Jaskier had no idea where his friends were, but no matter where he went, sooner or later, the poet’s words would reach him again. And damn him, it was nice having someone think of him and craft beautiful verses just for him.

Guilt gnawed at Jaskier’s insides and he wished it would be different, but he found himself looking forward to finding the next poem, always praying with all his might that it wouldn’t be about witchers.

It was nearly autumn when Jaskier found the poem that made his chest tighten with a strange emotion he couldn’t place.

The poem was so full of longing that it became hard for Jaskier to breathe. It was about yearning to meet Jaskier, of seeing his smile and feeling the gentleness of his hands. It was about the soul-crushing knowledge that they would only disappoint Jaskier if they ever met.

Jaskier’s hands trembled as he took that poem off the notice board. He caressed the small picture of the goat that had gone from being a hated mockery to something that made Jaskier smile whenever he saw it.

That night he got so close to telling the poet where to meet them.

The song with the directions was already written and he was already gathering his nerves to prepare himself to sing it the next day, when a sudden gust of wind made the stack of the stranger’s poems Jaskier had kept flutter through the air. Pages upon pages about how witchers were despised, about how they were fated to be alone and how no one would ever be able to see past their hideous scars landed all around Jaskier, accusing him of the betrayal he had almost committed.

His heart dropped like a stone and he forced himself to read through all of the poems again. Every verse, every line, every word that reminded him why he had sworn to himself to never forgive this poet.

When he was done, he stuffed the papers into the bottom of his back, telling himself he didn’t care about them crumbling and tearing.

When he left town, there he left no reply to the poet’s last poem. He only continued reading the notice boards to make sure the poet was still writing about things other than witchers, but Jaskier never responded anymore.

After a while, the poet too stopped writing.

His last poem was but a line, asking whether Jaskier was alright. It was so simple, so obviously worried that it took all of Jaskier’s will power not to respond and let the poet know that he was still there.

By the time it had become clear that no more poems would be written, Jaskier had almost convinced himself that he was happy about never having to hear from them again.

--

Though the thought of the poet didn’t leave Jaskier’s mind, no matter how hard he tried, Jaskier found someone far better.

Not a week after he had severed his connection to the poet for good and was back to performing his old songs about witchers, the door to the tavern Jaskier was playing at opened and a familiar figure entered.

Jaskier’s heart gave a jump and his fingers nearly fumbled when he recognised Eskel. The smile that spread across Jaskier’s face at the sight of the man he had longed to see again faltered, when he took him in more closely. Eskel was guarded most of the time, but now there was something more than that in his expression. He looked almost dejected and he had heavy bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days.

Jaskier’s chest clenched and he had to fight to keep up his happy performance persona. The Path must have been especially unkind to Eskel. Dread clawed at Jaskier’s heart and his voice trembled.

Was this the poet’s doing? Had their words reached Eskel after all and taken away any peace he might have had?

Jaskier’s eyes followed Eskel as he scanned the crowd before his eyes landed on Jaskier. For a heartbeat, something akin to fear flickered across Eskel’s expression, but then his eyes lit up and his shoulders slumped in relief.

As quickly as he could, Jaskier brought his performance to an end, claiming that he needed a break to give his voice some rest. He hurried over to Eskel and practically fell into his arms.

For a moment, Eskel stiffened at the touch, but then he returned the embrace almost desperately and pressed his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’re alright,” Eskel breathed, barely loud enough for Jaskier to hear.

“Of course I am,” Jaskier said as brightly as he could to ease Eskel’s worry and pulled back so he could properly look at Eskel. “Contrary to popular believe, I can go some time without getting into trouble.” He made no effort to try to be subtle about checking Eskel over for injuries. “Out of the two of us, I’m not the one who risks his life every day. What happened to you?”

Eskel stiffened slightly and his eyes shifted to the side, evading Jaskier’s gaze. “Nothing. I was just worried I had lost … a friend.”

Something in Jaskier’s chest softened and as they sat down at a table, Jaskier made a point of sliding in right next to Eskel instead of sitting down opposite of him.

For some inexplicable reason, Eskel still seemed hesitant to touch Jaskier as if he was worried Jaskier might withdraw if Eskel got to close, but his eyes raked over Jaskier as if he wanted to commit every inch of him to memory.

Jaskier scooted closer to Eskel until their thighs touched. He reached for Eskel’s hand and brushed a strand of hair behind his ears while talking about the thing Jaskier had seen since they had last met.

Ever so slowly, Eskel relaxed and leaned into the touch.

What had started as hesitant replies to Jaskier’s numerous questions about the Path quickly became a comfortable conversation, just like they had had when they had last seen each other.

The easiness with which words flowed almost reminded Jaskier of the easy exchange of words he had had with the poet.

He banished the thought as quickly as it had appeared.

He put his attention back to Eskel where it belonged and listened intently as Eskel told him about the monsters he had fought, about the places he had been and about the fact that for some reason, Eskel had been paid in knitting lessons from the very same old lady that had paid Eskel by giving him Lil Bleater a year ago.

As Jaskier laughed at that story and warmth spread through his chest, Eskel too smiled at him. It was a timid, gentle thing, barely enough to lift the edges of his lips properly, but it was big enough to twist the scars. And for once Eskel didn’t seem to mind.

The sight did something strange to Jaskier and suddenly he was filled with the urge to trace these beautiful lips with his thumb.

Eskel must have seen something shift in Jaskier’s expression, for he suddenly stopped talking and his eyes drifted down to Jaskier’s lips.

“Don’t stop,” Jaskier whispered. “I love the way you talk. It sounds almost like poetry.”

The hint of a blush crept into Eskel’s cheeks. “I…I could never write something as beautiful as your songs, but…” His lips twitched upwards and he lowered his head slightly. “You are very inspiring Jaskier. The way you talked about poetry…it made me pick up a pen too, after we parted last time.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. “You write poetry?”

“Not very well.”

Jaskier knew that his eyes were full of fondness for this wonderful, beautiful witcher, but he didn’t care if he saw. He was too relieved to hear that the poet hadn’t been able to take Eskel’s love for poetry away from him after all.

So fixated on that last piece of bitterness that Jaskier had carefully kept alive to remind himself not to contact the poet again, he couldn’t help the next words from slipping past his lips.

“Whatever you’re writing, I am sure it is better than those horrible poems I have had to read lately.”

Eskel froze and his eyes darted between Jaskier’s.

“What…what poems did you have to read?” His voice sounded strangely thick.

Jaskier’s brows knitted together and he waved his hand through the air dismissively, even as his chest clenched painfully. “Just someone who thought they should post their poetry on notice boards. It’s a good thing no one will ever have to read a word of theirs again.”

Eskel’s face fell and he drew back just enough that he wasn’t touching Jaskier anymore. “You really hated it that much?”

Jaskier huffed out a bitter laugh. “You would have too, if you had seen the things they wrote.”

Even while he said it, Jaskier knew that something was wrong. Eskel’s expression shuttered completely and he turned away from Jaskier.

Jaskier’s insides grew cold. For an uncomfortable moment that seemed to stretch on forever, he sat silently next to Eskel, wrecking his brain trying to figure out where he had messed up. Whatever it had been, it was clear that his presence made Eskel uncomfortable.

A half-hearted excuse left Jaskier, something about having to continue his performance.

Eskel only replied with a silent nod as Jaskier left the table to resume his playing. And when Jaskier risked a glance at their table during a song, he found that Eskel had already left.

Uncaring of the disappointed shouts of his audience, Jaskier’s voice broke off and he hastened back to their now empty table to gather his things.

Whatever he had done, to chase Eskel away, he needed to fix this.

He grabbed his cloak and dropped a couple of coins on the table to pay for the meal he had had earlier, when his eyes fell on something lying on the table. A slip of paper with some flimsy excuse for why Eskel had to leave on it.

For a heartbeat Jaskier only stared at it, uncomprehending what he was seeing.

But there was no two ways about it. The writing that now stared back at Jaskier was the same handwriting he had been reading for the past months. It was the poet’s handwriting.

Without a second thought, Jaskier bolted out of the tavern and after Eskel.

“Wait!” he called out to him when he caught sight of him disappearing into an alleyway.

His breath came heavy and his lungs burned from the sudden sprint, but Jaskier didn’t stop until he caught up with Eskel who stood with his back to Jaskier, obviously unwilling to face him.

“Eskel,” Jaskier said helplessly. “I-“

“I’m sorry,” Eskel interrupted and his shoulders tensed. “I didn’t know – If I had known how much you hated the poems I would have stopped.”

For the first time since Jaskier could remember, he found no words. His mind was racing, connecting memories to his knew knowledge and making connections where before there had been nothing but false conclusions.

Jaskier’s uncharacteristic silence must have been reply enough for Eskel, for he half-turned to him, just enough for Jaskier to see his scars.

“I didn’t mean to make you hate me,” Eskel said quietly and his voice was tight. “I am sorry I made you miserable with my poems all these months. I’ll stop. I promise, you won’t have to read anything like that again. You won’t even have to see me. I just…after I didn’t hear from you again, I needed to make sure you were still alive.”

“You didn’t,” Jaskier said, voice breaking. “You didn’t make my life miserable. But they sounded….Eskel, why did your poems sound like yourlife was miserable? Why would you say such horrible things about yourself?”

Eskel flinched and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I didn’t know what else to write about. There wasn’t much else. Until…” Eskel’s voice trailed off.

“Until you wrote about flowers and knitting and family,” Jaskier ended softly for him.

Eskel nodded and Jaskier felt tears pricking at his eyes. “I loved them. And knowing that they came from you, that you are the one who found happiness out there, you have no idea how much that means to me.”

Without meaning to, Jaskier reached out for Eskel’s hand and before he knew it, Eskel had threaded their fingers together and turned to face Jaskier fully. They were so close. Jaskier could see every speck of gold in Eskel’s eyes as they flickered down to his lips.

“Jaskier.” His voice was hoarse and he looked like it took all his strength to say the one word. Slowly, Eskel leaned forward, and Jaskier could feel his heart skip a beat and his breath hitch. Eskel’s eyes widened and he drew back abruptly.

“I am sorry,” Eskel blurted out.

Jaskier’s brows drew together and he tried to follow Eskel’s movement and close the gap between them again.

“Why? Eskel, what could you possibly have to be sorry about?”

An unreadyable expression flashed across Eskel’s face. “About this.” He gestured vaguely between them. “And about my last poems. I didn’t think you’d ever find out they were from me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

It took Jaskier a second to understand what he meant, but when he did, his heart broke for the poet who had longed to feel Jaskier’s touch; for Eskel who had been scared that he would only disappoint.

Carefully, Jaskier lifted his hand, giving Eskel time to refuse the touch. When his hand settled on Eskel’s skin and gently caressed Eskel’s scars, Jaskier could feel Eskel’s shuddering breath ghost across Jaskier’s skin and Eskel closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

“You could never disappoint,” Jaskier whispered. “Never you.”

“Does that mean you didn’t mind those poems?” Eskel’s voice was filled with barely restrained hope.

Jaskier let out a huffed laugh. “Oh, I did very much mind them. For so long I had wanted to punch my poet in the face for what they wrote. And those letters…they made me want to kiss them.”

Eskel’s eyes snapped open. “You-“ he broke off, a bittersweet smile on his face. His next words were so quiet that Jaskier couldn’t be sure he was even meant to hear them. “At least I could make you want me as someone else.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side. His fingers slid down Eskel’s face, before they came to rest at the corner of Eskel’s lips.

“Oh Eskel,” Jaskier breathed, stepping impossibly closer. “The one thing holding me back was the thought that it wasn’t you.”

“Jaskier…” Eskel came no further. Before any more words of fear or self-doubt could leave him, Jaskier pressed his lips against Eskel’s.

Eskel let out a soft gasp, before returning the kiss, only interrupting it for long enough to whisper words to Jaskier that were simpler and yet more beautiful than any poem could be.

For the first time in what felt like too long, Jaskier responded to his poet’s words, with the same simple words that made Eskel’s face light up in a way that made Jaskier doubt that he would ever write about loneliness and feeling unlovable ever again.

[themaribatpit]

Saturday Challenge: Double Crossover

Written by: The Maribat Pit   Prompt: Double Crossover Rated: M rating just to be safe (sexual references, mostly because of some very unsavory things Lila thinks and implies about Marinette.) Marinette x Jason Phantom of the Opera (specifically Hush Jason, from 2020′s Death in the Family).

A/N (Maribat fangirl): There is going to be a lot of class salt, Lila salt and some heavy duty character bashing.  I’m going to be upfront, there’s characters being called harlots. A/N (DC fanboy): My S.O. and I pretty much did karaoke while writing this.

Paris, 1875. Marinette worked in her parents bakery, while she loved her family dearly, she was dissatisfied with her current lot in life. She wished to become a singer, and everyday as she walked in the streets of Paris to bring flour to the bakery, she would stop and stare at the Conservatoire de Paris. The enchanting music and singing could be heard even in the streets.

Listening to music always reminded her of her favourite fairy tale told by her father, the one about  ‘Angel of Music’. She would sit on the street across the Conservatoire, close her eyes and listen to the beautiful music emanating from it. Once she tried to sing along, but passersby would be swift to yell at her to stop. They described her voice sounding like a rusty hinge.

Upon her 15th birthday, her parents presented to her a once in a lifetime opportunity. They had presented her with an approved application to the Conservatoire, they had saved enough money for tuition and would be sending her there to chase her dreams as an opera singer. Marinette held her parents tightly, thanking them constantly for the amazing opportunity.

That night, Marinette was unable to sleep, she was beaming with energy and excitement. She could not believe how her luck was changing, how she would be going to the musical academy of her dreams.

The next morning however she would be in a nervous panic for her first day of lessons. Running about the home, getting prepared, packing her bags. She even forgot to eat breakfast, she ran out the door with a croissant in her mouth, much to the chagrin of her parents.

However, her dream academy soon became a waking nightmare to her. She would be tormented daily by all her peers, especially one Lila Rossi, the prima donna of the academy. Every professor would sneer at her low birth, and did nothing when the others tried to sabotage her standing at the Academy.  She tried to keep her head held high, even as everyone else looked down on her for being a baker’s daughter. Marinette ignored the comments and rumours about how she was able to attend the prestigious academy.  Rumours that she dared not repeat, about how she and her parents must be criminals if they were able to afford to send her to the academy.  

It wasn’t enough for her to be stuck in the chorus, Lila Rossi wanted to make sure her place as prima donna of the academy was ironclad. A couple of the teachers felt that she was growing more temperamental, more complacent, and their eyes began to wander for a dancer to take her place.  The other dancers were unwilling to take her place, all except for Marinette, who saw it as a shining opportunity.  For Lila, this simply would not stand.  

The one time Marinette found a pair of scissors that had been used to cut the laces on her pointe shoes.  The same scissors that were missing from her sewing box days earlier. She decided that the time had come to confront Lila once and for all.

Marinette confronted her just before rehearsals began, scissors in hand, in front of everyone.  “Is it true?” she called, everyone turned to look at them.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lila gasped.  She looked down to see her wearing her worn out slippers, before looking back up at her face.  “You do know you’re meant to be wearing your toe shoes now, right? The show is in a few days.” she reminded her.

“I do,” she breathed, “I also know it was you, you’re the one who cut the laces on my pointe shoes.”

Lila gasped and stepped back, everyone else was shocked by the accusation. She looked away for a moment, and squeezed her eyes shut.  Marinette knew the trick well from their acting classes at the academy, she was getting ready to make it look like she was crying.  “Why? Why would you accuse me of something like this?” she made sure her voice wavered as she spoke, “what reason do I have to sabotage a background dancer’s shoes?”

Marinette knew she had lost the battle before it had even begun, every dancer would move to protect Lila and her crocodile tears.  Lila was the prima donna, the daughter of a diplomat, and she had the entire academy in the palm of her hand.  “Perhaps there was some mistake,” she muttered, walking away from her classmates rushing to defend Lila’s fake tears.  It was useless trying to explain that the scissors were stolen from her, and that this was an elaborate setup.  It was her word against Lila’s, as the directors tried to command the dancer’s attention, Marinette ran.  

Once again, she tried to keep her head held high, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe her when she told them about Lila’s machinations.   She made a habit of keeping her costumes and pointe shoes hidden.  On occasion bringing them home whenever she visited her parent’s bakery, somewhere that little saboteur would not even think to look for them.

Months later, tragedy struck again when she received a letter informing her that her parent’s bakery had been burned.  Her parents, her hopes, her dreams all burned to ash in one night.  It was made worse by the fact that one rehearsal, Lila snatched the letter out of her hands and read it aloud for the entire company of dancers and singers to hear.   She assumed that it would be some kind of love note, probably preparing to spread rumours about Marinette sneaking off into the night with a mystery lover.  Instead, Lila simply made a show of pitying Marinette, “poor thing, it’s worse than I thought.  Unless you can find a patron to support you, your days at the academy are going to be numbered.”

Just as the theatre managers had arrived, Marinette fled, keeping her head down as tears were welling up in her eyes and blurring her vision.  Since the day she arrived she had been mocked, humiliated, tormented simply so that one girl could have the adoration and sympathy of her fellow performers.  Through all the salacious rumours and lies, she tried her best to ignore them and carry herself through it all.  The loss of her parents, their bakery, and now Marinette’s hopes and dreams, it was all too much to bear.  

Marinette ran to an empty music room to cry her heart out, she sat right against the wall, knees curled up to her chest and sobbed into her legs. In this state of absolute despair, she began to sing a song of her favourite fairy tale that her father would sing to her whenever she had a nightmare.  She sang a soft, painful prayer for the Angel of Music and a farewell to her lost parents. “Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say goodbye…”, her singing was hoarse, off key, full of sorrow.

The more she sang, the harder she cried. Soon to the point that she could not complete the song. However, a disembodied voice sang the remaining verse for her. Marinette paused from her crying to look for the voice, it felt as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. It was hypnotising, elegant, enchanting. She walked out of the music room to try to find the source of the singing.

“Come to me, Angel of Music.” The voice sang, in a smooth tenor voice, luring Marinette as if she was a moth attracted to a flame. The voice led her to a musical hall, reserved only for the academy’s annual showcase. She turned the door knob, to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She peeked her head through the door to see a cloaked figure playing the organ, the source of the enchanting voice. “Insolent girl, this slave of fashion. Basking in your glory.” The figure angrily sang “Ignorant fool, this prima donna.”

“Angel of Music, is that you?” Marinette tentatively asked the figure. The figure stopped playing, and turned around to face her. Marinette was taken aback by the figure, he was a tall man, wearing a red mask on the left side of his face. Another distinctive feature other than his magnificent voice was the white streak of hair and piercing green eyes.

“You are unlike any of the fools in this academy. You did not join this academy for fame or fortune. No, you came here because of your love of music.” The figure told her. He took a deep breath and composed himself, straightening his jacket. Then he raised an arm, reaching out to Marinette. “I am your Angel of Music, come to me Angel of Music.”  Marinette walks forward and accepts the Angel’s hand, thus beginning their first musical lesson together.

Marinette’s talent and ability in music skyrocketed with her extra-curricular lessons.   Her mysterious patron was also the one continuing to fund her education at the academy.  Meanwhile, no one else had the time to spread rumours about Marinette, not when there were rumours of a ghost haunting the Conservatoire.  

Unbeknownst to Marinette, she was the key to establishing control over a very profitable endeavour for her mysterious patron. The managers were being extorted to the tune of 20,000 francs and requested that box five remain open.  This money was nothing to them, especially when the sons and daughters of the wealthy and powerful were attending.  Very few had seen Jason’s face, and if they did, they would draw back in fear.   It was the result of a boyhood accident that left him changed and altered in more ways than one.  Taking control of the Conservatoire was merely the first step in taking control of an entire city.  This girl, Marinette, was the key to captivating their attention.  She would hold their attention and adoration as the rising star of the academy, drawing their eyes away from his growing influence and power.  Using talents and potential that they had cast aside, twisting their own hubris against them.  

Months later, everyone in the academy worked towards its annual showcase for its patrons, the nobility and all family members of its students. Lila had grown bored of tormenting Marinette, and had moved on to other victims.  She had her other dancers and singers wrapped around her little finger, and all eyes would be on her at the annual showcase.  

At last the day of the annual showcase had arrived, Lila sat at her personal preparation room, after all she would be the star of the show. She walked over to her wardrobe and opened it, she then screamed in horror to see her dress tattered and in pieces.

In the days leading to the showcase the Director of Conservatoire de Paris had received threatening letters demanding 20,000 Francs, box 5 to remain vacant and worse of all to replace Lila Rossi with some baker’s daughter. Director Bourgeois scoffed at the threats, tossing the letter away.

The next day during the rehearsal for one of the ballet numbers, students and teachers paid no mind to the threats that were outlined in the letter. Until one of the dancers looked up and gasped in horror. The other dancers looked up to find the stagehand hanging from the rafters. The theatre soon bursts into screams of fear as they all see the dead body of the stagehand.   Director Bourgeois ordered all faculty members and students present to remain silent of the murder. This prestigious institution could not afford such a scandal this close to such an important showcase. As the Director inspected the body, he found a letter titled to him attached to the corpse of a stagehand.

Director Bourgeois read the second letter with shaky hands, it read “Monsieur Bourgeois, good day to you. It seems you did not take my threat seriously. I present to you this corpse to show my sincerity. I see you have a young daughter, pray that no harm would befall her. I shall reiterate my demands, 20,000 francs, box five remain vacant and Mademoiselle Marinette shall replace the harlot Lila Rossi.”

Director Bourgeois collapsed into his chair, wiping his sweat. Until he heard a scream from outside his office. He ran out as fast as he could to see Lila Rossi confronting Marinette. Crocodile tears flowed from Lila’s eyes as she accused Marinette of sabotage, purposefully doing so in front of the Director's office.  

“How could you Marinette?” Lila wailed, “Whatever your reasons, how could you do this to me? To the Conservatoire?”

Marinette merely said “Lila, don’t you stay in a private room with guards patrolling the hallway outside?” She shrugs, “I was in my dormitory last night. Besides, how could anyone sneak into your room at night, unless they were a phantom?”

Director Bourgeois goes pale at Marinette’s implication, he had to intervene quickly, before the situation got worse. He attempted to placate Lila, “Now now mademoiselles, I can’t punish anybody unless we have solid evidence. As the saying goes ‘the show must go on.’ Signora Rossi, as you are currently unable to perform, I’m afraid Mademoiselle Marinette will have to take your place.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the offer given to her, she could not believe it. Director Bourgeois himself offered her the star role for this year’s showcase. It is all as her Angel of Music said would happen. She accepted the role wholeheartedly and thanked the director profusely, she skipped back to the musical hall to begin rehearsals, now as the main lead.

Lila’s jaw dropped to see the director siding against her, how he gave away her role to that peasant without any hesitation. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, she stomped her way back to her bedroom to begin scheming the ultimate humiliation for Marinette. She was so distracted with her rage, she had not noticed a shadowy figure following her.

Lila planned to show the entire Opera house just who Marinette was, little more than a filthy peasant who got lucky.  She was supposed to have packed her bags and left months ago, after her parents and their pathetic little bakery burned down.  “This Opera Phantom had a lot of nerve calling me a harlot, when Marinette is probably his little harlot.” she muttered harshly in the darkness.  She searched the costume room for the lead actress’ dress, a long flowing gown that brushed against the floor.  It was made with the finest fabrics that money could buy, it almost broke Lila’s heart to sabotage it.  She would rather die than see it worn by some peasant girl, a pretender, a talentless sham of a performer.  Before she can lay hand on the dress to destroy it, a gloved hand reaches out and grabs her by the wrist.  A voice interrupts her, “What do you think you are doing with that?”

Lila slowly turns around to see a grotesque figure staring at her.  In the candlelight, she was horrified by the person she saw. The left half of his face was severely burned, almost completely disfigured. His bright green eyes flared with a fury that genuinely terrified Lila as the figure glared at her. She immediately drops everything and screams, as she runs out the door as fast as her legs would carry her, wailing and screaming how the ghost is trying to kill her. “He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera!” she wails as he chases her down. The Phantom pursues his prey. Just as Lila runs around a corner, the ghost is there waiting for her. She gives another horrified scream, falling to the floor and trying to crawl in the opposite direction. “No no no, please don't kill me!” She begged as tears blurred her vision.

Her howls and pleas of mercy attract nearby students, teachers and guards. They all arrive to see Lila screaming like a maniac on the floor, alone and raving about some ghost hunting her down. “The ghost is real! He is real I tell you! He’s going to kill me!” she sobbed. As Lila was being escorted out of the academy, gossip spread like wildfire. Within hours everyone would be talking about how Lila had lost all of her sanity because of the ghost.

They had no other choice at that moment, the show had to go on.  If they wanted the night to go smoothly, with no one noticing anything strange or peculiar, they had to meet the Phantom’s demands.  Marinette stood there, centre stage, with all of Paris’ most influential in the audience. She began to sing her show stopping aria.  

As she glided across the stage and looked out into the audience, her eyes searched for the man in the red mask.  She liked to imagine her Angel of Music beaming at her with pride, without him, she would still be that sad little girl crying in the music room.  She sang as loudly and as clearly as she could, hoping that her voice would pierce the heavens clearly enough for her mother and father to hear.  

As she reached her crescendo, she peaked with an E6. Her voice echoed across the entire hall with the sharpness and perfection of a veteran soprano singer. The audience collective dropped their jaws at the spectacle. Marinette ended her aria with a bow, and the theatre erupted with a thunderous round of applause.  

Jason watched from his seat in box five, with a self satisfied smile on his face.  From that day forth, he would see to it that all eyes were on her.