#do people use anti tags at all for succession? i feel like most of the fan content is booing & throwing tomatoes at like every character

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

The Renegade

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: This is why I’m writing to you, Tess. Do you see how much trouble am I? How unstable and not anywhere good for him? I can’t fall in love with him and he can’t get closer, I’m a weak bitch: I’m gonna fall for him if you don’t help me. I walked too many meters of bad decisions before, I can’t cross another ocean. You are my only hope, The renegade - Your parents ask you to try seeing a therapist, Tess, and you agree under one condition: she can't let you fall in love with Joel Miller. A fic in the format of letters, from you to Tess. 🐾

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Warnings/tags: Explict +18, no outbreak AU, slow burn, fluff, smut, kinda loser reader? lol, implied age gap, coming of age, no use of y/n

Word count of the prologue + chapter 1: 6,4k

Tabby note: This will be a quick fic, I promise! I needed to take it off my head, it was clogging everything else at this point lol I really wanted an anti-hero protagonist instead of the usual good girls I write. She is messy and adorable at the same time, I'm really proud of how the story is taking shape! Hope you like it!

PROLOGUE

Austin, July 2024

Dear Tess,

You said I could write you in any format as long I’m true to what I’m putting out. That’s some therapist bullshit, but since it’s you reading this mess, I will let it slide. I thought a lot about what to write down for you, not the usual overthinking, more of a “where do I begin?”. Remember, you were the one who told me to write this if I can’t say out loud what it is inside my head while we are in session. This shit is hard, okay?

Let me start by being the smartpants I used to be: the human brain processes a thought faster than one meter per second. If I put together all the meters my brain ran while getting bad ideas, I could now cross the Atlantic Ocean.

Do you remember when you were a kid and your parents told you to avoid certain people? That strange feeling you get when you see a trainwreck of a person, the one that didn’t exactly do something bad, they just are stuck somewhere out of this reality and you think to yourself “I would never get in that position”? 

I did get in that position. I’m stuck in that somewhere. For years now.

Wish I could tell you that something horrible happened to me when I was younger, that my mother crushed all my dreams and my dad left one day to buy a pack of cigarettes. What about a strict family or an over-the-top religious one where I’m one of ten kids? Not even close to the truth, I’m an only daughter.

Middle middle class: enough money to live more than comfortably, far from the luscious lifestyle of the riches. I grew up knowing money didn’t come from the trees, I touched some grass, okay? The only thing expected by my kinda-aristocrat parents was that I would achieve academic success prior to a life full of achievements.

Chess competitions, spelling bee trophies (if I make a mistake a few pages down, it’s been a while since it), debate club captain, swimming team… You name it and I did. At seventeen I was voted as “most likely to be successful” and second place for homecoming queen because slutty Katie gave the basketball team a sloppy blowjob after practice. I had a first kiss and gave one bad handjob under the bleachers by that age.

Then university came and nobody, no fucking body, got wowed when I got an Ivy League on my first try. My head was too shoved up my ass to notice life around me. I wasn’t a pretty girl anymore because girls in my class were prettier than me, wasn’t the smartest since I wasn’t a teacher’s pet by just existing. 

My classmates didn’t care for me because I had no clue about social etiquette: what alcohol is acceptable to bring to a frat party? How do you pick up guys and let them suck on your tongue? Do you stay inside your dorm room when your roommate is fucking or do you wait outside?

I could do it with being the awkward girl, but not with being less than perfect. By the second semester, I was crying every day in the shower and realized I had no friends, just people who had the same interests as me back home. I tried so hard to become the number one in my class that life became hell the second my teacher gave me a lower score on a significant test.

I left her class and instead of crying, calling my parents to vent, or any other shit, I walked by the first frat house I saw and decided to lose my v card there with any guy that looked remotely cute. 

Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be a slut if I hadn’t had a penis inside me yet, but I knew that something was boiling up for years. My hand sneaking under my panties after a tiring day, humping on my pillow whenever I got frustrated, even the shoulder massager I got for after swimming practice humming on my clit did it. All I needed was a chance to forget for a moment the hell that was my life.

And I did. A sand blond guy with a shark smile that would fuck anything that moved in his direction, clearly a rich bitch whose parents got his spot in the university. I walked in his direction and took my panties off, put them in his hand, and the next thing I saw he was deep inside of me while I hopped him vigorously.

I cummed so hard that I think saw Jesus, whatever he might be. Not that the guy made me cum, I had an itch for so long that any scratch would do it. Any. After coming down my high it was clear in my mind: I would do anything that I didn’t do before.

Drink until pass out, rob beer from the liquor store, fuck my roommate's hot dad, cheat on a test. Nothing was out of limits. Well, I still had to finish university and never use drugs because that was a hard no for me.

You see, Tess, I’m so good at keeping my promises to other people and ignoring my own needs that I did finish university. Graduated with an honor badge and everything, my parents' wet dream. Except they no longer knew me and had no clue that I spent four years whoring myself and doing everything to ignore who I used to be.

And this is why on my first day in a big company, a trainee job earned right after college, I vomited inside the bathroom stall during onboarding. A panic attack a week later when my leader delegated some tasks. You give me a few months and my mind went blank the second I started a presentation to the c level board. I ran so fast outside that I fell on the sidewalk, got up, called for a cab, and never came back.

It’s been years since it.

My parents came to you because they still have some hope. I don’t, I think they are being dumb. Yes, I have an Ivy League degree, a bunch of useless skills (except for Mandarin, I can read so fast the menu at a Chinese restaurant) but nothing to do with when I WON’T come back to who I used to be. Do you think I sound miserable now? I’m miserable but I’m free in my kitchenette downtown, with my band t-shirts and two jobs. Living the dream.

Of course I’m fucking lying to you. I hate my life because the bitch running it is so dumb (that’s me, by the way).

It used to be kinda cool. The day I ran from the office was the same day I went straight to the arcade and played Mortal Kombat II so much that I broke the machine’s record. I went there for a full week before the manager, an emo guy looking like a teenager, decided to hire me.

It wasn’t enough to pay for my fancy downtown apartment, the one that got furniture that didn’t come from IKEA, so I had to move to the shithole I’m now. A mini studio in a building so old that if the city trembles, I’m sure that I will be turning into dust.

Years in this life, day after day, and I wasn’t mad about it. I was free, after all. It took about two years for my parents to find out that I wasn’t the prodigious child anymore and they took better than I expected. My mom cried, cursed my name, and asked if someone hurt me but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was the one who caused it.

Anyway, you already know this stuff. They told you their side of the story when letting you know that I would be your new patient. What exactly have they told you? About how I never introduced them to a guy and my dad had a very straightforward conversation with me about why lesbians were cool and he would accept me if I was one? Maybe they told you about how I got so drunk one Christmas that end up peeing on the petunias in the neighbor’s yard and my mom thought it was a good idea to tell them I was heavily sedated from a fear of flying? Nobody said it was easy to be an only child.

What you don’t know is that I have a love life, you are welcome. For years I’ve been sleeping around with a married man. I know, I know, shocking! Scandalous! His name is Peter and he is dumb as a door. But the dick is good and he sometimes treats me like a real person. I met him at a bar, gave him a blowjob in the back alley (Katie would be proud) and we see each other every week since.

Remember when I said my family isn’t religious? Thank god because that’s not everything. I have a boyfriend, a real one. It was a scorching day, the AC wasn’t working and I had to put the neckline out a bit before becoming a puddle. That’s when I see him, playing with his friends, having fun, being so fucking broad and handsome… I had to taste it.

Flirted a bit and boom, got him at the back door pumping deep inside of me while I was sitting on a desk. He was amazing, he was making me gooey to the point of screaming in pleasure. Too good to be true, when he was about to come I saw the little golden cross pending from his neck.

The next day he came back, told me how sorry he was, and asked me for an opportunity to show me how good he could be. I thought he wanted a second round, but nope, he wanted me to meet Jesus. I’m a people pleaser, Tess. It has been four months since I’m Mormon Isaac’s girlfriend. Every Sunday I attend the sermon, his family knows me and I haven’t slept with him since that first day. It marks also the four months I’m trying to break up with him.

You must think that I ain’t a good person and you are right, I’m not. Not the worst, but for sure not a fucking saint. I don’t come back in my decisions, anyone else with less brain would, but not me. I’m too stubborn to deal with the hell I made of my own life. Or used to, because now I’m head over heels for this guy, Tess.

Joel Miller. The stupid hunk who is older, wiser, and hot. Who I can’t stop thinking about since we met. Damn his pretty brown eyes and how they look into my soul. I’m a mess and I need some help dealing with it before he gets into my trap and I destroy him.

This is why I’m writing to you, Tess. Do you see how much trouble am I? How unstable and not anywhere good for him? I can’t fall in love with him and he can’t get closer, I’m a weak bitch: I’m gonna fall for him if you don’t help me. I walked too many meters of bad decisions before, I can’t cross another ocean.

You are my only hope,

The renegade

P.S. I won’t pay you shit, hope my parents paid you enough for this.

CHAPTER ONE

Austin, July 2024

Dear Tess,

Yes, I'm doing well, thank you for your concern, guess the rambling in my last letter got you worried about me. It’s a skill, I’m very good at making people worry. I'm marvelous, splendid, and well, fucked. By our last session, you asked me more details of how I ended up meeting Joel and I said to you “a lady never tells” and you didn't laugh, tough crowd. Let me paint you a picture then.

There are many regulars at the arcade. The asians dudes that go there after Kumon (been there, done that, I feel so sorry for them), the lone wolves of 40+ that still want to feel young since they can't get any pussy and, my favorites, the after-school reruns.

These little fuckers go there every week to burn some steam from their sugary-inflicted bodies, stay until 4 pm and go straight to their houses, to their mom and dad. I'm not bitter, I just hate teenagers.

I'm aware that it sounds like I'm on the wrong career path since they keep my economy going, but fuck it, teenagers give me the creeps. Except for the queers, they are quite nice. I have a baby lesbian (it’s pretty obvious) that I call 3 pm because she comes by this time twice a week, Ellie.

She is probably fifteen or so and everything I wasn't at her age. Firecracker, bossy with a dirty mouth – did I ever tell you that the first time I said “fuck” in front of my parents was after my meltdown? You can guess it. One of the only teenagers I got close to if I'm honest. She came by one afternoon, saw Mortal Kombat II, and hasn't left since.

“Who's The Renegade?” She asked me one time, checking out the scoreboard with disgust. Remember I beat the machine record? She was right after me.

“No clue, try harder.” I teased her thinking she wouldn't care and move on with her life, like people do.

But not Ellie, she tried really hard to break the fucking record. Week after week, I watched her trying her best from my glass display while wearing the ugly bowling striped shirt that is my uniform.

I saw him way before he saw me. Doing my regular afternoon routine, cleaning the games with some rubbing alcohol to avoid the sticky hands infecting everywhere, minding my business under the neon light. All good, until I saw broad shoulders (I have a type, okay? Sue me) playing the fucking Mortal Kombat II with Ellie by his side.

Broad, so fucking broad. Dark curls with some gray here and there adorning his ears. I must have made some noise because for a second he looked back and that nose? Yeah, that was the end of me.

“You were close, old man,” Ellie teased as the fight on screen got to an end. He glared at her before looking at his score. “Nah, you're full of shit. Not even close to me or The Renegade.”

“Yeah, if I was spending that much time here I would be second place too,” he groaned before gaining full height. That voice gave me chills as I pretended I haven't heard shit, trying to not sneak a look and failing every time.

And that was it, Tess. Not exactly your meet cute, sorry. He came back maybe three or four times, always polite, nothing else. I thought it would be a silent crush, a small one until I got bored. I’m constantly bored.

My second job is a little less orthodox, if you can call my first one that. A girl has to do what she has to to get that bag. On Christmas, I’m the Santa helper with a mini skirt and sweet smiles (you can imagine how many times I picked up desperate dads like that), by Easter, I’m your lucky bunny hopping around in white hot pants, when Thanksgiving is around the corner I’m the sluttiest turkey you ever saw. 

The mall manager pays me double because I let him once see my boobs and the poor guy is so lonely that he is more than sure that we will sleep together at some point.

“A vest with “can I help you?” tagline? Where is the skanky clothes?” I asked him one Saturday morning, thinking he made a mistake giving me the day costume.

“We’re getting more boomers and older visitors, we need someone to stay in a good floor spot and answer their questions,” he told me in a boring tone, the sadness in his eyes always a classic.

“Okay, if they ask me questions, what do I do? I don’t know shit about this mall except that you can buy powder by the public telephones and shouldn’t use the ladies bathroom on the second floor, that’s where Nora from Chipotle goes and that woman’s ass is rancid.” He furrowed his brows and dragged his hand on his face, taking his time to process what I had just said.

“Just be nice and bring them to someone who will be helpful, maybe a security guard, I don’t know. And don’t use cocaine while on the job, I can’t deal with another junkie here,” he said reinforcing the vest on my hands and urging me to get out of the room.

Now would be a good time to remind you that I don’t use drugs, never did. I might be many things in this life, but not a stoner. Not because I’m prudish or think drugs are bad for you, even if they are. I’m way too afraid about getting hooked once I realize that the play-pretend reality that they induce in your brain is better than this one. I’m self-destructive, but not stupid.

So there I was, in my lime neon vest, above a small platform with a big dark blue “information” written. Thinking about anything you can imagine, my shift lasts six hours and I can’t sit down, just a fifteen-minute bathroom break. One of my worst nightmares is to be alone with the dumb bitch inside my head, that’s why I hate silence.

When was the last time you went to a mall? They used to be a big deal in my younger days, but now they are dead. It’s so fucking slow, just little packs of people here and there. Not even music playing to alleviate the tension between me and my stupid brain.

“Miss?” A small voice called, I looked to the sides and saw nobody,  so they insisted. “Miss?”

I looked down on the platform and to my surprise, a toddler with big brown eyes and curly hair was calling me. Hesitating for a second, I climbed down my platform and crouched to get my eyes the same height as his, I read once that kids get more comfortable like that.

“Hm, yeah?” I asked unsure of how one talks with kids, shouldn’t he be there with an adult?

“I can’t find my uncle,” the poor kid was on the verge of tears, making me panic.

“Okay, let’s find him,” I said with very little confidence, unsure how to approach it.

Before I could think about what I would do, his hand found a place in mine, holding me like an anchor. I decided to go to the nearest security guard and hope for the best, one thing was to be a failure by myself and another was to fail a little kid.

We walked for about five minutes, the fucking mall had a small amount of guards. No fucking clue why nobody comes down there. The kid got a little tired of walking and held up his little arms, asking to be picked up.

I accepted it, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. Thinking about it now, as I write this to you, I can’t remember the last time somebody hugged me. We might need to talk about it in session.

“You tell me if you see him, okay? What does your uncle look like?” I asked still walking down the corridor, searching for the damn guard.

“Big, fluffy hair,” I laughed at how wholeheartedly the kid tried to answer it.

“Blue eyes? Dark hair?” He shook his head for the first one but nodded at the second.

Changing corridor, I saw from afar a big guy and a smaller figure talking with a guard and figured out it was the kid’s uncle. The man seemed agitated, speaking with his hands in the air. As I pressed my steps, the figures got more familiar. Made a signal for the kid, showing them when we were close enough and his face lightened up.

“Uncle Joel!” He shouted happily, as I put him down so he could run to the tall man.

That’s how I found out his name. Simple, discrete, direct. Jo-el. Suits him.

He immediately hugged the boy, kissing the top of his head. Ellie was at the side getting color back on her face, unshed tears in her eyes when she noticed me.

“I know you,” she started and I panicked a little. I don’t know why, I wasn’t doing anything weird, but something about breaking their bubble made me uncomfortable.

Joel looked up from his nephew’s face and furrowed his brows, not in a “who the fuck are you?” kinda way, more of a “wait, I do know you too”.

“Hm, yeah, I work at the arcade down the block,” I said in a monotone, looking into Ellie’s eyes, ignoring Joel’s.

“Are you safe? All good?” Joel asked in a soft tone, much softer than I imagined a man like him could do, to the kid.

“Yes,” the toddler replied searching for my hand again. My eyes got to the size of the moon, unaware of how to react.

“Thank you for helping him, we were about to lose our heads searching for him everywhere.” Joel gave me puppy eyes in his dearest manners and every inch of my body heated as he got up, gaining his tall size. 

A grown, big man being soft on the edges? The hottest thing I’ve seen and I fucked once Mormon Isaac.

I was ready to get back to my platform when Ellie shared stares with Joel, a language I hadn’t properly been introduced to in my formal education, but I think I can decipher:

Ellie looking straight, then bringing her eyebrows up - say something, Joel

Joel furrowing his heavy eyebrows and pouting a little, before looking towards the exit - no, let’s go home

Ellie rolling eyes and siding it in my direction real quick - she is right here, do something

Joel setting his jaw and looking directly at Ellie - I said no, let’s go home

Ellie narrowing her eyes and then nodding to the toddler - how did we got him back?

Joel glancing at his nephew, Ellie, and me before pouting a little bigger - okay, fine, you’re so annoying

Mind you I’m not a linguist in any way, I might have translated something wrong since I’m not fluent and the whole scene lasted no more than two seconds. I was highly confused when he put his hand on the toddler’s shoulder (mind you, who was still holding my hand) and cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry? It would be a pleasure having you with us,” he proposed in his most southern polite voice. I laughed a little, stupid bitch.

“That’s not… Necessary. Really. It’s okay!” I replied quickly, awkwardly trying to walk back. The kid’s hand grip got stronger.

“C’mon, stay. It’s the minimum I can do,” Joel insisted with another puppy eye.

“I used to g-get lost too, in the mall, you know? It’s okay! It’s just a full circle moment, but thank you!” I lied.

I was a prodigious child, way too smart for my age, and for sure not roaming around in a suburban mall. My parents weren’t strict, but they had a very clear vision of what was cool and what was trashy. Read in my room, go to museums and cinema exhibitions of foreign movies that I was able to watch without the subtitles? Hot and cool. Go to the mall, watch blockbuster movies, and eat a burger at the food court? Suburban and trashy. I got lost once at a library, though.

“He won’t stop giving you the puppy eye until you accept, c’mon,” Ellie replied gaining a double glare from me and Joel, who – in all truth – was still giving me puppy eyes.

“Some pizza wouldn’t hurt,” I said with an awkward lopsided smile. 

The duo stared at each other again, now that I had more familiarity with the language I think I can get better translations:

Ellie shotting up her eyebrows and inclining her head towards the front of her body - told ya, old man

Joel sighing before eyeing the food court direction - lead the way, brat

“Let’s go, Luke,” Ellie grabbed the kid’s hand from mine and started to walk.

“One sec,” I said before taking off my vest and placing it in the security guard’s hand, who looked at me puzzled. I would find a way out of trouble with the manager later on. “Okay, all good!”

“So… The arcade and the mall, you must be good with teenagers,” Joel started nodding in Ellie’s direction. He said in such a genuine matter that it took me back, not a single harsh reply in my brain.

“Not really, it’s more of a coincidence. I try to avoid them a little, though. They could shatter me with one comment.” I laughed a little, trying to break the awkwardness between us. He smirked a bit.

“I get it, Ellie likes to remind me that I’m no longer hip. Do people still use this word?” He asked chewing his cheek and I chuckled.

“I’m not sure. Maybe no? We are very much 20th-century material,” he smiled. 

Do I like to think it was because I hinted that I was old enough to drink, so old enough to fuck him? Yes. But I regretted it the moment that thought appeared in my head.

Don’t get me wrong Tess, even if I’m a slut I wasn’t trying to fuck Joel Miller when we got alone. It’s more of an old habit, a second skin. When I got the conclusion men were little needy bitches, I got laid often.

You pretend to be stupid and praise them on their big brain. Maybe they prefer it when you are a hopeless girl who needs a strong man to solve something that your small body can’t. Or, the classic, they just want a shy girl who has no idea of how pretty she is and is more than grateful that he is there to show her.

Men are simple creatures. The more you make yourself smaller and dumber, the more they want you. Nobody wants an opinionated woman who knows her worth, that isn’t sexy. It’s a sin being a woman who is not sexy all the time.

Something inside of me knew Joel wasn’t trying to pick me up. He was just an older guy with a life set and a family of his own, he wanted to be nice to the girl who helped his nephew.

“Your nephew is a sweet kid, very affectionate,” I said in a genuine tone, trying to clear a bit of my head.

“A good kid too, smart for his age. He will be three in a couple of days,” Joel's face lightened up talking about the toddler. I wondered if someone’s face ever got so bright thinking of me.

“Growing up fast?” I asked trying to keep up, I don’t much about raising kids except that parents feel like everything is way too fast.

“Yes, but there is a long way until he becomes a petulant teenager like Ellie,” he joked with tenderness.

“She is cool, just the right amount of sassy in her bones. Her friends too, they are well-behaved down the arcade,” I said thinking about the times I saw her with other weird teenagers there.

“Really? Good to know her friends treat her well, she needs that,” he replied quickly. I lost him for a second and couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“Why?” Could I sugarcoat my curiosity a bit? Of course, but my initial awkwardness was opening space for a comfortable conversation and I’m bad at calculating risk.

“We just moved, right before the school year. I’m from Austin, but Ellie no, she is from Boston. We lived there for a few years before moving back. Is tough to be the new kid, you know.”

The soft around the edges came back. I started to wonder how I never noticed Ellie’s accent, but it made sense.

“And why did you come back? Work?” I asked, again, without thinking further. Joel scratched his scruff while pondering how much detail he would give me.

“Boston got too heavy. Bad memories, you know? She needed a fresh start and I was missing the Texas sun.” My eyes searched for a ring on his hand for the first time, but there was nothing to see. Maybe a bad divorce? A widow?

“In that case, welcome home, cowboy,” I said mimicking holding a tip of a cowboy hat to him, who smiled a bit.

When we arrived at the food court, we went straight to the only pizza option available, the fucking Pizza Hut. The mall is shitty, if you haven’t noticed it yet Tess.

Ellie ordered everyone’s pizza as if she were introducing us to a new, exotic cuisine. Joel got amused, looking at her adoringly while petting his nephew's curls. I allowed myself to imagine what if my weekends were filled with this domestic view, if I would be happy to live such a mundane life and got surprised when the response was positive.

“Will you finally tell me who The Renegade is?” Ellie joked with a hint of truth. Joel rolled his eyes in good fun.

“A lady never tells,” I winked at her and Joel grinned with a little laugh. You see Tess, when you make a joke this is how people react, not scribbling something down their therapist's notepad. Rude as fuck.

The pizza could be better, but the company was more than good. I found myself laughing at Ellie’s puns, making comments about the arcade regulars. Joel tried to make me laugh a few times too, like an old friend. I felt good, felt normal instead of the constant weight on my shoulders.

At some point during our little chit-chat, I furrowed my eyebrows.

“How did Luke get lost? You haven’t told me that.” I questioned both of them, Ellie’s cheeks got pink. Joel made a motion for her to speak.

“Joel went inside a store and asked me to wait a little with Luke, to keep an eye on him for a second while he got something. I know,” she looked into his eyes with a guilty stare, “that I must hold Luke’s hand whenever we’re in a public place. I didn’t, started to look into a window shop thinking he was by my side.”

“It’s okay, you were holding tight to his hand on our way here,” Joel assured her.

If that man couldn’t get any hotter, he didn’t hold the weight of her mistakes against her. I swear that I don’t have daddy issues, I might have a Peter Pan syndrome or shit like that, but my dad was quite nice for a stuck-up guy. I’m not comparing dads, I’m comparing how to deal with delicate hearts: in that couple of hours I got to know a little more of them, I saw how Joel didn’t hold Ellie back, tried to shape her into something he wanted. Even inside of my own body I can’t do that with myself, be this level of kind.

I think Joel got me when it crossed my mind that I could fuck up and, maybe, he would still like me. I wouldn’t be a bitch, a bad girl to him. I would be just a person who made a mistake and he would still be there. What if my main kink is to be loved?

He paid for the meal, of course, a southern gentleman. I said goodbye, hinting I would be there when Ellie decided to show up at the arcade and she replied with a “hell yeah”. They left and I sighed, so light as if I had a spa day, but nope, just a good time with nice people. I might be lonely.

In a snap of fingers, I met the mall manager who questioned me why I wasn’t at the platform. The weight of the world came back on my shoulders, I reasoned that I was tired and wanted to go home as fast as possible.

“A kid got lost and I went to help him find his family. I think the slutty outfit might be a better idea next time, this shit is too complex,” I said shrugging before flashing him again with my boobs for a few seconds.

What? I had a nice meal with a good family, but I’m still not a saint.

Anyway, life followed its course. Saw Ellie sometimes at the arcade, Joel would greet me by name whenever he was there to pick her up, all good and normal. I told you, this is not your meet-cute story.

If you are wondering, yes, I saw Mormon Isaac the next day after the missing kid incident. Holy Sunday, couldn’t skip.

I don’t have exactly a wardrobe that screams “SLUT!”, but the vibe isn’t exactly good southern mormon girl. Jesus just wasn’t my thing growing up. My parents were a little paranoid about the christians, we avoided them at all cost. I had to thrift some stuff to attend Sunday preaching with Mormon Isaac.

It was so boring, every single Sunday. Thank God the pastor would scream from time to time on his speech, the only thing waking me up. Mormon Isaac, strangely as it seems, wouldn’t try to grab me a little here and there while we were inside the church.

“Are you okay?” I asked him once when he audibly swallowed when I touched the inside of his thigh when the pastor was speaking, or whatever.

“Yes. Please, not here, sweetheart,” he urged me and I rolled my eyes.

Every. Fucking. Sunday. For. Four. Months. He would only give me a peck after church, always in front of his family, if his parents weren’t making lunch he would drive me home and that’s it.

Sometimes we would do other stuff too. He would take me to the cinema to see a movie, always under PG-13 though. I would try to jack him off and he wouldn’t allow me, I once tried to give him a blowjob and he said he was waiting for the right time. We fucked rough in the staff room and now I was a pervert, make it make some sense.

You can imagine my surprise when, in the middle of an afternoon, Mormon Isaac appeared from nowhere at the arcade.

“Guess whose four-month anniversary is today?” He asked me while holding a box. I have no idea how to pray, but I know that I prayed for every single entity in the sky for a surprise break up as a git.

“Wow, lucky me,” I said with a fake smile. If my job was boring that afternoon, it was about to become worse.

From the corner, I saw Ellie picking up her backpack from the floor as I opened the box. A deep voice greeted my name and I got cold.

Mormon Isaac was looking at me like he was the best boyfriend in the whole world. Joel appeared to be curious, getting close to the glass display I call my office.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” he said looking at the bible in my hands. A fucking bible. Damn you, Mormon Isaac.

“She attends the Sunday preach every week,” Mormon Isaac promptly corrected with his most polite smile. I wanted to die.

“Thank you very much, I will cherish it.” I smiled back, looking into Joel’s eyes with a silent rescue request when Mormon Isaac glanced at his phone.

“See you tomorrow-,” he started and I cut it before he could finish that thought.

“For the bible study, yes. It will be a pleasure,” I said faking another smile, Joel looked so confused and amused by the whole situation. Mormon Isaac grinned so hard that I thought he was about to cum in his pants.

“That’s fantastic! I will let my mom know!” He said before grabbing his phone and walking out, leaving me and Joel behind.

I sighed and dropped my head into my arms, right at the bible. Joel's laugh, I sound I grew to adore, echoed and I glanced up from my arms.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in good fun, looking at how distressed I was.

“You do me a favor: never, I said never, open the door for a Jeovah’s witness. I accepted one preach from this mormon customer and now he plays rehab with me,” I said avoiding the fact that the said mormon was my boyfriend on the following day we would meet for a date.

“I will. Do you need an excuse for bible study?” He asked looking somewhere behind me like he was forming a plan inside his head, both hands on my glass display while Ellie waited.

“Does it involve religion or any kind of cult?” I half-joked. Half because if hot Joel said he wanted me to go to any kind of religious ceremony I would have another panic attack and leave.

Joel looked to Ellie, who looked back at him and both nodded. This time I can’t translate, sorry, I’m still in the process of getting the language's grammatical structure.

“Tomorrow is Luke’s birthday. Surprise party. You don’t want to break the poor’s kid heart, c’mon,” Ellie said faking seriousness. Joel nodded back.

“There will be food?” Ellie confirmed. “Booze?”

“Do you like beer?” Joel asked, also in fake seriousness. Except that his death stare made me fucking wet.

“Pass me your phone so I can give you my number, text me the address,” I turned my palm up to grab the said phone, he smirked and Ellie laughed.

And this, Tess, is how I met Joel, got my little heart full of him just to let him slip into my life. What can I say? I never wanted to save a horse more than the moment he lassoed me.

I think you have more than enough material for our next session already. I will give you that yes, I speak more about what is inside my head like this. I think it might be because it feels strangely similar to submitting a paper, you know how much I love being the teacher’s pet.

Don’t forget: I can’t fall in love with this guy,

The Renegade

P.S. In case it isn’t obvious, I don’t have daddy issues. I DON’T. I know what it looks like, but I don’t have it. Don’t even try.

prev | next

[stromuprisahat]

The differences between the verbally abusive man and the physical batterer are not as great as many people believe. The behavior of either style of abuser grows from the same roots and is driven by the same thinking. Men in either category follow similar processes of change in overcoming their abusiveness—if they do change, which unfortunately is not common. And the categories tend to blur. Physically assaultive men are also verbally abusive to their partners. Mentally cruel and manipulative men tend to gradually drift into using physical intimidation as well. In this book you will meet abusers on a spectrum, ranging from those who never use violence to those who are terrifying. The extent of their common ground may startle you. One of the obstacles to recognizing chronic mistreatment in relationships is that most abusive men simply don’t seem like abusers. They have many good qualities, including times of kindness, warmth, and humor, especially in the early period of a relationship. An abuser’s friends may think the world of him. He may have a successful work life and have no problems with drugs or alcohol. He may simply not fit anyone’s image of a cruel or intimidating person. So when a woman feels her relationship spinning out of control, it is unlikely to occur to her that her partner is an abuser. The symptoms of abuse are there, and the woman usually sees them: the escalating frequency of put-downs. Early generosity turning more and more to selfishness. Verbal explosions when he is irritated or when he doesn’t get his way. Her grievances constantly turned around on her, so that everything is her own fault. His growing attitude that he knows what is good for her better than she does. And, in many relationships, a mounting sense of fear or intimidation. But the woman also sees that her partner is a human being who can be caring and affectionate at times, and she loves him. She wants to figure out why he gets so upset, so that she can help him break his pattern of ups and downs. She gets drawn into the complexities of his inner world, trying to uncover clues, moving pieces around in an attempt to solve an elaborate puzzle. The abuser’s mood changes are especially perplexing. He can be a different person from day to day, or even from hour to hour. At times he is aggressive and intimidating, his tone harsh, insults spewing from his mouth, ridicule dripping from him like oil from a drum. When he’s in this mode, nothing she says seems to have any impact on him, except to make him even angrier. Her side of the argument counts for nothing in his eyes, and everything is her fault. He twists her words around so that she always ends up on the defensive. As so many partners of my clients have said to me, “I just can’t seem to do anything right.” At other moments, he sounds wounded and lost, hungering for love and for someone to take care of him. When this side of him emerges, he appears open and ready to heal. He seems to let down his guard, his hard exterior softens, and he may take on the quality of a hurt child, difficult and frustrating but lovable. Looking at him in this deflated state, his partner has trouble imagining that the abuser inside of him will ever be back. The beast that takes him over at other times looks completely unrelated to the tender person she now sees.

Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men- Chapter 1: The Mystery (Lundy Bancroft)

I won't go through all of Mal's star moments, the best is to be found under my analysis tag or generally #anti Malina, but from the top of my head:

They have many good qualities, including times of kindness, warmth, and humor...

Post exactly about this.

Verbal explosions when he is irritated or when he doesn’t get his way. ... everything is her own fault.

She wants to figure out why he gets so upset, so that she can help him break his pattern of ups and downs.

At times he is aggressive and intimidating ...

Her side of the argument counts for nothing in his eyes...

At other moments, he sounds wounded and lost, hungering for love and for someone to take care of him.

[notyouraryang0dd3ss]

https://www.tumblr.com/shitswiftiessay/749223380728889344/taylor-sees-her-prot%C3%A9g%C3%A9-out-charting-her-for-the

saw this in the anti tag and i have so many things to say (it's gonna be a bit long):

one: those tweets prove further that the reason taylor keeps coming on billboard hot 100 lists is because swifties are chart obsessed and have no problem streaming her songs all day if it means it'll appear on charts. they've got nothing else going for them except 'she keeps topping the charts' because there is zero songwriting, melody, performing or visual talent in any of her songs or tours.

two: taylor distanced herself from/turned on olivia (i still don't know the details of the deja vu suing case so i won't make assumptions as to what exactly happened between them) as soon as olivia started threatening her fame. in my biased opinion, i would also say that olivia is a better songwriter and overall artist than taylor (i love her guts album), and taylor didn't like seeing that a young artist could potentially outshine her. so they're not friends anymore. taylor then latched on to sabrina because she wasn't as threatening to her career as olivia was, but now that espresso has the potential to top taylor's song on the charts, swifties are turning on her too. and if this continues, i have no doubt that so will taylor. (side note: espresso is such a fun summer bop!)

it's extremely pathetic that taylor feels so threatened and insecure because of up-and-coming 20-something year old artists despite being arguably one of the biggest pop artists in the world right now.

i also feel bad for both sabrina and olivia. imagine just starting out in the music industry, and your childhood idol seeming so eager and genuine in being your best friend, but completely flips around when you show any potential of being successful. taylor is a vile person.

also! you are my fav anti ts blog! i love your takes on all this stuff. keep doing what you're doing queen

“you are my fav anti ts blog!” omg stop 😳 i’m blushingggggggg

sorry this took me so long to respond to. personal life events are occurring and i also have the attention span of a goldfish now for some reason. im going to answer in order of your points:

one: swifties are the streaming farms they keep accusing sabrina of using. also taylor swift herself has probably bought and used streaming farms more than any other person on the spotify top 10 list. its this and taylor is sinister enough to drop new releases to block artists from getting #1’s (she did this recently with billie right?). also swiftie chart obsession just shows how insecure they are??? toxic by britney spears never went #1 and its her most popular song. i’ve never seen a fanbase as insecure as swifties because the way they lash out over even the perception of a threat towards taylor is just…so inappropriate? its such a disproportionate reaction to whatever the “threat” is (in this case, charting). like the fact swifties keep coming into the anti tag just demonstrate how intensely insecure they are. no other fanbase is so fragile they go out of their way to go and bully people for not liking their fave. like its usually the other way around, antis harassing stans. but you have swifties coming into the anti tag (where we appropriately tag and do not engage with swifties) and harassing us? for not liking her? in the anti tag? its really a testament to their insecurity that they must bulldoze anything that threatens them and their fave. which ties into the second point-

two: wasn’t sabrina like olivia’s opp because olivia’s ex cheated on her with sabrina? is that correct? that’s makes it so nasty that taylor went out of her way to purposely befriend sabrina after cutting ties with olivia. and immature! and petty! and just reflective of how low taylor stoops to make people feel like shit! not only that, but someone who is almost half her age! how awful do you have to be to do that? olivia is more talented than taylor and poses a massive threat to taylor because the music they both make appeals to the same demographic of people. the problem is olivia is actually a part of that demographic, which threatens the fuck out of taylor. how lame do you have to be to feel threatened by other female artist success all the time? and not only that, but the same people you know who adore you (and therefore easier to manipulate because you know they will trust every word out of your mouth) because you’re their childhood idol? what a horrible person.

and espresso is a reallyyyyyyy good pop song!!!

[jedi-enthusiast]

I have to say that your breakdown of themes and issues in the prequels is absolutely BEAUTIFUL.

I’m still always surprised that not everyone sees it this way because

1. That’s clearly how it’s intended to be viewed.

2. It always just seems so plainly spelled out for us.

I am not an Anakin fan, I have more of a love/hate dynamic with him, but it seems like it’s Anakin apologists above anyone else who like to demonise the Jedi and I just don’t get how people don’t realise you don’t have to choose one or the other. The downfall of Anakin and the Jedi go hand in hand because they were both manipulated by Palpatine. It really takes away from the emotional impact of the story if you don’t acknowledge that the Jedi were a genuinely good group of people who did support Anakin to the best of their ability, he was just convinced that that wasn’t actually the case.

Although I do feel empathy for the hardships Anakin endured, the Jedi had such a beautiful culture and way of life and people are missing out on so much by pretending they’re the “real villains”.

Also it was obviously genocide. How is there even a debate about that? I don’t know if there’s ever been an entirely successful genocide in history because it’s essentially impossible to completely eradicate a group of people but that doesn’t stop it from being classified as genocide. If you have to argue that it technically isn’t genocide, you probably don’t have the strong argument you think you do.

Thank you so much <3

I'm gonna be completely honest, I don't want this blog to be a platform for people to debate if the Jedi were "really good" or not with me (hence my blog description) and I don't really like getting into debates with people who are anti-Jedi or Anakin apologists.

Firstly because, in order to think the Jedi are the "bad guys" of Star Wars, it requires a certain level of bad faith assumptions, ignorance, and disregard of literally everything that canon shows us.

Secondly, because I have anger issues and it's kinda hard to work on controlling my anger and not letting it control me when I'm arguing with people who--at best are saying the Jedi caused their genocide, and at worst are saying they deserved it. Especially since Star Wars is my comfort franchise and the Jedi are my comfort characters--so it's just frustrating to see them so mischaracterized.

I'm glad my 2 am anger-induced, sleep deprived, aggressive rant resonated with you, though lol

I'm not a big fan of Anakin either and I'm largely of the opinion that Anakin caused most of the problems he had in general, but I'm not completely unsympathetic to him--my main issue lies with his apologists.

I don't really care if other people like him, I can see the appeal and I get that he's your blorbo. I also don't really care if other people don't like the Jedi, I have the "anti-Jedi" and "Jedi critical" tags blocked for a reason. I don't engage in debates with these people because I know it's pointless, and I leave them be--let them have their side of the internet and I have mine.

I do, however, have a problem with people coming onto my blog and posting their ignorant, bad-faith arguments. Like what you like, have your opinions, but keep them out of my space. Y'know?

I'm all for letting people like what they like and have different opinions on the media and leaving them be, but the moment you come onto my blog- (which literally says "this is a Pro-Jedi blog, fuck off with any Anti Jedi bullshit you have and keep it to your own page") -and start spouting that shit is the moment all of that flies out the window.

And yes, it's insane that the words "well, it wasn't actually a genocide" were actually present in that person's argument.

[crisalidaseason]

forgot to post this here, I usually post on ao3 first so feel free to check there for more new fics quicker (same username as here and a paola bracho pic).

Commander and Guerrila

Summary: Armin finds you bleeding on the stables. You're a political enemy with trust issues and a little distracted by your pretty rescuer/nurse. Tags: Bullet wounds, mentions of blood, mentions of political persecution, reader is injured and antimilitary, anti authoritative government, Armin is having a hard time coping (people with EDs might find it triggering) Armin stitches your wounds, I have no knowledge on wound treatment, reader curses A LOT, Armin and Annie are just besties, Mikaannie snippet, Sasha's dad is here and he's an iconic dilf.

Part 2 is here

You stumbled into the stables, hoping the muddy ground outside and the darkening sky would conceal the trail of blood you left while running from the soldiers pursuing you. After running for what felt like kilometers, your legs were shaking and the wound on your side was bleeding even more because of the strain. You pressed on the bullet wound, trying to stop the flow but too much blood was already lost. All you could do was open the most hidden horse stall and hide inside, not even acknowledging the confused animal that suddenly gained a roommate. The blood loss was fogging your mind and as your body cooled down from all the exercise the pain started to overwhelm you. Laying on the floor, not even bothering to see if it was clean, you quickly slipped into an unconscious state. ___

Armin would always wake up early, even on the days he was off duty. He would usually catch up on some book unrelated to the infinite amount of negotiation papers and treaties he usually had to read, and sometimes he would even go for a walk. Unfortunately, the latter was rather difficult to do since Jean would panic and refuse to let Armin walk anywhere alone.

“You’re the commander and given your history on the Battle of Heaven and Earth, I wouldn’t be surprised if they put a bullet through your head” Jean said.

“I am not a commander, there is no survey corps to make me one. And also, all of us live in potential danger for the same reason” He replied.

“But you’re still the face of this, Armin” Jean insisted “You have a target on your back, Commander title valid or not”

Armin sighed remembering that conversation from two years ago. Jean was still dramatic over his safety, probably a result of Mikasa asking the man to keep an eye on Armin during their diplomatic trips. She was also another person who constantly worried about his life, constantly begging him to retire from this career. He was never fond of this path he was forced to follow, ultimately a consequence of Eren’s actions, but there was no other person willing to do it.

“Good morning, Commander” the familiar voice said.

Jean entered the kitchen, already bathed and probably planning to go to the city if his clothes were any indication.

“Good morning, captain” Armin greeted “going to the city?”

“Yes, Arthur asked for some specific herbs and seasonings” he spoke while pouring some lemongrass tea for himself “Nicollo will be cooking a special dinner in honor of our successful alliance with Eldia”

Armin would call their negotiation everything but successful, their group was lucky at best. Historia was Armin’s only leverage and relative protection. Paradis, or Eldia, as they called it, was still hostile towards Armin and the Alliance members. The eldian military was even more suspicious of them, especially now that Annie, Pieck and Reiner were present figures. Armin felt as if he was still stepping on eggshells, he was not going to naively believe his problems were solved.

“Stop overthinking” Jean poked him in the arm “we made a good enough deal with them”

“The question is: Will they uphold it?” Armin quickly said.

“That is a question for the future, we can only be cautious” Jean said “now stop frying your overworked brain. You should come with me to the city”

“No, no” he denied “ It’s the last place I want to go, but you go and have fun”

Armin could feel Jean wanting to pressure him to let out more information, he had a good eye for people in distress, which annoyed Armin to the core. He did not need more pity. Thankfully he momentaneously gave up and was out of the farm house in a few minutes. The once commander watched from the kitchen window as his longtime friend took one of the horses tied on the front porch and rode off.

“Good morning, Commander”

Arthur greeted him

“Mr. Braus”

“You’re up awfully early for someone off duty” the older man said, while preparing the breakfast table for the children “and call me Arthur”

“I slept early yesterday” Armin lied “and I’ll call you Arthur once you stop calling me commander”

Alongise Jean and Connie, Sasha’s father was also someone who never stopped calling him by his title, even if the blonde had asked him to stop so many times. Armin was very fond of the man, he offered a safe space for many of the 104th veterans in honor of his late daughter.

“Ivan!” Arthur called for his oldest boy “The horses need feeding”

“I’ll do it” Armin offered, already standing up from his chair “let the boy sleep a little longer”

Arthur turned to face him, features contorted in surprise.

“Are you aware of your status as a guest?” he said “and commander?”

“Yes” Armin said “do not worry mr. Braus, I know how to handle horses”

“Wait-”

But Armin was already out of the kitchen, not bothering to hear any of the old man’s excuses. Nothing better to distract the mind than caring for animals, and he was very fond of horses. ___

You woke up in a painful haze, your mouth and throat were dry and the headache felt as if an axe was splitting your head. The horse you shared a stall with was not bothered at all, instead it was just reacting to something in the stables. You cursed mentally, you were supposed to hide and keep moving instead of fainting in a stable, where anyone could find you and possibly hand your weakened self to the army.

“Being upset with me won’t feed you faster, have patience” a male voice startled you.

Someone would find you, and there was not enough strength left on your body to fight. Not even your gun was around, only a pocket knife. By the sounds of the man’s steps, he was getting closer and closer to the stall you were in.

“Hello, Pots” he said to your horse roommate “always well behaved, huh?”

The locks in the stall were pulled and the door slowly opened, revealing a blond man with a bucket of what was probably hay. He spotted you immediately, blue eyes widening.

“Shit, who the hell are you?”

Your throat was too dry to even reply, instead letting incomprehensible grunts. You prepared the pocket knife in case he tried to grab you, mind half thankful that he at least did not carry a gun.

“That is a lot of blood” he said, getting closer carefully “I will call someone for help, try not to move much”

You were able to muster up a painful ‘no’, which threw you in a coughing fit and worsened the pain of your wound.

“Okay, okay!” he said.

The man looked around, looking for something. You could not really register what his intentions were when the wound was angrily hurting.

“Let me hide you somewhere else then, the stall is in plain view, what were you even thinking?”

Oh, sorry, maybe the giant bullet wound clouded my mind . You thought, already hating that man’s guts. He kneeled by your side, quickly taking your left arm and immobilizing the hand that was holding the pocket knife. He took your excuse of a weapon, closing and putting it inside your boot.

“Let’s not stab the rescuer” he said.

A part of your mind was a little surprised when the man, who had an average height and a slender figure, lifted you easily. Despite the headache and pain, you could notice the softness of his short straw blond hair and the almost absence of facial hair, which made his age confusing since his voice was deep enough to not pass as a teenager. That was an unusual farmer, you thought. He was moving rather easily and quickly, crossing the field and entering what seemed to be a barn.

“Here you go” he said, while laying you down “This barn is just winter storage, nobody comes here during summer season. I’ll get you some water and try to clean this wound”

You did not have a choice in the matter besides waiting for his next move, still being too weak to get up. Whatever this man’s intentions were, you were at his mercy. You found it strange that he left your pocket knife with you, but that meant nothing regarding trust. ___

Armin went back to the farm house running, trying to avoid being seen by anyone inside when he snuck in. Thankfully, he had basic wound care medicine and tools in his belongings, a habit he picked up from Hange years ago. Armin also took matches, a canteen of drinking water and some clean cloths. It was not ideal, but he was in a rush, the amount of blood in the stranger’s clothes was alarming. He was almost opening his bedroom door when someone knocked.

“Armin, are you there?”

He fell silent, hoping Annie would just leave thinking he was not inside. Don’t open the door, don’t open the door, don’t open-

“Arlert!” she said “if you start skipping meals again I’ll resort to violence”

He almost grunted out of frustration, putting all of the items down on the bedside table and shielding them with a book stack nearby.

“I have already eaten” he said, while opening the door slightly “Jean woke up early to do some errands and I joined him for breakfast”

The short woman had her arms crossed.

“Good” she said “let’s spare Mikasa from your antics or else I-”

“Yes, yes, I already know” he said “violence and all, now go back to your lover-not-my-lover and leave me to read some documents, hm?”

“Fuck you Arlert” she smiled “need any help?”

“No, now leave my sight please”

“Don’t have to ask twice” she scoffed.

He closed the door, relieved that Annie was nothing like overly worried Jean and Mikasa. He did not waste time and soon snuck out of the residence while everyone was distracted on the breakfast table. He walked in a fast pace, always checking if he was out of sight until he reached the storage barn.

“Sorry” he said “it took me longer than expected to-”

They were unconscious, and Armin almost panicked. He checked their pulse and breathing, which were awfully weak, and quickly decided to assess the wound on their side. He pulled the stranger’s coat away from the affected area and lifted the blood soaked shirt, seeing the not so large but deep wound, still bleeding. He almost prayed when he noticed the bullet just scraped deeply through the skin, he did not need to fish it out and cause even more pain or damage. Taking the water canteen, he poured it over the wound and tried to wash all the dirt from it. He also applied some ginger ointment to hopefully fight the certain infection before starting to stitch the wound up. ___

You woke up to a dark barn, and also alone. You were still in pain, but it was less damaging to your senses, making you notice that your coat was discarded and there was a blanket thrown on top of your body. Slowly lifting the sheet, you could see your shirt was torn near the wound and a white cloth covered a stitched ugly wound. Breathing in and out, you tried to sit up without disrupting the man’s job, but you had no strength to do so.

“Ugh, fuck this” you huffed.

At least your voice was working, still raspy, but way better than before. You wondered if the man tried to hydrate you, how unexpected of someone to be so helpful. Maybe you were just used to people being nothing but violent and oppressive to you and your people, especially the ones in the city. Of course, you would never trust the farmer entirely, he could still help you and cruelly hand you to the military in the end.

“You’re awake” the voice startled you “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you”

The odd farmer entered the barn, carrying something tied inside a cloth.

“I’m not scared” you replied “who are you?”

“I brought food” he said “you’re still dehydrated”

“Who the fuck are you?”

He looked you straight in the eyes, setting the food on the floor next to you.

“Does it matter? Knowing my name won’t heal you” he said.

You stayed silent, trying to guess what he was going to do next. He was kneeling, hands on his thighs while he looked around.

“Perfect” he spoke while standing up.

The man left your field of vision, but soon returned with a jute bag full of what seemed to be hay or dried wheat with how full it looked. He covered it with the cloth he used to wrap the food.

“Can I lift you up? you’ll eat better elevated” he asked.

You nodded. He slithered a hand under you, lifting your upper torso and lowering you again, but on the jute bag this time.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

Of course not, I can barely move on my own, you thought, but remained silent. He nervously deviated his sight to the food in his hands.

“Here” he offered a piece of steamed sweet potato.

You almost inhaled it after taking the first bite. The man also gave you a small canteen, which you gladly took and almost cried at the wonderful taste of water. The meal was silent, with him offering you more food until you emptied the plate and drained the canteen.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“No, I’m still thirsty” you confessed.

“I’ll fetch you more water” he said, standing up.

“Wait” you said.

He stopped at the door, and you had to admit he was a little distracting when illuminated by moonlight.

“Yes?” he asked when you remained silent for too long.

“Your stitches look like shit” you spilled. ___

Armin was exhausted when he finally snuck back into his room. He spent the entire day checking on the stranger whenever people were distracted enough, running from the house to the barn a few times that day to see if the person was still alive and wet their lips with cold water. He wanted to bring them to his room, but there was not a single scenario in his head that made it possible. Despite him knowing the others would not harm the stranger, he was awfully haunted by the desperate ‘no’ they let out when Armin offered to get help. Whoever that person was, he could recognize the weight of existence on them, and Armin had a sad hunch of what they were.

“Terrorists?” Pieck commented.

Jean, Armin and Connie were telling the events of the first Paradis-Alliance negotiation meeting to Annie, Pieck and Reiner. The warrior trio were left out until Armin could see a safe opportunity for their participation.

“Yes” Jean confirmed “at least that’s how the eldian army calls them. Supposed terrorists that conspire against the government”

“That’s strange” she said “but it explains why we weren’t shot to death upon arrival. They have bigger problems now”

“It’s not strange at all” Annie replied “an army leading a country? We saw this picture before and it always ends up on social control. The eldian government will always have riots for as long as they rule”

“At least we are off the hook” Connie said.

“Make no mistake, as soon as they manage to shut down this rioting group we will be targets again” Armin said “let’s be cautious”

Armin was screwed. He had helped a rioter, which could put him and his comrades in trouble. Whoever that person was, the fact they were shot meant that somewhere in this district their group orchestrated an attack. Armin’s strictly strategic and mission-focused side was screaming to let the stranger die, or kill them if they got any better, but he was not that monster anymore. Armin refused to repeat his sins from the past, when he was only a weapon and not a person. He would help the stranger heal and send them on their way, hoping that they were grateful enough to not tell on him.

He was not able to sleep that night, his mind on the wounded rioter inside the storage barn. The morning came fast, and he was already up on the first evidence of sunlight. He assembled a small plate with fruits, some bread, goat cheese and filled a canteen with rosemary water. Not bothering to eat himself, Armin left the farm house and walked at a slower pace to the barn. He hoped the stranger was still asleep, resting as much as they could. Armin did spend too much time there last night, speaking with the rioter until they fell asleep. He found it amusing that their first conversation started with a justified insult to his sewing abilities, Armin truly did not have the best knowledge on stitching people up.

“Sorry about it” he said once he returned with more water “I only learned the basics”

“I insulted your hard work trying to rescue me from the brink of death and you say sorry?” they asked.

“What should I say instead?” he asked.

They just shrugged their shoulders, not answering.

“You were lucky, the bullet just scraped, deeply, but it doesn’t seem like it hit anything major” Armin tried to lift their mood “can you tell me what happened?”

“None of your business”

Armin had to admit he wanted to chuckle a little, they seemed so torn between grateful and careful. He could relate and respect that very much, if the situation was switched he would have behaved the same.

“You’re up” he said once he opened the barn’s door.

They were already awake, or maybe did not sleep at all. Armin decided not to ask and just offered the food instead. They ate silently, drinking the rosemary water as if they were traveling through the desert. Armin knew well that losing blood could dehydrate someone this badly, the headaches and nausea were the worst part.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“Like shit” they said “but less shit”

Armin could see the lie, they were sweating and the trembling indicated that maybe a fever was coming.

“Care if I check your temperature?” Armin said.

“I don’t have a fever”

He nodded and did not push them, already thinking of what he should do if they fell with an infection. He took the empty plate and headed back to the main house, sneaking into the kitchen to wash everything and start breakfast for everyone else. While he brewed some tea and coffee, he heard footsteps approaching the room.

“Oh, Good morning, Commander. I was about to start breakfast” Arthur said.

“Good morning, Mr. Braus” he greeted the older man “I was already awake, might as well help”

The man hummed, taking the pan from the cabinet and a basket of eggs. Armin observed while the man prepared the base for the omelets, offering space on the stove for him.

“So, where have you been sneaking up to?”

Armin choked on air but quickly recomposed his posture.

“Excuse me?” he replied.

“Boy, I have four teenagers at home. I know a sneaky kid when I see one”

Of course Arthur would drop his title for a good scolding.

“Sorry, sir. I just wanted some alone time”

“In my winter barn?”

“I was always a strange kid, Mikasa can confirm that” Armin partially lied.

“Hm, so this has nothing to do with the fact I found blood in one of my horse stalls?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. How could Armin be so fucking stupid?

“Are they even alive?” Arthur questioned, frying another omelet as if he was saying mundane things.

“Yes” Armin finally gave up “but they might be developing an infection ”

The older man sighed, turning the stove off.

“Bring them inside. A dusty barn is no place to heal” ___

You were pissed, livid, angrier than ever. That stupid farm boy was going to get you killed.

“I told you to not ask for help! You fucking dumb farm boy” you grunted.

“I asked him to bring me here” the old man tried to reason “besides, I know very well what you are and I have no intentions of giving you to the military”

“Do you really think I believe in this?” You spat.

“You either believe or die of infection” Armin said “You can’t even hide it anymore”

“Let me give you a room, let your body heal completely” the older man said again “once you can walk without fainting you’re free to go”

“Why would you help a terrorist?” ” the word was full of venom in your mouth.

“I’m helping a wounded person, that’s all” he said “and besides, it’s not like I sympathize with the military either”

The wrinkles on his face indicated a suffering you could remember from your mother’s features. It was not uncommon for farmers, nurses and teachers to dislike their government, but caution was never too much. You did not trust anyone but your comrades, but there was no choice in the moment. You were vulnerable, and you were feeling weaker as the hours passed.

“If you turn me in, my comrades will fucking bomb your farm next”

“Yes, of course they will” the old man dismissed your answer “Armin, mind carrying them to the main house?”

The blond boy approached you, asking you a silent question. You nodded and he quickly picked you up, firmly holding you. Despite the feverish haze, you still could not help but notice how strong he was. And the name? it was so familiar and yet you had no instant memories of it.

“Here” the old man motioned for Armin once they entered the home “this room is never used, we can be discreet and still give you good enough care”

You almost cried once your body was placed on the soft bed. You were used to sleeping in uncomfortable conditions, but something about being ill and sleeping in a proper bed left you sensitive. You were fed more properly and had your wound cleaned again, the old man, which you learned was named Arthur, gave you a towel and bathing supplies, alongside clothes.

“I’ll leave you to try and bathe on your own, but if you need help I can ask my wife to assist you” Arthur said.

You refused, but thanked him shyly. Your attempt at bathing and relieving yourself was slow and incredibly messy, but it was good enough for someone in the early stages of fever and wobbly legs. Armin had knocked on your door, asking to give you fever medicine he had found.

“I’ll check on you later regarding the fever, but try to rest for now” he said.

Before he could leave your room, you grasped his sleeve. He turned back to you, intense blue eyes questioning your actions.

“I just” you began “Thanks…for not letting me die on that stable”

He gave you a small smile, nodding.

“It’s the least I could do” he said.

He pulled the blinds to darken the room, giving you one last look before closing the door. You laid down on the bed, still uncomfortable but feeling less dirty and weak, thinking about the strange luck destiny gave you in the shape of a blond farm boy. You were young, but lived enough to expect that luck would soon run out, and that terrified you.

The next few days were filled with that man checking on your wound, giving you medicine, engaging in small conversation while he waited for you to finish the meals he brought. You never gave him your name, despite knowing his, and he started calling you by that stupid nickname.

“Guerrila” Armin called you.

You rolled your eyes, holding your tongue not to curse at him when he had your food in hands.

“Stop calling me that”

“When you give me a name, even a fake one”

Never.

“Here you go” Armin handed you the bowl “bean stew”

“Who is your cook again?” You asked.

“Nicollo” he said.

“Send him my regards”

“He has no idea you’re here, but I’ll try my best”

“It’s better this way” you spoke “you and Arthur are already in danger simply by helping me”

Armin sat next to you on the bed.

“Again, Guerrilla, helping you makes little difference on our safety status”

He had given you this answer before, but never elaborated on it. You also never asked for more details, afraid he would use this as an exchange to know more about you. It’s not like you were still worried about your identity, but you were terrified of letting someone know you. Armin was still a stranger, but you felt a horrible need to know him better and share your thoughts and life in return. You could not have that, you could never have anyone again. Everyone you ever loved or cared for died or disappeared: You mother, sister, lover, friends, comrades. That farmer boy did not need to enter the list, nor Arthur.

“I’ll be leaving soon” you announced “The wound is healing well and I haven’t had a fever in two days”

“Are you sure? Arthur would never force you to leave”

“Yes. I can’t stay anymore, I need to warn my remaining comrades of what happened”

“I understand”

No, he did not. How could he? He was a farmer boy after all.

“Tell me when you want to go, I can arrange a horse and supplies” he said “also find a good time for you to leave unnoticed”

You thanked him for the help, genuinely relieved that he did not try to convince you to stay. Had he asked, you would have stayed longer. ___

Armin closed their door, locking it from the outside as usual. It was surprisingly easy to hide someone in that house, which made Armin think if Arthur had done that before. Not even Mikasa, who had a good eye for routine shifts, picked up on Armin and Arthur’s odd behavior. Or maybe she was too invested in her newfound strange tension/relationship with Annie, who knows. All he knew is that soon enough the young rioter would leave and Armin would have to act as if nothing happened, as if that stranger did not turn his life upside down by spawning in a horse stall about ten days ago. He was terrified by how quickly he was getting attached, even if he knew barely anything about them.

“Are you even listening to me?” Jean waved his hand.

“Sorry, sorry. Can you repeat?”

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve been distracted for a while”

“I’m okay” Armin said “please, proceed”

Jean spoke again, reviewing their newest treaty with Eldia and the contracts with the other countries they visited as a pacific alliance. Jean sensed they would have to travel soon and was endlessly ranting about the cost of the trip and how much time they would spend in a certain conference. Armin’s mind was half listening to his captain, but the other half was thinking about the stranger hiding in that very house. Armin would leave and not come back for at least four months, maybe more. He hoped that the guerrilla could at least stay alive until he could somehow find them again. Was it reasonable? Of course not. If the previous commander of the survey corps was found looking for a rioter that would cause him more problems than ever. ___

Armin was waiting for you to finish packing. Arthur had given you more than you deserved for a quick trip back to the headquarters, but you appreciated the man’s generosity, he even polished your pocket knife. You checked if everything was on your bag before turning to Armin and nodding. He opened the door, looking into the corridor before signaling for you to follow, and guided you to what seemed to be the back doors of the house. Outside, the dark sky had no moon, but you could spot a horse waiting for you with the help of an oil lamp. Armin climbed on the animal and offered you a hand.

“You’ll need help finding your way out of the farm” he justified “I know the way by heart”

You took his hand, careful not to strain your almost healed wound, and sat behind him. The heat on your face was very unwelcome, in your opinion, why would you feel all stupid then when the man had carried you bridal style twice before? Maybe it was the fact his hands were calloused but his grip was gentle, or that his shoulders were firm when you grasped them. Ugh, I am so pathetically touch starved, you said to yourself.

“Of course the farmer boy knows the way” you finally said.

“Can I tell you something?” he chuckled.

“Hm?”

“I am not a farmer” he said “Well, I worked in a farm about ten years ago, but I’m just visiting a friend here”

“And what are you then?”

“I have no idea” he said.

“Excuse me?” you were so confused.

“Some people say I am an ambassador, others call me a diplomat, some call me survey corps scum”

That’s when it hit you like a horse race. Armin as in-

“Are you the 15th commander? Commander Arlert?”

He did not say anything at first, but you could feel his shoulders tense up.

“I guess so”

“People in this country hate your guts” you said without thinking “Shit, you helped me! If they ever find out you’re getting killed!”

“Nobody will suspect if a certain Guerrila stays silent about it” he said.

“Of course I’m not saying shit, but still! If I was in your place…”

He could have done what any other government targeted person would.

“You would turn me in?” he continued your line of thought “it’s a smart move, rid yourself of danger by handing them a terrorist”

“Why didn’t you?”

"It's not fair” he said “but please let’s not talk about it”

You wanted to ask more, to know more. How could he even tell you those things and not elaborate on anything? You almost considered asking him for more information when the horse came to a stop and Armin asked you to hold the oil lamp while he got off the horse. The orange hue was the only thing allowing you to see his face.

“You should recognize the main road from here, I trust you know how to avoid the military”

You nodded, adjusting yourself on the horse saddle.

“I am sort of an expert in avoiding them” you said.

He smiled and shook his head, petting the horse’s neck.

“Try not to be shot again when I’m out of the country” he looked you straight in the eyes.

“I’ll try my best, but don’t make any promises”

“Alright, get out of here” he stepped away from the horse.

You prompted the horse forward, but not even five meters on you turned your body to face him. Armin held the oil lamp close to enough to see that he still faced you.

“Maybe one day we can talk without this looming danger on our heads” you said.

“I hope so”

With his face still ingrained on your mind, you turned around and left.

[zucest-week]

Hello motherfuckers, it's time to Zucest.

As many of you know, last year, I, along with a group consisting of myself, me, Kate and @ilikepjo24, organized the first ever Zucest Week. The event was a huge success, a very enjoyable process for me, and everyone else who participated. So naturally, it will be done again.

I have already started working on some background projects and planning that are related to the event, like scheduling the dates, that I will share with you right now.

Last year, I got an anonymous complain, saying that the prompts were announced too close to the date of the Week itself. So this year, I decided to switch it up a bit. The Week will still happen on the same dates as last year, but the process of collecting prompts and voting for the winners will happen earlier that year, to ensure that there will be enough time.

So, with that being said, the Google Sheet where everyone will be able to write down their ideas will be shared with the public at the 28th of February. It will be editable by for a week and a day. Normally, it's supposed to be only a week, but this year is a leap year, which means you'll have an extra day to add your suggestions.

After the predecided deadline, the spreadsheet will no longer be editable, but it will remain online and accessable to however wishes to go over the prompts once again.

Once the prompts have been collected, I will seperate all of them to five categories, depending on their energy. Those categories will be:

Smutty/Kinky Suggestions

Fluffy Suggestions

Humorous Suggestions

Sad/Angsty Suggestions

And there will be a fifth category titled Free-For-All. The suggestions that go there are the prompt that fall into two or more of the other categories. Once the prompts are seperated, I'll create a voting poll for each of the categories and I'll share all the polls with you so that you can select the suggestions you prefer. That will happen in the 7th of March and this process will last one week.

After the voting process is over, I'll collect the seven most voted prompts from each poll and arrange them in each of the seven days of the Week. That way, each day sill have five suggestions, one from each of the five categories, and you pick what you'd like to write for that day. When each of the prompts you have chosen has been arranged to each respective day, I will announce the winner prompts. That announcement will take place in the 14th of March.

The Week itself starts at the 14th of June and ends at the 20th of the same month. So from the moment the prompts will be announced, we will each have 3 months exactly to write/draw their works based on the prompts.

All forms of art are appreciated and welcome. You can write a story or a poem, draw a picture or a comic, you could even compose a song if you wish to do show, or make a post with a headcannon inspired from the suggestions of the day. You might want to do a different project for each day and that's more than okay as well! All I wish for is that, if you use your platform/account on Tumblr to spread your art, tag it as #zucestweek and/or #zucestweek2024 so that it'll be easier to find.

Soon, I'll make another post regarding other Zucest related events that will take place at the same period of time, so stay tuned.

As always, if anyone had any question/idea/suggestion/concern, please feel free to contact mez anonymously or not, any moment of any day, through an ask, a reblog, a comment, or a private message in this account, or in my other account @ilikepjo24, although I would prefer if you contacted this account, so other people that might have something similar to say could also get their answer by following this account here.

And as I mentioned before, I organize this event by myself *side eyes Zucest loving friends that do nothing* so I'd appreciate it if no anti tried to burden me with any hate, cause I honestly don't have time for that.

That is all, have a nice day, wherever you are!

[demystifiedstardust]

Researching Constelic

Cw subjective opinions.

⚠️ This is intended to be an analysis of what I've been able to dig up concerning the topic of constelic identity, and how it exclusively applies to myself. I have no intention of invalidating anyone's constelic experience. This piece contains both positive and negative opinions on stelling exclusively as a framework, and is not meant as commentary on people who use constelic terminology for themselves. Still, I understand that a person very attached to stelling may take this analysis personally when no offense is meant. Use your best judgment on if this piece is appropriate for you. ⚠️

While searching for fresh ideas, I stumbled upon the constelic community. It seemed promising at a glance, except for an important detail...

...is there a community?

I can find lots of flag and coining blogs, but actual constels are nowhere to be seen. I can't find anyone talking about the experience of stelling at the time of this writing, save for an anonymous submission blog (and during my research, I hit the bottom of #actually constelic, wow).

Well, that and... from what scant information I can find about the subculture to begin with, it seems less about experience to begin with, and more about label hoarding.

I'd like to say right now that there's nothing inherently Wrong or Bad about hoarding labels. Some people find meaning in doing so. That being said, I am not one of those people. Label hoarding isn't what I'm looking for in a potential identity-centric community.

Hoarding constels feels like... the aesthetic of an identity, without actually exploring an identity? I don't see the appeal of not engaging with your own identity. I wouldn't have made this blog at all if I didn't feel strongly about that. I don't have a desire to curate and grow a list for the sake of keeping a list. While there's nothing inherently wrong with aesthetics either, for me, the list is secondary to the experience itself.

This aestheticization of identity permeates the various terminologies under the constelic umbrella. Orbiting, veiling, constel(ation)s, phases. Why is the core terminology celestial-body-based? Is there a reason, other than aesthetic? Everything not immediately celestial-based is a rebrand of existing kin words, right down to stellie as an alternative to kinnie. Why is all this hyperspecific vocabulary necessary for a concept that has yet to be adopted by a core base of users, if not for aesthetic?

The end result is something that feels derivative of kin, without the organic community and subcultural development of kin. I think it was meant to be a more inclusive alternative to kin, but in its current state it feels forced. That there are posts in the tags at all indicates an amount of success, but it still feels like a sterile environment, like the internet version of a staged home that's never meant to be actually lived in. The lack of discoverable experiences compounds this feeling. It's unfortunate, because there are aspects within the framework of stelling that deserve to be explored.

The lack of separation between "identify as" and "identity with" is the most attractive feature of stelling in my humble opinion, as these two concepts can become fuzzy and fluid between each other. This is something I experience with my relationship to vampires and deep water. I oscillate between both modalities, and while the oscillation itself causes me no discomfort, there isn't much in the way of community that can accommodate a fluid state of being such as my own.

This lack of distinction serves as both an affirmation of freedom of identity fluidity within the label, as well as an anti-gatekeeping measure. I also like the affirmation that a constel can be obtained and dropped at any point in a person's life, contrary to the heavy insinuation in kin spaces that identity is permanent and inherent. It theoretically creates an environment with comparatively less expectations and more wiggle room to parse out an identity without fear of mistakes.

The constelic symbol is also really logographic! I can't say the same about some other logos in the same vein, like the fic//tionkin keys symbol. Perhaps as expected from a framework heavily concerned with aesthetic, but it still should be noticed and appreciated. I'm a sucker for good graphic design. One more thing I like is the color scheme on the basic constellic flag. I hope the creator is proud of themselves, because they did a great job.

So as a concept, there are many things I really like about the constelic framework of identity. Unfortunately, the hoarding aspect of constels is incompatible with what I desire for myself. I want to understand the different aspects myself--how they influence me on a granular level, how they influence each other, how they paint the picture of "me". I want to play with my identity, and I want to be serious with my identity. Above all, I want to engage with my identity. This creates a conceptual disconnect between me and stelling.

In practice, the constelic community is barren and unpopulated. There's nothing of substance--no connections between other people, no posts to read except endless coinings that may or may not have a practical use. It's disappointing but not surprising, given the constelic framework's leaning toward identity hoarding and not engaging.

Ultimately, I don't have a use for stelling in my life, aside from comparing and contrasting it to my ideals. My march continues onward, but this was an interesting pitstop.

[linolinoing]

it's actually insane to me that charles has comparable if not more line distribution than the boys combined... like how does ONE person have almost the same amount as EIGHT members and he's just the feature. from their intro video where they talk about it, it breaks my heart that they think they had to do this to get recognition here in the US. i became a stay after seeing them at gcf when i was there for someone else so their own music speaks for itself. i'm scared the single will be on the album for the upcoming comeback and i'm scare they will lose their touch for the take of western validation or making it big here. we've seen it with an act like bts and i feel like now jype is trying to follow their lead to attempt for that same kind of success. i'm actually heartbroken for the guys and fuck div1/jype bc i can't even imagine the bs they got into their head with about breaking out in the west

Hi! Sorry for the late reply, I just got home!

He definitely has way more lines for my liking because I would prefer he didn't have any but stays don't get to smile so... Tbh I think that's how collabs usually work, it's probably around half him and half skz, but since there's 8 members it seems like he sings more.

Still, this collaboration is getting more and more disappointing by the day. Idk how stays can still support it when there hasn't been one good thing about it. Not one but two whole zionists in the credits, puth has been saying and doing disgusting things for years, he barely acknowledged the song, doesn't seem to care about it and he is already posting about his upcoming single and album. I haven't listened to the whole song, but judging by the teasers, it sounds like the most basic puth song ever, skz are more than capable of making amazing songs without leeches like him.

I haven't watched the intro but that sounds really sad. One of the main reasons skz gained so many fans is the fact that 3racha are the main producers and songwriters. They follow their own path and have their own distinct sound. So to think such a bland artist like puth is the only way skz can get recognition in the usa makes no sense to me. Especially since they're already very big there, they're already gathering stadiums, and all tickets for their day at lolla are sold out. They're headlining at the biggest festivals while puth has been irrelevant for a long time.

It's very valid to be concerned about the direction jype/rr is taking skz. I have no problem with skz trying new sounds, or if they want to release an english song or album, but not how it's happening now. If jype/rr wanted a viral song in the usa so bad they could've done it in better ways.

I saw someone say they made this song in the song camp with puth so I'm little worried that this song might be not the only one, maybe next time it won't have puth as a feature, but still produced by him or that other man.

I never really deep dived into bts, but I liked some of their songs, and around the time butter came out i just lost interest in them tbh. Mostly cuz of the way their fans were acting. The thing about big fandoms like armys and stays is that there are a lot of different people, with different views, yet loudest ones have created a reputation for armys as bullies, racists, sexists and so on. They harass and doxx ppl, they're always up in everyone's business, trending hateful tags, full of akgaes and most importantly have no morals whatsoever. And well this year *someone* is moving exactly the same. And this collab just proves where stays as a fandom are heading. Even tho there's a lot of people who still have morals unfortunately the loudest ones are creating a very negative image for both stays and skz. Btw on twt whenever armys are trying to educate others armys about the hybe boycott they face the same hate and 'yOu ArE aN aNtI yOu ShOuLd lEaVe tHe FaNdOm' as stays do now.

Those big companies almost never prioritise artists and their ideas or fans, they want more money, so they will keep pushing more of what makes them that money. And kpop stans are the perfect audience for this. Cuz at least half is obssesed with their fave to the concerning levels, and companies use that for their own benefit. Bubble, fancalls and etc help to create the illusion that kpop idols are your best friends and boyfriends. Remember how some stays were genuinely upset and heartbroken when Chris "broke up" with them, called him toxic, manipulative, hated him, cried on tt about it, that's not normal. When you're that invested in the parasocial relationship you're gonna end up hurt. Our brains and nervous system are experiencing stress whether it's a real thing happing or just our imagination. It's not healthy to be so dependent on the artist and creating a bond with someone who doesn't know you exist.

And in order to continue living in this imaginary world, people are willing to throw away whatever morals they have left in them. That's why they get so angry when you try to interfere with it, they need their faves to be *perfect*. As much as I love skz, the success of a kpop group will never be more important to me than my own values.

And just a reminder to everyone that if you don't support this collab, it doesn't mean you're sabotaging skz, nor does it make you an anti. If you feel overwhelmed by everything going on in the fandom, it's okay to take a break, it's okay to just enjoy skz's music without obsessing over charts and streams. Just take your time and do what's best for you! 🫂

This got so fucking long for no reason I'm so sorry 😭

[hergan416]

I posted 4,299 times in 2022

That's 1,437 more posts than 2021!

108 posts created (3%)

4,191 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fictionalsadist

@lesbianraggedyanne

@mydetheturk

@dragonprincess18

@duelingdestiny

I tagged 2,148 of my posts in 2022

Only 50% of my posts had no tags

#ygo - 522 posts

#op - 296 posts

#art rec - 293 posts

#seto kaiba - 196 posts

#one piece - 179 posts

#trafalgar law - 139 posts

#hergie rps - 110 posts

#zoro - 89 posts

#p.i.c. - 88 posts

#atem - 87 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#sometimes doctors are lazy or take shortcuts or are biased but sometimes they are kind people who help you through stressful terrible stuff

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Further feeling like my initial thoughts about fandom culture and especially the pro/anti debate were not unfounded.

Haven't even gotten to the uncensored manuscript and I'm already seeing parallels.

This is one of the critical responses quoted in the forward to the published version of the book:

Why go grabbing in muck-heaps? The world is fair, and the proportion of healthy-minded men and women to those that are foul, fallen, or unnatural is great. Mr. Oscar Wilde has again been writing stuff that were better unwritten; and while The Picture of Dorian Gray, which he contributes to Lippincott's, is ingenious, interesting, full of cleverness, plainly the work of a man of letters, it is false art--for its interest is medico-legal; it is false to human nature--for its hero is a devil; it is false to morality--for it is not made sufficiently clear that the writer does not prefer a course of unnatural iniquity to a life of cleanliness, health, and sanity. The story--which deals with matters only fitted for the Criminal Investigation Department or a hearing in camera [out of public scrutiny]--is discreditable alike to author and editor. Mr. Wilde has brains, and art, and style; but if he can write for none but outlawed noblemen and perverted telegraph boys, the sooner he takes to tailoring (or some other decent trade) the better for his own reputation and the public morals.

-Unsigned notice of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Scots Observer, July 5, 1890; rpt. in Oscar Wilde: The Critical Heritage, ed. Beckson, pp. 68-69.

Why do people, then and now, lack so much nuance?

Dorian Gray starts out relatable. But Wilde ensures that by the end he has done worse than what most readers would imagine themselves capable. Even if we were to live in a society in which it was ok to simply do whatever we wanted with no consequences, most of us would not want to kill, or to cheat, or to lie, or drive another to suicide with our words, or descend into the kind of self-destructive paranoia that consumes Dorian Gray.

Can we not read this book like a tragedy? Why must we assume the protagonist is a hero? Why is it we expect morality to be spoonfed to us in literature? Why must a book contain a moral lesson at all? Why can't a book exist for the artistry? The way it makes you think? The way it makes you reexamine yourself and your place in the world?

I'm sad we haven't changed in hundreds of years. But, I suppose, I'm not surprised.

18 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

#4

Now that authors are revealed, here's the obligatory "I wrote it!" post.

I participated in the Dark Pride of Dimensions discord server's "Dark Valentines of Dimensions" Gift Exchange this year, and got to write for the fantastic @kaibacorpintern.

Title: Heartsick

Rated: G

Tags: Prideshipping (Yami Yugi/Atem | Seto Kaiba), Seto Kaiba, Atem, Isono, Sugoroku Muto, Mokuba Kaiba, Post-Dark Side of Dimensions, COVID-19, phone calls & telephones, anxiety, work skin

Summary: It's 2021, and Seto Kaiba finally returned from a ten year voyage through spacetime with his longtime rival in his arms. His trip to Aaru was a success.

However, there's no time to celebrate in a world that has changed so drastically in the time since he left.

Excerpt

“Kaiba.”

There was static on the other line, as the caller hesitated to speak. Kaiba thumbed towards the end call button, but stopped when a familiar voice greeted him.

"Mr. Kaiba, this is Sugoroku Muto.” Seto blinked. “Atem, the uh Pharaoh, knocked on my door today with your number in his…” Sugoroku hesitated for a second before settling on “pocket.”

...

“May I speak to him?” Seto interrupted. He’d been able to communicate then. Maybe he could continue to do so now.

“Sure,” Sugoroku said. There was a shuffling sound as the phone was passed to Atem.

“Hello.” Atem’s voice sounded in Kaiba’s ear, and Kaiba confirmed that whatever language Atem spoke, he could understand him. Other than that, his thoughts had gone blank, and his chest clenched in anticipation.

“Hello,” he replied dumbly in Ancient Egyptian. “How are you doing?” 

Read it on AO3.

21 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

#3

So I'm rewatching One Piece with my friend. We are watching the fumimation dub because of accessibility reasons, which is a new experience for me because my initial watch through was the sub (is? Obviously it's ongoing)

Anyway we just finished Arlong Park and I'm having thoughts about many things, but especially Sanji and also zosan as a ship.

I forgot how much of an actual dipshit Sanji is verbally to Zeff and the cooks and everyone. It's sort of easy to gloss over in the subs, but the swearing in the dub is way more jarring. But Sanji undoubtedly cares about them still. Immensely.

I remember making an offhand comment when Sanji gets so distracted worried about Zoro's wounds from Mihawk that he takes a hard punch in his fight against the guy he's facing (I forget his name, forgive me): something like "remember when Sanji cared about Zoro?"

[To be fair, Sanji takes big risks for everyone but Usopp during that fight, so it's not just Zoro, and I don't think his actions are intended to be read shippy (Usopp is elsewhere, so he has no reason to help him.) I think this is meant to further establish Sanji's kindness and specific morality, which is narratively both his strength and his weakness, just like Zoro getting lost or Nami with money.]

But then later Sanji is biting at Zoro, and maybe it's the English helping me out, because I know calls Zoro a shitty swordsman in both, but it seems WAY more endearing, way more like how Sanji is with Zeff than being openly hostile as I had initially interpreted it?

I guess I just find it interesting, an aspect of the ship I hadn't thought about before? Like zosan always felt like one of those ships I like because of the fandom. There is a lot of good content for it, but a lot of it feels truly transformative, breathing a different life into the characters than I see on the screen. That's not bad! I honestly like fandom Sanji better than canon Sanji most days, and zosan is part of that.

I'm super curious about what the translation will be like when we get to Sanji's experience during the timeskip. Maybe it's me projecting or reading in too far or wishful thinking because I want Sanji to not be Like That.

Anyway makes me want to write and explore Sanji's character (again). But like, don't expect anything I'm busy af 😂

37 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

#2

Who the fuck bandaged Zoro like that? Why is he with Sanji?

Law fucking had him. They disappeared and now Zoro is bandaged like a fucking cross and Sanji has him.

Did Law treat him like that and then give him to Sanji? Or did he just dump him on Sanji and call it a fucking day and Sanji did...whatever?

One thing we do know...Law ships zosan.

92 notes - Posted September 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So I have gotten to a part in The Picture of Dorian Gray where the neighborhood Picadilly is mentioned. I am also doing Dracula Daily, and so the fact that there is a foot note regarding Picadilly is interesting to me. Because well...*motions at the burglary at the Picadilly House*

Apparently, this is a preeminent street, filled with fashion and high members of society, which all tracks with the difficulties the Dracula guys face entering it and sealing away the soil in the boxes.

....but also, Picadilly is apparently famous for male prostitutes.

Dracula would have been much different if this knowledge were available to our protags, I think.

151 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[windona]

I posted 2,121 times in 2022

That's 136 more posts than 2021!

188 posts created (9%)

1,933 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@athingofvikings

@wepouredoatmealonthebear

@bedlamsbard

@chancecraz

@audreycritter

I tagged 1,783 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#fandom - 148 posts

#tumblr game - 105 posts

#prompting night - 97 posts

#star wars - 77 posts

#current events - 74 posts

#issues - 72 posts

#writing ref - 67 posts

#gpoy - 58 posts

#amazing - 57 posts

#dc comics - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#also i feel the wisdom of solomon would help billy know when it a good time to appeal and when it would just make someone close off more

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

prompting night: uhhhh Jaime finding out about some of Scarab's stranger hobbies (reading AITA on Reddit? hacking the Wayne tech slack? murderbot style telenovela obsession? up to you)

Jaime looked over at Tye, Asami, Paco, and Brenda snickering.

"What are you guys snickering at?"

"Jaime, look at this!" Tye pulled out his phone, showing the Reddit AITA page.

"My brother formed a club, and I thought I could support it by working with some friends and colleagues to set up some successes for them behind the scenes without their knowledge. He found out and is mad. AITA?"

"Sounds like what you told us about the Anti-Light, right?" Paco said with a grin.

"You've got to show your teammates this."

"Huh. It looks like there's also some other ones..." Jaime scrolled through, seeing usernames that while not the same looked suspiciously similar. They also looked to all be posting various scenarios that sounded suspiciously like Team ones.

"From K4gee- Hold on. Khaji Da, did you post these?"

[[Yes.]]

Jaime's friends paused, eyes wide.

"Why?"

[[<You> have asked that <I> be considerate of teammates. To help understand their behavior and reactions, <I> created these dummy accounts and posted actions that caused disunity without supplying any identifying information.]]

"Is... is your scarab shading your team?" Tye squeaked out.

Jaime nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

Everyone burst out laughing.

"Please show your teammates," Asami said between peals of laughter.

"Wait, I'll let Ed know to get a camera out when you do," Tye said as he bent over.

"Oh mio dios, yes. Khaji Da, this is the best."

35 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

#4

prompting night: let Khaji Da hack more phones

"Okay, but where did you get that information from?" Jaime looked off to the side, wondering if he should regret encouraging Khaji Da to pay more attention to social relationships and dynamics. Then again, apparently Bart had encouraged that well enough after the prophecy/Green Beetle fiasco.

<I hacked the Wonder Girl's phone.>

"Hermano, you can't just go around hacking people's phones!"

<If information is gathered in advance, it can be used to prevent issues.>

"Right, but we have to keep our teammate's trust by not invading their privacy."

<The Nightwing hacks phones.>

"What?"

<The Nightwing has hacked the phones of many teammates before leaving the Team, and one of his new recruit's phones. Why am I not allowed to?>

Jaime frowned. Nightwing was hanging out... kind of, now that Geoforce, Terra, Forager, and Halo joined the Team.

"Okay, you can't hack anyone's phones... except Nightwing's. He's got to learn the value of privacy as well."

<Excellent! I shall make sure to inform you of any relevant details.>

And that was how Jaime found out about the Anti-Light and Terra's mole status.

38 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

#3

I am always here to give Windy bad fic prompts. Considering my post about Uncle Dudley beating up Uncle Ebeneezer took off last week. (YJ) Billy is walking down town with Uncle Dudley chatting away when he suddenly goes quiet and hides behind a corner, Dudley H. Dudley asks his foster son what is wrong and Billy has to explain who that skinny old man that just walked by actually is.

"- and I know it's just an internship, but being at WHIZ is so cool! I get to help with stories, and I'm even given a small section to do for other kids once a week." Billy grinned, skipping down the street. Luckily the lack of crowd made that easy enough to do. "I'm even paid!"

"That's great Billy! But it's not taking up too much time?" Dudley said, eyes scanning over the store fronts and the old man walking down before turning to Billy.

"No, I can't work more than sixteen hours a we-" Billy paled, and then ducked into a nearby alley.

The skinny old man from earlier walked past, muttering about money and people who were so ungrateful. Only when the man passed did Billy come out from the alley and turn to Dudley.

Billy had fought legends and monsters without a flinch. Sure, the courage of Achilles probably came in handy, but that didn't change the fact Billy never hid for no reason.

"Son, who was he?"

A wash of feelings stole over Billy's face. He looked down at his shoes. "Uncle Ebeneezer."

Crouching down a little despite his old knees, Dudley tried to look Billy in the eyes. "Who?"

"He took me in after my parents died, and threw me out once he had the money."

Dudley nodded, but noticed the way Billy made himself small at the memories. "And?"

"And he treated me badly, so I was happy to go. But I have you now so it's alright, okay?"

Knowing better than to push, Dudley nodded. Still, if Billy noticed he was getting an extra nice ice cream sundae that day, he didn't mention it.

39 notes - Posted December 3, 2022

#2

Idea: A Superman movie, but from the perspective of Lois Lane.

Hard hitting reporter Lois Lane, who’s young but has been in the industry enough to be a bit jaded, is going around and doing stories on corruption and politics and investigating everything to hold people accountable. She sees people with power use and abuse it every day, and people clawing for power so they can use and abuse it. There are stories of miraculous saves, but they’re mostly rumors and unconfirmed at this point. Besides, she’s showing the new guy the ropes.

Until Lois starts interviewing a woman who barely avoided a death sentence. The woman, a high school drop out who worked as a cleaner, was innocent but in the wrong enough place to get pinned with the crime. Apparently some man in a red cape burst into the DA’s office and insisted that he stop this woman from getting the death sentence due to her innocence, and provided evidence.

Lois digs into it, but there’s no possibility for an ulterior motive. This woman doesn’t have connections or anything. She has no connection to the person who burst in. So Lois in typical Lois fashion goes a searching.

There isn’t really a pattern to the miraculous saves, or the Superman sightings.

(Nobody is beneath Superman’s notice. Nobody is beneath his aid.)

When Lois mentions it, the new cub reporter suggests that maybe this guy just likes to help. And the evidence agrees. He’ll fix a kid’s broken bicycle and do a deep dive into crime. He’s even gone after Intergang’s tangled web. So Lois is forced to ask: Is it possible that someone can be as good as they are powerful?

So since she has a lot of work done on the tangled web of corruption, and crime, she decided to go for an interview with Superman and to ask for his help with taking down some of the greatest threats strangling Metropolis.

But along the way, she’s starting to notice that the quiet cub Kansas reporter also has a habit of helping people out, and it really is quite charming...

60 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

whenever you do a prompt night I always want to send you a prompt for fun but I can only ever think of 'bad prompts', so I usually don't send anything to you. I decided that I would try one today anyway. It is going to be a 'bad prompt' so don't worry about ignoring it. this was the best 'bad prompt' I could thing of: The first time 13 yr old Jason Todd met 11 yr old Billy Batson and the first time Captain Marvel met The Red Hood

A/N: ...If this is a 'bad' prompt then I wonder what you consider a good one.

Billy sighed, kicking his feet. He was grateful, really! Even now that he was adopted by Dudley, healthcare was still an issue in Fawcett so being allowed to use the League's state of the art care for a checkup was something he was glad Superman suggested. He wished that more kids could have this, but, well, apparently the purple healing ray was hard to replicate and needed FDA approval anyway.

He sighed, feeling out of sorts as he always did when he was in a League base as Billy. Everything seemed so much larger.

"Do they have magazines?"

Billy looked to his right at the new Robin. "Not really? Most Leaguers don't really think to bring their own, and what would you bring for them anyway?"

The new Robin shrugged. "I dunno, probably not Highlights. Maybe Forbes? That's an adult magazine. I mean, one adults read, not a dirty one."

Billy raised an eyebrow at that. The old Robin wouldn't have talked about that sort of thing.

Robin squirmed. "I mean. You know. Maybe a literary magazine? I think the short stories in those are pretty cool. The New Yorker has a nice literary section."

"Huh. That would be cool. Maybe I could ask J'onn about that? He likes learning about Earth stuff, and I think he handles supplies."

"Uh, yeah. Hey, do you like to read?"

"Yeah, though I'm a bigger radio fan. I've been getting into podcasts- they remind me of those old fashioned radio serials. It's so cool, because it lets you picture the events like a book but with voice acting.

"Huh, I'll have to give those a try. By the way, what's your name?"

"Billy. Yours?"

"J-Robin. I'm Robin."

*Seven Years Later*

Gotham's wind blew the smell of waste over the buildings. Captain Marvel stayed in the air, firm.

It really said something that Batman had been so open to letting him try this.

Gunshots rang out. Captain Marvel flew over, and exhaled. It seemed that it was just a normal robbery, with henchmen too small for the infamous Red Hood to kill.

(Billy hoped that Jason remembered why his own father had been a criminal. That crime could be caused by desperation as much as malice.)

The robbers fled with scattered motion and wide eyes. Red Hood stood up and turned to face Captain Marvel.

"Gotta say, I'm surprised. There's no word of any Fawcett villains here."

"Surprised I came to see an old friend? I heard you were back and wanted to see."

"Going to follow up with a lecture?"

"I get the feeling you wouldn't listen to one."

Red Hood put away his guns. "No. I won't. I know I'm right."

"Would the street kid that loved literary magazines and being Robin have agreed?"

Tilting his mask up, Red Hood snorted. "That boy died and his murderer is still out there."

"Then who am I talking to?"

"A ghost." He flicked a flash bang towards the ground, and not even the speed of mercury could have gotten him to close his eyes before it went off. When Captain Marvel blinked them open, Red Hood was gone.

See the full post

62 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[expfcultragreen]

ahem.

Demiro

Now wait, before you say...

...hear me out. Im not even serious when i say this, but im like a huge joke to myself so its actually just self revelation in the guise of outrage-baiting the identity police (the anti-identitarian police? Theyre always just mad at specific identities; they dont hold some philosophical stance against identification, just how to identity/what its acceptable to identify as/what acceptable discourse around identity is) with snowflakery. My first thought after lol demiro, is, what does demiromantic even mean, i have an attachment disorder? Ok im killing the shrink in my head, its a reasonable signifier of an adaptive trait amounting to one facet of someone's identity. I mean we are out here labelling our degrees of romantic engagement. It's completely legitimate information for a dating profile, and because of facebook culture we are all, cross-platform, expected to inventory ourselves to some extent so that people can easily prejudge their level of interest in our content. (The different conventions followed are themselves biographical--does your twitter bio read like a business card, a webadmin sig, is it a bunch of emojis, a string of credentials, a microarray of party affiliations? Minority status report, fandom bingo sheet, quoted poetry? Larper resume? Astrology chart? No matter which one it is, the other details fill themselves in from there, dont they watson.

I got off topic)

I do wonder how useful that information is tho, demiro, like im back to my question of what does that even mean--to anyone? It could really only be relevant to someone who's trying to date me, its not particularly relevant to me because its not really something im heavily invested in as a question, how willing or able i am to engage in romantic attachment. It's an errant thought "what if for a giggle i identified as demiro like thats an immediately comprehensible term--and even if it is immediately taken for its intended meaning, doesnt that level of context only serve to beg some perplexity or mystification as to why?" Doesnt it beg the questions ive asked? Like even if you immediately get that its of an ilk to aro, as demi is to ace...i imagine youre still saying fuck is this shit

....unless youre someone who uses the demiromantic tag? Jesus it autosuggested it, theyre out here. Im not tagging it. I bet theyre serious.

I literally do not know how i would go about inventorying whether im fully romantic or not. I feel like im way more romantic than most real world examples i see but i also fall short of my own sense of being one hundo non-aro. Being poly i have this tendency to split attention and even when i have a primary partner im not like fully or exclusively attuned to them and that interferes with my ability to attune to them as needed, to the extent or at the times necessary. And i let it...because im more concerned about the repercussions of having all my emotions invested in one person it might not work out with, than i am uncomfortable with the distance that creates for people who sense that if i was fully romantically engaged in them individually, i would be more attuned to their needs, preferences etc. I think ive been in a successive withdrawing away from "codependency" over the course of my primary romantic partnerships and attachments, that its a learned response that probably even produced neuroanatomical changes that would have been minutely perceptible if finely measured over time. Of course it would be so impossible to parse those trimmings, junctions and formations from all the other shit i do thats producing changes. I heard drinking kills brains cells. And ive smokened a bowl or twain...

[skywitchmaja]

stop saying tom is princess di coded!!! he could NEVER have what she had: being nice.

[fozmeadows]

race & culture in fandom

For the past decade, English language fanwriting culture post the days of LiveJournal and Strikethrough has been hugely shaped by a handful of megafandoms that exploded across AO3 and tumblr – I’m talking Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Dr Who, the MCU, Harry Potter, Star Wars, BBC Sherlock – which have all been overwhelmingly white. I don’t mean in terms of the fans themselves, although whiteness also figures prominently in said fandoms: I mean that the source materials themselves feature very few POC, and the ones who are there tended to be done dirty by the creators.

Periodically, this has led POC in fandom to point out, extremely reasonably, that even where non-white characters do get central roles in various media properties, they’re often overlooked by fandom at large, such that the popular focus stays primarily on the white characters. Sometimes this happened (it was argued) because the POC characters were secondary to begin with and as such attracted less fan devotion (although this has never stopped fandoms from picking a random white gremlin from the background cast and elevating them to the status of Fave); at other times, however, there has been a clear trend of sidelining POC leads in favour of white alternatives (as per Finn, Poe and Rose Tico being edged out in Star Wars shipping by Hux, Kylo and Rey). I mention this, not to demonize individuals whose preferred ships happen to involve white characters, but to point out the collective impact these trends can have on POC in fandom spaces: it’s not bad to ship what you ship, but that doesn’t mean there’s no utility in analysing what’s popular and why through a racial lens.

All this being so, it feels increasingly salient that fanwriting culture as exists right now developed under the influence and in the shadow of these white-dominated fandoms – specifically, the taboo against criticizing or critiquing fics for any reason. Certainly, there’s a hell of a lot of value to Don’t Like, Don’t Read as a general policy, especially when it comes to the darker, kinkier side of ficwriting, and whether the context is professional or recreational, offering someone direct, unsolicited feedback on their writing style is a dick move. But on the flipside, the anti-criticism culture in fanwriting has consistently worked against fans of colour who speak out about racist tropes, fan ignorance and hurtful portrayals of living cultures. Voicing anything negative about works created for free is seen as violating a core rule of ficwriting culture – but as that culture has been foundationally shaped by white fandoms, white characters and, overwhelmingly, white ideas about what’s allowed and what isn’t, we ought to consider that all critical contexts are not created equal.

Right now, the rise of C-drama (and K-drama, and J-drama) fandoms is seeing a surge of white creators – myself included – writing fics for fandoms in which no white people exist, and where the cultural context which informs the canon is different to western norms. Which isn’t to say that no popular fandoms focused on POC have existed before now – K-pop RPF and anime fandoms, for example, have been big for a while. But with the success of The Untamed, more western fans are investing in stories whose plots, references, characterization and settings are so fundamentally rooted in real Chinese history and living Chinese culture that it’s not really possible to write around it. And yet, inevitably, too many in fandom are trying to do just that, treating respect for Chinese culture or an attempt to understand it as optional extras – because surely, fandom shouldn’t feel like work. If you’re writing something for free, on your own time, for your own pleasure, why should anyone else get to demand that you research the subject matter first?

Because it matters, is the short answer. Because race and culture are not made-up things like lightsabers and werewolves that you can alter, mock or misunderstand without the risk of hurting or marginalizing actual real people – and because, quite frankly, we already know that fandom is capable of drawing lines in the sand where it chooses. When Brony culture first reared its head (hah), the online fandom for My Little Pony – which, like the other fandoms we’re discussing here, is overwhelmingly female – was initially welcoming. It felt like progress, that so many straight men could identify with such a feminine show; a potential sign that maybe, we were finally leaving the era of mainstream hypermasculine fandom bullshit behind, at least in this one arena. And then, in pretty much the blink of an eye, things got overwhelmingly bad. Artists drawing hardcorn porn didn’t tag their works as adult, leading to those images flooding the public search results for a children’s show. Women were edged out of their own spaces. Bronies got aggressive, posting harsh, ugly criticism of artists whose gijinka interpretations of the Mane Six as humans were deemed insufficiently fuckable.

The resulting fandom conflict was deeply unpleasant, but in the end, the verdict was laid down loud and clear: if you cannot comport yourself like a decent fucking person – if your base mode of engagement within a fandom is to coopt it from the original audience and declare it newly cool only because you’re into it now; if you do not, at the very least, attempt to understand and respect the original context so as to engage appropriately (in this case, by acknowledging that the media you’re consuming was foundational to many women who were there before you and is still consumed by minors, and tagging your goddamn porn) – then the rest of fandom will treat you like a social biohazard, and rightly so.

Here’s the thing, fellow white people: when it comes to C-drama fandoms and other non-white, non-western properties? We are the Bronies.

Not, I hasten to add, in terms of toxic fuckery – though if we don’t get our collective shit together, I’m not taking that darkest timeline off the table. What I mean is that, by virtue of the whiteminding which, both consciously and unconsciously, has shaped current fan culture, particularly in terms of ficwriting conventions, we’re collectively acting as though we’re the primary audience for narratives that weren’t actually made with us in mind, being hostile dicks to Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans when they take the time to point out what we’re getting wrong. We’re bristling because we’ve conceived of ficwriting as a place wherein No Criticism Occurs without questioning how this culture, while valuable in some respects, also serves to uphold, excuse and perpetuate microaggresions and other forms of racism, lashing out or falling back on passive aggression when POC, quite understandably, talk about how they’re sick and tired of our bullshit.

An analogy: one of the most helpful and important tags on AO3 is the one for homophobia, not just because it allows readers to brace for or opt out of reading content they might find distressing, but because it lets the reader know that the writer knows what homophobia is, and is employing it deliberately. When this concept is tagged, I – like many others – often feel more able to read about it than I do when it crops up in untagged works of commercial fiction, film or TV, because I don’t have to worry that the author thinks what they’re depicting is okay. I can say definitively, “yes, the author knows this is messed up, but has elected to tell a messed up story, a fact that will be obvious to anyone who reads this,” instead of worrying that someone will see a fucked up story blind and think “oh, I guess that’s fine.” The contextual framing matters, is the point – which is why it’s so jarring and unpleasant on those rare occasions when I do stumble on a fic whose author has legitimately mistaken homophobic microaggressions for cute banter. This is why, in a ficwriting culture that otherwise aggressively dislikes criticism, the request to tag for a certain thing – while still sometimes fraught – is generally permitted: it helps everyone to have a good time and to curate their fan experience appropriately.

But when white and/or western fans fail to educate ourselves about race, culture and the history of other countries and proceed to deploy that ignorance in our writing, we’re not tagging for racism as a thing we’ve explored deliberately; we’re just being ignorant at best and hateful at worst, which means fans of colour don’t know to avoid or brace for the content of those works until they get hit in the face with microaggresions and/or outright racism. Instead, the burden is placed on them to navigate a minefield not of their creation: which fans can be trusted to write respectfully? Who, if they make an error, will listen and apologise if the error is explained? Who, if lived experience, personal translations or cultural insights are shared, can be counted on to acknowledge those contributions rather than taking sole credit? Too often, fans of colour are being made to feel like guests in their own house, while white fans act like a tone-policing HOA.

Point being: fandom and ficwriting cultures as they currently exist badly need to confront the implicit acceptance of racism and cultural bias that underlies a lot of community rules about engagement and criticism, and that needs to start with white and western fans. We don’t want to be the new Bronies, guys. We need to do better.  

[daenrys]

going into this weirdly deep dive on a topic i only just learned about but not in a fun way: the transautistic community, NOT to be confused with the trans autistic community.

TW: transmisogyny, transphobia, and ableism / autiphobia.

i saw a lot of discussion (and rightful outrage) about this identity in autistic tags, which, for the unaware, is basically “i’m not autistic but i want to be autistic”. that’s the “transautistic identity”, and a lot of autistic people were pushing back on this, both as being ableist and as transphobic (i should note that in the carrd and main ‘positivity’ account for the “identity”, they do specifically say that it is not a gender nor is it people identifying AS autistic, just as someone who wants to be. this clarification will be relevant later)

and, objectively, it is both those things. it certainly is transphobic to compare being trans and wanting a disorder you don’t have, and it certainly is ableist to say you want to be autistic when you’re allistic (and frankly, it’s just weird). but as i was looking through the tag, i couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, the absurdity was intentional. i read their carrd and to me, at least, it doesn’t seem like just a random troll saying offensive shit for the sake of being offensive; the language is so concise it doesn’t feel like the brand of ‘humor’ some troll type would use in a post like that. i feel it would be more extreme. still, it’s objectively deeply offensive- but i was left with the question as to whether it was maybe offensive on purpose.

it’s not uncommon for right-leaning people to make up identities, particularly LGBTQ or ND identities and PARTICULARLY trans/nonbinary identities, to try and make the community and the left at large look ridiculous to moderates, and radicalize them against us. eg: attack helicopter jokes, “did you just assume my gender?” jokes, etc. so as i was reading this, i kept asking myself, ‘is that what this is?’ and when i searched the term on twitter, i DID see a terf (and an allistic terf, at that) tweet a screenshot of the carrd. but most of the other tweets in the search were people like me, reacting to it, many of whom were trans and nb etc and almost all of whom were autistic.

the biggest argument against the idea that this is an intentional transphobic attempt to make trans identities seem absurd was what i mentioned earlier about how the transautistic-positivity blog seemed to go out of their way over to state multiple times that this ISN’T a gender identity, nor is it a neurological equivalent to being trans; these people, if real, don’t think they’re born with the wrong neurotype, they just like… fetishize their perception of autistic life. whereas i would imagine a transphobic/terf attempt at parody would continually insist that it IS the same as being trans and that them wanting to be autistic DOES make them autistic, right? like wouldn’t that fit the whole “attack helicopter” caricature they like to paint better?

also, frankly, almost 0 able bodied allistic people care about autistic issues like, at all. even among leftists. so making a “parody” identity with the intention of inflaming anti-trans sentiment but using autism to do it is… weird, and would likely not have that much effect outside of the autistic community (and a HUGE amount of the online autistic community is trans or nonbinary so like even if we’re all condemning this identity, it would likely not be very successful at igniting outrage at the intended targets, if that was the intention). and terfs have used anti-autistic arguments before, saying that the reason so many autistic people are lgbt and trans specifically is because of our naturally feeling alienated by our peers, and that that feeling is being “preyed on” to get us to “join the cult” (this is actual verbiage i have seen used on twitter by terfs, btw). so they would KNOW there’s a large overlap between the communities, so this probably wouldn’t be that successful at their goal, which makes me wonder what would actually motivate anybody to spend this much time making this shit up.

and so, i am left wondering still. i think this identity, if real, is abhorrent- but i’m hesitant to make sweeping statements about it because again, i’m not sure any real people are actually identifying as this. i’m curious to hear others thoughts. do we think this is a transphobic straw man, or a genuine identity drenched in ableism??? either way it’s awful but i think it’s important to keep in mind that it COULD be either… and to not let either hateful rhetoric spread!

[i-left-my-room-tidy]

𝓲 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓼

˚✦•·················• ✼ •·················•✦˚

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨

≿❈≾

hello darlings! here's an account to go along with my main shifting blog. if you want to ask a question about shifting (technical questions—like methods, advice, or so and so), go to @my-reality-my-rules!

this one's more focused on my DR's themselves, so it's filled with purely shifting shenanigans. technically, this blog is also a spam account. if you find anything controversial in here, please take it all with a grain of salt. I'm tired of responding to hate messages in my DM's and of constantly needing to rationalise with people.

don't mind the blog title and username—this was originally supposed to be an art blog but that plan didn't fall through, but i liked the title enough to keep it.

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•·················• ≿❈≾ •·················•

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

≿❈≾

i started my shifting journey around late september, in 2020. i didn't find any success with anything until april 2021.

i regularly shift to two DR's:

HARRY POTTER: a crossover with game of thrones/a song of ice and fire

NARUTO: specifically the warring states period, during the founders' era

all other DR's are still in the making and/or purely experimental.

if you'd like to hear about anything specific in my DR's, feel free to drop a message! whether through asks/submissions or in my DM's. i might respond more quickly to the former, though.

most of what i post here are out of context, so if you're up to reading the tags and searching for previous posts, go ahead.

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𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨

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ɴᴀᴍᴇ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʟᴇɪɢʜ ᴏʀ ᴇꜱᴛʜᴇʀ.

ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ + ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴅʀ'ꜱ:

ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ

ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ

ᴜᴘᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴅʀ'ꜱ:

ᴊᴇꜱᴜꜱ

ᴅʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ 70'ꜱ

ɴᴏʟɪ ᴍᴇ ᴛÁɴɢᴇʀᴇ || ᴇʟ ꜰɪʟɪʙᴜꜱᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴍᴏ

ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜʀᴏɴᴇꜱ

ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴡɪᴄᴋ

ᴛᴡɪʟɪɢʜᴛ

ꜰʀᴏᴢᴇɴ

ᴅʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇɢᴇɴᴄʏ ᴇʀᴀ

ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ

ꜱQᴜɪᴅ ɢᴀᴍᴇ

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𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

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kindly remember that this is a safe space.

i do ɴᴏᴛ tolerate: ableism, racism, sexism, homophobia, pedophilia, and transphobia. if you find yourself falling under any of those categories, get the fuck off my page.

i don't care if you're anonymous or so and so—if i see you harassing people on my page or simply making a general mess, i will block you.

additionally, if you don't like the content i make, then scroll. it's not that hard. don't waste your breath, and don't waste my time.

anti-shifters DNI.

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trigger warnings!!

from the DR list, you can note that I'm shifting to worlds where taboo or unsavoury topics are prevalent. I'm saying this now if you're planning to dive through the blog some time in the future and find mentions of sensitive matters.

this list of topics includes but is not limited to: murder, gore, blood, death, slavery, incest, sex, racism, sexism, homophobia, pedophilia, transphobia, and more. you don't need to read on if you're uncomfortable with any of those.

[NOTE: i don't support nor condone them, and i won't always be talking about them—but they're actually pretty common in my DR's, so I'm simply telling you now. it likely sounds contradictory compared to the previous reminder, but that's why I'm calling this a safe space; I'm up for discussion with anyone, if they ask.]

you've been warned! my DR's are not yours, so i can't guarantee you'll always like what I'm posting. I'm saying it again now, if you're uncomfortable with those topics—you're free to unfollow or simply ignore me.

also, additional warning: frequent use of vulgar language ((:

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spam likes are fine!

I'm comfortable with spam likes. don't be shy, interact all you want with the blog! so long as you follow the other reminders, you should be good to go ((:

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context for my personal stories are usually in the tags, or inside the DR journal

i actually used to make whole text posts for my personal shifting experiences. it's out of personal preference, now that I've changed it. nothing against making long posts, it's just that i felt more comfortable making shitposts and short statements. plus—there's a certain flair when putting them in the tags.

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do be careful with your messages

ANYONE can interact with this blog. that includes a mix of adults, minors, and every person in between. as such, be mindful when you send in a comment or an ask. it's a matter of welcoming people while still being respectful of their boundaries.

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𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞

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sporadic! i don't know how often I'll update this blog in particular, so there's no pattern.

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𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

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MAIN BLOG: @my-reality-my-rules

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ADDITIONAL:

i made this directory file on canva because it's a hassle to edit multiple presentations, so i just compiled them to save myself some time

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SIDEBLOGS:

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ - @everyday-shenanigans

ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ - @tobiramas-cumdump

ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ - @regulus-black-supremacy

ᴇɴᴄᴀɴᴛᴏ - @bruno-madrigal-enthusiast

ᴀᴄᴇ ᴀᴛᴛᴏʀɴᴇʏ - @eat-my-objections

ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ ʙᴀɴᴅꜱ - @to-all-these-fucking-dudes

[ꜱᴘᴏʀᴀᴅɪᴄ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ]

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𝙞 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙬 𝙜𝙪𝙢

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[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

So... I have a lot of thoughts on the finale. I've deliberately kept my mouth shut, more or less, on the campaign overall because I'm a firm believer that you can't pass judgement -- at least not complete judgement -- on stories until they're over and done with.

Well, it's done! Kind of crazy. I've been watching Critical Role with almost insane consistency, viewing almost every single episode live, with maybe five-ish exceptions, since episode 19, and I've been blogging it for, what, two and a half years?

It's a weird feeling. It's been such a constant thing for me that I'm always gonna have love for it and remember with a lot of fondness.

...Which is in spite of the fact that I can now comfortably say I'm pretty eh on the ending. I know not being positive about something most of us have loved a lot for a very long time can sting a bit, but I personally think it also stings when people relentlessly crow over how good they think it is or want it to be, to the point where you feel you can't voice your absolutely valid upsets or dissatisfactions. So, here goes, if anyone's interested! I'd be curious to see other opinions, too!

I actually drafted a post talking about my overall frustrations with the campaign a whole two weeks ago, and then scrapped most of it when 140 blew me out of the water. I was really touched, and really happy. I hadn't expected it, but it shockingly felt right, you know?

Unfortunately 141 robbed me of most of that satisfaction and brought me right back to neutral.

The blanket statement you have to make, of course, is that you can’t criticise this as a DnD game, and you can’t be mad at the cast for playing it in a way they think is best for them. They’re the players, Matt’s the DM, and in the end it makes no sense for them to try to make themselves act how they think the audience wants them to, and I’m sure most of the audience wouldn’t like the result anyway.

That said, there is an audience. And that’s where I see this clash coming in. As a DnD game, as long as the players and DM have all enjoyed it and been satisfied, it’s a successful game! But for us, it’s not a DnD game. For us, we’re watching a story be written in real time through the medium of an RPG. And while as a DnD game you can’t fault it, as a piece of media, I completely get why the way things have gone has sat weirdly for a lot of people.

It's not satisfying to see so many character hooks dealt with so quickly or left as an offscreen "and then you do it." If they don't want to keep playing to dive into it, absolutely, but for us who have been watching this as a story with all these character elements get so built up, it's a huge anti-climax.

Which is a lot of what this campaign has been, really.

Oh, Nott’s cursed! But through a really cool character moment that problem is completely taken care of with no consequences we see. Yay, I want her to be Veth and that was an iconic move from Jester! Still, it kind of feels like this was built up to be a big problem and at the first success it was let go... Caleb's got a really intense frightening past he tries to hide, I wonder how the Mighty Nein will respond? Oh, they found out, but it's not a difficult revelation for anyone. Looks like it's easy for them to move past it and forgive. Yeah, that's healthiest for the characters, but huh, kinda undercuts it as a storyline or point of interest. Oooh, Avantika’s back! Ah, they’ve killed her and grabbed the eye again. I mean I don’t want them to die or for Uk’otoa to be free, but I’m starting to feel like that’s not much of a threat anyway. The Traveler’s been kidnapped! Nah he hasn’t, he tried to save Jester so he was let go with no further issue, and also he wasn’t actually in any danger anyway. Oh... Cool. So... Why should I care or be worried?

And these are just the biggest ones I remember being kind of let down by. I wanted to see them STRUGGLE for the successes to have meaning. To my view, threats of failure -- real failure -- really decreased the more the campaign went on, with a few exceptions.

Because don't get me wrong, we've definitely had struggles, and those have made for some of the best moments! Molly’s death, Yasha’s kidnapping, Yeza’s imprisonment. When failures that were threatened are allowed to occur, it’s far more gratifying when it’s followed by success, because you understand that that success was actually necessary. It shows us that what they do really means something.

Honestly, that's why the final battle really shut me up, because nothing makes you quite feel stakes and failure like having two PCs die, and having a resurrection ritual fail -- AND knowing that failure would be delivered on, had it not been for a seemingly miraculous roll of the dice to turn it around. One of the greatest failure's -- Molly's death -- made the success of his resurrection put a lot of my other issues to rest immediately, because to be honest? Molly's resurrection was the biggest success of the campaign, exactly because it was originally the biggest failure.

But this episode, we got to see the other side of making threats and successes feel disappointing -- when you get the impression that success was robbed from you. Again, their characters, their choices, but to have them roll an intervention to get Molly's soul, to convince Molly to come back with his own possessions they've so loved, after so long and so many struggles... only to apparently not get Molly at all?

Changed, of course. Memories, maybe he'd never get them back, though that seems inconsistent to how the initial resurrection was played and Matt's hints. It even makes sense that not having his memories and being a bit different, he might forge a new identity, but insisting Molly was a different person entirely after such a supposed hard won success to get Molly back, especially after what his death meant to the audience and potentially healing that old wound? It robs the narrative of a LOT of catharsis, at least for me and I know many others.

Trent, too, I'm very up and down on. He was so built up -- and what fun that build up had -- and I very much disagreed with the idea that the best story would be dealing with him offscreen.

It's true that you don’t need to explicitly address, confront, or explore every big aspect of character's story hooks and background ties for PCs to move past them and grow healthily. But that does not make it a satisfying viewing experience. People quietly healing in real life is healthy. People quietly healing in an explosive fantasy setting is frustrating for the audience.

What on earth is the point of a story if you don’t get to SEE THE ESTABLISHED CONFLICTS go anywhere? A lot of the characters got distant, quiet resolutions, if that, to everything we wanted to see.

Except, we did get to see Trent. It was a really fun, inventive battle, from opening to conclusion, but much like Travelercon, much like Nott's/Veth's problem with the hag, these were things that the audience in general wanted to see be really dug into and explored, and every single one of them got, in my opinion, quickly tidied up instead. Trent got beaten in the first and only proper battle they had with him, which, after all his build up, is pretty disappointing for a villain many of us wanted to see be a big deal. It really just felt like they were trying to tidy up to get on with the epilogue, which is not what a lot of us were looking for with Trent especially.

And that's how most of their endings felt to me. It didn't feel like any of them had reached a comfortable conclusion. Literally all of them, bar Veth and Caduceus, continued on their character journey threads, without each other and very quickly. Meeting Yasha's tribe and Vandran, Caleb finally openly debating changing time for his parents, Trent and Zeenoth's trials and the changing of the guard at the Assembly... All were things it would have been so fun to have all the PCs react to and explore together, and instead they were fleeting encounters in the latter half of a seven hour finale.

Is all this, from Molly not really coming back to Trent being a finale side plot to the Nein continuing on their individual journeys, potentially realistic to how these fantastical things might go down in real life? Sure! But that's not necessarily a good thing.

Stories THRIVE on conflict and resolution. That’s what makes them FUN! Conflict isn’t nearly so fun in real life and resolutions are often frustrating question marks, so no, past a certain point I don’t WANT stories to be realistic. I want stories to be SATISFYING.

And campaign 2 has fallen far short of the mark.

I haven’t spoken... Basically a word of this for most of the campaign, because as I said I’m a firm believer that you can’t necessarily judge something until it’s over, and because I ALSO firmly believe that being negative WHILE trying to enjoy something is counterproductive. I have had no interest in spoiling or naysaying the fun of the campaign for anyone, least of all myself.

But it's done now, and all I can say is... I really have had fun. I love the characters. I love their relationships. I’m pretty okay with where they’ve ended up. I’m not mad, really, and I’m still going to think of this campaign with a lot of affection. But it hasn’t been a satisfying story, even though for a week following episode 140 I thought, despite all the brushed over story threads, it might be.

So... to try and reclaim some of that satisfaction for myself, I might ignore some aspects of the finale proper. Namely Kingsley specifically. Taliesin's choice -- but to me, it's pretty clear that who we saw at the end of 140 was Molly, and the tags on my posts will reflect that, just as my 141 tags will be for both Kingsley and Molly, for clarity's sake. I personally want to believe Molly did come back, however others might want to interpret it. The victory in 140 that meant so much to me is hollow otherwise, and it just kind of hurts that we would lose Molly after everything. I was okay with him being dead -- I'm not so okay with his resurrection being stolen.

Kingsley will always be canon, but Molly is what I choose to acknowledge. I get if you don't like that take, and that's okay! I didn't care for canon's in the end. That's the good thing about storytelling, is that no one can stop you from making your own versions.

For the people who are hopefully hyped for campaign 3, heck yeah have fun! I’m on the fence. My investment, which... I think I can objectively say was pretty substantive as this blog will attest, doesn't feel rewarded, so I’m not convinced I can faithfully keep up for over three years all over again with a strong possibility that I will once again be left disappointed. It's been a huge chunk of my life, and... yeah!

I’ll take a break, probably, view (and liveblog, if people want!) campaign 1 when I’ve had a mental stretch and vacation, and then... I might start campaign 3. I definitely won’t be able to put the same time in it I did campaign 2 (my first love no matter what), knowing that it’s likely to not be so vindicated, in the end.

I swear I’m actually writing this in fairly good humour, but I totally get its always disappointing when the people you come to for fandom enjoyment just aren't sharing your fun. Honestly I’m half tempted to write all those frigging AUs I have sitting around! But I wanted to say my piece, and try and logically outline why this ending has been lacklustre for so many people, ultimately myself included.

Episode 140 felt right because it felt like a natural conclusion -- these disparate people coming together and finally being whole, finally soothing the hurt that MADE them so long ago. Episode 141 spat on that sentiment -- they all scattered to the winds, not as happy people to live out their dreams, but as confused people chasing up loose threads towards an unknown future, with the friend they thought returned still lost to them, ultimately.

It doesn't feel like the ending we should have gotten for the Mighty Nine, who were finally, finally all together. Until they weren't. So to me? I choose to acknowledge that they were, even if I have to force it to happen post-epilogue in my head.