#fuelled by spite indeed.

[matcha-dango]

I'll let you off... but not this time

Yan!Childe x F!Reader

CW : yandere themes

Word Count : 1867

“This chance is hard to come by, so show me all you've got. So very few ever get a chance to square off with a Fatui Harbinger. So come now, amuse me... and don't you dare disappoint me.”

His words filled you with betrayal and confusion. How and why did this happen ? Did we really have to go through this ? You were still trying to stomach Tartaglia’s harsh words, while dodging his hydro attacks. Up until you stepped foot into the Golden House of Liyue, you felt like you have made intriguing yet reliable friends ever since you woke up near a lake in Mondstadt. Although conflicts and fights have indeed happened quite a few times so far, your newly found allies had your back. You did not expect this, yet you should have. After all, he did say that he was “kind of a bad guy” the first time you met.

“So quick to flee. Is that all you can do ? Or is something bothering you right now ?”

His words now filled you with anger and resentment. He was mocking you, wasn’t he ? You swiftly unleashed your elemental skill, using it as a shield. Tartaglia was not going easy on you, but you still knew he wasn’t serious enough. His blows didn’t feel like they were meant to kill you and this made you bitter. Bitterness mixed with hope. If he’s not trying to kill you, maybe he isn’t as bad as it may look ? Surely, the ‘Childe’ you got accustomed to wasn’t a made up character he used to trick you and Zhongli, right ?

Your boulder explodes, shooting broken parts in all directions. One quick glance was enough to understand. His expression seemed quite unamused, almost bored. You didn’t find any remorse or regret on his face. You felt your heart crack and your hopes crushed by his heavy gaze.

“Was it a lie all along …?” you dared to ask. A smirk crept up his face, making you shiver just enough for him to notice. He came closer and closer, his steps slow but confident. Each second passing made your heartbeat get louder and louder. What used to be a warm feeling fuelling a fluttering heart was replaced by tension and uneasiness. And Tartaglia knew. He was well aware of how he was making you feel all along. From the early stage of a good impression to the longing and excitement for each moment spent together, from the puzzlement to pain and distress. He knew he was the one and only source of all those feelings, good or bad – and he enjoyed each and every nuance.

“What do you think, sweetheart ? I did warn you before but you decided to follow me. I wonder whose fault is this... I have my duties as a Fatui Harbinger, but you ? You’re not even from Teyvat but you still decided to get involved with archons and abyss alike.” he replied, looking straight into your widened eyes. You couldn’t believe how much every word hurt you like a dagger. You didn’t expect to have your feeling of almost love to be destroyed with such force. Such a shame, really. You were thinking of confessing that evening, hoping he was feeling the same way you did. Hoping to get closer to someone after being left alone in an unknown world, with no trace of your lost sibling. Hoping to find some peace and emotional comfort. But all of those desires were torn apart by what you had to witness and partake in.

There was no more confusion in your heart, as it was being filled up with indignation. You didn’t mean to be so “nosy” as he was implying, your only reason was to find your sibling, after all. And you knew he knew, which made it even more infuriating. Nonetheless, you felt some relief, because you still got his ‘answer’ and you got to know who you were for him – an amusing doll he could toy with.

“I admit I was too much of a fool when I put my trust in you but I know better now. Thanks for the lesson, Childe.” you venomously stated, eyes darting in his direction. Grabbing your sword, you stood up to face him, in spite of the visible height difference.

He chuckled at your response, not feeling insulted at all. He took a few steps forward, shortening the already reduced distance between you two. Your lacking personal space felt suffocating, you couldn’t let him have his way with you. You raised your weapon, in an attempt to threaten his own personal space.

“Not bad, not bad. I’ll have to follow suit then !” Tartaglia exclaimed in excitement, as he took this as you being finally willing to fight him, as intended. You decided to strike first, making him jump back. You were set on defeating him – this was self-defence, since he started the fight, right ?

“Your swordsmanship is quite impressive. But, that's about as far as you'll get” Tartaglia asserted with confidence worthy of his strength. Being blessed with both the Anemo and Geo elements, you managed to push back against one of his many yet strong blows.

He leaped forward now that you left the space behind you open, leaving the Exuvia free to be pierced by his hand. However, to his disbelief, he did not find the Gnosis of Rex Lapis he was compelled to bring with him.

“Hahaha... I see. Well, this is most unexpected. You... You beat me to it, didn't you?” He laughingly guessed, with a hint of shattered pride. 

“I didn’t do anything ! If I really had it hidden, why would I keep on fighting you instead of running away, huh ??” you pleaded to his common sense, but even you felt that he was too lost in his ever growing lust for battle to think rationally. Maybe, you hoped, you could make him leave you alone but this revealed itself to be oh so pointless, as you saw Tartaglia become someone-, no, something else. Something much bigger, seemingly much stronger and much frightening than his battle crazed self. Tartaglia’s Foul Legacy form made you shake even more. Fear was all over your face but you couldn’t see his anymore. It wasn’t just his Fatui mask that covered his face, he didn’t look human no more.

“Not bad! But this is going to cost you!”

He didn’t sound human no more as well. His distorted voice resonated within you, amplifying the feeling of horror, your survival instinct screaming at you to do anything to escape from this. Even so as he used his spear made of his own Electro Delusion to crack the floor beneath you two, making you painfully land on the lower level of the Golden House.

“You got to the Gnosis ahead of me, didn't you!? Did you simply move faster? Or... did you leak the information regarding the Golden House to me on purpose?” He accused you, feeling a portion of the betrayal you yourself felt earlier.

“No matter. Hand the Gnosis over. Now. Don't make me take it from you.” He ordered you, making sure you felt the threat deeply within your being. You were already shaking, exhausted by the way too long fight, while having to defend yourself from someone that you still had lingering feelings for, to your distaste. Yet, you had to get up with difficulty and do everything in your power to not die right here and then.

“Nowhere to run”.

“Don’t move”.

You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by everything that was happening at a such rapid pace. You were barely able to move to avoid getting hurt any further, but that was all you could do with all the remaining strength you could gather for each step and move. A mix of fear, physical hurt, emotional pain – none of those feelings were giving you the energy you desperately needed.

As a Traveller from countless various worlds, who experienced countless fights, you couldn’t help but have a bad feeling. You were not going to win this; you didn’t have enough power – physical and mental. You were simply overpowered by Tartaglia. Who would have expected him to have so many aces up his sleeve ? But you should have, as you were well aware of his status as the youngest Fatui Harbinger in history. Defeating a few Millelith guards was far from being a fraction of his prowess.

Barbatos, Rex Lapis, Archons of any nation. Could they save you from this ? Could you even be saved at this point ? On the ground, you were bleeding from several places, bruised up, heavily panting. Your body couldn’t move any more, no matter how close Tartaglia was creeping. All sorts of loud noises that you could hear but growing distant, you knew that you were so close to losing consciousness, but you were unsure whether it was sleep or death the one about to take into its arms.

The eerie silence is what made you open your eyes wide, in panic. You saw him right in front you, as he moved his clawed hand up to his face to remove his mask. You felt a little bit relieved, seeing it was still him, that it wasn’t some monster – at least in appearance.

“As expected, you weren’t as strong as promised. What a sad loss, almost laughable.” Tartaglia poked at you with his mocking words, his weapon nowhere to be seen anymore. Eyelids too heavy, you closed your eyes once again and turn your head away, as a mean to show your disapproval.

“I’m quite disappointed, if anything. Not only I didn’t find what I expected to, but you barely did anything with your weapon and powers. But all is well. After all, this isn’t the end, yet.” he finished his sentence with a light but concerning chuckle. You couldn’t even mutter a word, no sound could come out of your hoarse throat.

Your suddenly felt large and strong arms around your wounded body, lifting you up bridal style. Struggling wasn’t an option at this point, not an ounce of strength was there to save you.

“I was thinking actually… You were alone in this world. Estranged, no friends, no family.” his tone couldn’t feel any more ominous than this. Your heart started pulsating louder and louder.

“So, while Liyue Harbor will face the wrath of an ancient god awakened by yours truly…” Tartaglia’s words trailed, in a seemingly carelessness, animating fear when you thought you couldn’t feel anything anymore. A feeling of terror and helplessness invaded your spirit. But wait ! Why was he taking you with him then ? He couldn’t possibly throw you in another chaotic ravage he was about to bring upon this place. As quickly and abruptly it all came, your emotions started fading away, with your own senses becoming duller. This time, you were going to embrace one’s arms, be it death’s or Morpheus’.

“…How about making a family on our own ?”

How heartily you wished it was indeed death, but deep inside, you knew ‘this isn’t the end, yet’.

[jayextee]

RAGE 2

In a turn of events that will shock and appal anybody who knows me personally, I'm in love with a polarising game.

"In love" is too strong a term, perhaps. The thing is, every 'RAGE 2 is shit' take I see on the Internet, the harder I wanna double-down on being a fan of this game. And its prequel, yes, I am one of the three who love it.

What we have here though, is an awkward marriage between Avalanche Studios' openworld design a la the excellent Mad Max and id Software's trademark (if you ignore DOOM 3, as I often do) brand of satisfying shootybangs. It works as much as it doesn't, so I'm gonna go through the good, the bad, and the ugly right here.

The Good

Oh for crying out loud, RAGE 2 is a beautiful game. Although sadly lacking some of the stylisation of the original game (which reminded me personally of those late '90s fully-painted 2000AD strips and covers, niiiiice...) but now we have colour! And absolutely oodles of the stuff, including my beloved pink; used to great effect to draw attention to and highlight important interactables or areas. This lends itself to a visual clarity that supplants the gunplay excellently.

And of the gunplay, oh, I have some words. They're all good words. RAGE was no sloucher in this department itself, so build upon that absolutely solid base with a bunch of Nanotrite-fuelled abilities to spice up battlefield agility and strategy and we have ourselves one hell of a fun time. Even the vehicular combat has seen a welcome shot in the arm, although it's not quite as satisfying as that seen in Mad Max, it's still pretty fun to take down the endlessly-respawning convoys across the wasteland.

The Bad

That aforementioned wasteland. 'Waste' is indeed the operative term there; for there's a lot of empty space. Now, I don't play a lot of openworld games at all (RAGE, Mad Max, and the Arkham games are basically my entire diet) so this could be par for the course. But so much of it's just

s t r e t c h e d - o u t

and lulls between that satisfying gunplay can be pretty large sometimes. Especially stings when engaging with the openworld is pretty much the meat of the game's filler content, even when playing for a minimal 'see the ending' run.

This is lessened somewhat with certain lategame vehicles (I'd have gone insane were it not for the Icarus, I tells ya) but still. Look, I've already said I like this game a lot, are you expecting a whole itinerary of complaints here?

The Ugly

Not literally ugly, as this is a great-looking game through and through. But there are bugs. Ragdoll bugs, floating prop bugs, frozen physics object bugs, enemies stomping the player through the floor bugs, invisible NPC bugs; even a particularly-heinous game-breaker that can happen literally as the final mission is supposed to trigger that so far, fingers crossed, I've managed to avoid on both a casual playthrough and a completionist one. But hey, I guess this is technically A Bethesda Game™ and I gather that pretty much goes with the territory at this point.

Also it's worth noting that the game fucking loves the Cyber-Crusher boss and there are a few of those. They don't get any more difficult each time either, it's just the one boss again. And again. And so forth.

Conclusion

It's good! I like it a lot! Even love, to spite The Internet in general because I love to cheer on any underdog I see; imagined or otherwise. It's got some flaws but I was very much willing to overlook these things for a game that, although I couldn't say was unilaterally-superior to its prequel, does nonetheless take some steps to improve upon it. And it has a proper final boss encounter as well, instead of, well, just a room that the original game had.

Unpopular opinion maybe, I wish they'd do a third. 4/5

[assortedvillainvault]

Hi Thalassa! Chance anon here! Thank you for the FANTASTIC Blitzwing content! (The Starscream bit was both hilarious AND perfectly in character for Random!). You’re amazing and I hope you feel appreciated! On another note, could we maybe get some headcanons for transformers prime Starscream and/or the Horned King figuring out that they have a crush on the human reader too, please? Thank you for your time!

Chance anon you're very welcome! Hard to not to feel appreciated with such kind words! :D

You absolutely can get this it's not like I think about exactly this sort of stuff on the daily or anything ahahaah MY BOYS ILY

I'll do the Horned King at a later date, Starscream needs some love.

TFP Starscream x Reader

Starscream is self centered and extremely one track minded, if it's not to do with killing Megatron or proving he's the more competant leader then he's not really going to register it as important.

Meaning the process from meeting you to realising he has feelings is taking the sceneic route ok it's going to take him a WHILE.

Doubly RIP becuase as a human you're not even going to register as worth his time, at least initially.

I'm going to assume Megatron has decided in his space-crack induced haze that as Optimus gets three humans he should at least get one and has yoinked you off the face of the Earth to prove a point to his Ex and ostinably use you as bargaining bait. C'est la vie.

To make matters more insulting he's handed you off to Starscream for 'care'. Starscream is furious at his downgrade to babysitter and you're not particularly jazzed that the 30ft robot made of knives and stiletto heels isn't exactly keeping his wits about where he STANDS you've had to run out from under his pacing like four times already on day one.

What Starscream does appreciate, once he's had time to cool down, is that he now has a captive audience to rant to.

It's a lot of screeching and snideness to withstand without a goddamn clue what he's mad about at first. Unfortunately nothing he rants about is enough info for you to escape with, but you live in hope and Soundwave stopped by to sneak you some earplugs about two months in to your eternal gratitude.

The first time he staggers into his quarters - where're you've been kept for 'security reasons' - battered, bleeding and with a wing half torn off, you're stunned silent. He doesn't seem to register your presence, instead twisting himself thouh the doorway with a snarl, the remaining wing high and trembling with effort.

It's obvious that this damage isn't autobot induced. You'd heard of Megatron's tendency to beat his second senseless as stress relief, and while you'd laughed about it as revenge for his shitty attitude previously, the reality stikes you sharply and uncomfortably under the ribs. Starscreams viceral hatred of his leader doesn't seem quite so comedic anymore.

You can't really change anything, but from then on you listen properly when Starscream complains, dropping a genuine query or comment here and there. The surprise in his crimson optics when you contribute the first time stays with you into the wee hours of the night.

He starts being nicer...for him. No longer do you have to worry about being manhandled or crushed, and sustenance is no longer brought with an eye roll about you being an inferior species. He even starts asking about the flight capable creatures from where you lived, clearly his love of flight transcending the species barrier as he listens to you talk about birds, bats and insects from your home life.

You can't help but grow an appreciation for the Air Commander's acerbic humour and turn of phrase. Starscream is the king of sassy scarcasm - you about made him trip over air when you cracked up over a snip at Shockwave, and in doing so you missed the giddy half smile on the commanders own faceplate watching you crack up.

As with all good things, it must come to an end. The autobots stage a rescue, and you're whisked away in the fist of an unstoppable Arcee, just able to catch a glimpse of Starscream fending off Bumblebee before the groundbridge cuts you off.

Megatron is furious that he got shown up by Optimus (Again) and took it out on Starscream (again) and now...now his quarters are empty, and cold, and quiet.

He sits in the dark, looking helplessly at the empty spot on his desk where you would sit and swing your legs while speaking with him and feels...hollow. You had become a bright spot on the Nemesis right under his nasal ridge, and he's let you slip through his claws before he even realised what exactly he was losing.

He rakes his claws through the wall plating with a roar of frustration. The sparks flare under his optics like tiny supernovas, and he turns to the console with a sneer.

Spite has fuelled Starscream for over four million years. It's pushed him though battlefronts, grief, abuse and the very limits of his own frame, all in the name of survival and, eventually, victory.

Now? Now, it's going to get you back.

Come hell or high water.

[6sakusa]

‘next time’ kozume kenma.

a/n : so this is actually based off my past relationship & i kinda wanted to make the reader the villain for once so enjoy <3

wc: 1.8k

warnings : implications of toxic relationship, angst, me not proof reading.

you stared down at your feet, eyes pooling with tears and heart racing as your now ex-boyfriend approached you. the two of you were obviously still madly in love with each other, anyone could tell that part. but what you hadn’t expected was an ocean to separate the two of you soon enough, instead of your own stubbornness.

—

“i don’t love you anymore.” that was a lie, a lie that kenma wasn’t quite sure why he told you. maybe it was because he pretty much loathed you right now, but then again, there was such a fine line between love and hate and he barely knew himself where he stood on the spectrum. all he was aware of was that he was being fuelled by an ugly emotion, jealousy? no it couldn’t be, but then how come he despised the way you would smile at lev? the way you would brush his shoulder when you laughed? the way you offered up your food to him when he said he was hungry? even though the two of you were both inexperienced in your first serious relationship he still expected you to understand that you were his, and he couldn’t stand another moment with you contemplating whether you really belonged to him or not.

“where is this coming from?” you were practically frozen in place, unaware if you had registered his words properly as you could hear your heart leaping out of your chest. you bit down on your lip hoping that this was some kind of sick joke that kuroo had put him up to, you would make sure to get the bastard back later, he would definitely pay, how could he do something so cruel-

“i’ve realised that i barely know you.” you forced yourself to look up at him at his words, clenching your fists to the point where your nails were digging into your own skin at a poor attempt to deflect emotional pain with physical pain. so this wasn’t a joke? you scoffed at the realisation, but despite your cool and put together demeanour you felt cold. this heartbreak was slow, it was unexpected and refused to register itself the way it should. perhaps it was because deep down you knew that his words weren’t true, of course he loved you, he always had. so why were you acting like this? it seemed spite was deeply embedded where there was once love and you certainly wouldn’t provide him with a response that would satisfy him.

he wanted you to beg and you knew it, the reason you knew it is because you had made him do it over and over again. at times your relationship felt like a game of cat and mouse as you would always scurry out of kenma’s grasp the second your relationship was heading in the right direction, and it was all because you liked it when he would trail after you, when he’d apologise even though it made him nervous, when he whispered sweet nothings in your ear just to get you to forgive him even though it made his anxiety peak and his cheeks flaunt a dusty pink colour.

but you weren’t like him, no, and you weren’t gonna concede the same way he had done countless times. because you saw this for what it truly was, a game of tag and kenma had decided to make you it. but you would change that soon enough, even if you had to break your own heart to do it.

pride was a sin, not any sin but one of the seven deadly sins and there was no surprise that the deadliest one of them all was your speciality because you would die to persevere your pride if you had to.

“so these months we spent together.. if you didn’t love me then why did you waste time?” it was a mystery to kenma how you were so well put together right now, wasn’t this the moment where you’d start crying? weren’t you supposed to be reminiscing now? this as your cue to say that you could be better, that you’d do better, that you’d do anything. but no, you did none of that, why did you do none of that? do you not care? did you even love him? he was baffled how you were the one asking the questions right now even though there were a million going through his mind.

“i really liked you at first, i thought we could make this work but, w-we’re too different, we barely know anything about each other, what’s the point being together?” he stumbled on his words and you knew you were in the lead. you definitely had the upper hand here because even though kenma was one of the most relaxed people you’d meet in public, behind doors when it came to you he was an emotional wreck, and right now he was playing right into your hands.

“what don’t we know about each other?” you asked, biting back a smirk, you were almost amused in anticipation of his response. it wasn’t that you didn’t love kenma because you did, but something about inexperienced love lead to this, and if this was the end it’s only fit to make it an entertaining one right? because when you went home you knew that you would be biting back your sobs but for now- while it lasts, you had to win this at any costs.

“look, i can't name specific things but you know what i mean, i know that you understand what i’m saying.” he hated this, he hated standing here trying to pick apart what was wrong between the two of you, but ultimately he was correct, there was a void when it came to you two knowing each other well enough, it wasn’t something that could be voiced but instead felt. when had the two of you spent quality time outside of school? or even gone on dates? had you ever even facetimed each other? he couldn’t recall. but despite all this he loved you with a depth he wasn’t sure you’d ever understand and for the longest time he was willing to wait for you to be comfortable and open up. but instead here he was, throwing the same things back in your face that he claimed to be okay with when you had first voiced your concerns on why you didn’t think the two of you would be compatible.

“y/n i’m sorry but-“ “no, don’t pull that bullshit on me you’re not sorry, don’t even bother ever trying to speak to me again.” you interrupted, of course you had to be the one to say it, there it was again your selfish pride. it was sad- no, tragic how much you based your self-worth around it and even though that worth was crippling away you wouldn’t let it go yet, no, not until you were done here. “don’t be childish about this, come on.”

“did you not hear me before? don’t speak to me ever again.” you scoffed wanting to reinforce the last blow as hard as humanly possible. but even though on the outside you were quite the bitch, no one could ever understand the hurricane of emotional turmoil that was sweeping itself through you right now, because it took everything not to cry right there, not to beg him to stay, not to make empty promises about how you’d do better. what you wish you’d known is that he was going through the exact same thing, because the two of you were too stubborn for your own good.

“fine.” he clenched his jaw but his voice was below a whisper, it wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was never supposed to go like this. the two of you walked away from each other and the further away you got the more it started to hurt as the two of you realised how hopelessly in love you were with one another. it was a slow heartbreak indeed.

—

and that was what had taken you to this point, only a month later finding out that you would be travelling overseas to live with your cousins. that’s when it hit you that the two of you truly wouldn’t get back together despite the constant pining on both ends even after you had told him not to speak to you.

“i hate you.” you muttered through your sobs not even being able to bring yourself to look him in the eye. you cursed yourself for being so stubborn, maybe the two of you would’ve had one more month together, now all you wanted was to go back in time, to be with kenma again battling for his attention against the switch. you smiled sadly at the thought as he stood before you after receiving the news that you’d be leaving soon from none other than lev, it’s a pain how things had turned out.

“why?” he asked, not as emotional as you but god he wanted to be, but he had to be strong right? for you..? he’ll be damned if he lets your last memory with him be tear stained and heartbreak.

“you said you didn’t love me anymore, remember?” you chuckled bitterly thinking back on it, in the moment you wondered why you were so hellbent on turning the whole thing into a game, you hated yourself more than anything right now, even more than you claimed to hate kenma.

“i was lying.” he brought his finger to your tears, wiping your liquid heartbreak before bringing you into his embrace and you swore you could see fireworks. it was almost a movie like moment, you wish you could freeze time and stay like this forever but alas this was your punishment for your pride, for your sins.

“i don’t wanna leave.” you sobbed into his shoulder finally letting the dam break, it was true, you wanted nothing more than to stay here, where he was. maybe it was the way that he stroked your hair while you cried or the way you inhaled his scent but you knew this was home.

“i’m sorry.” you looked up at him at his words, if anything you should be the one apologising, there were so many things you wished you had done differently and so many moments you wanted to share in the future but you knew your time together was coming to an end. “i’m sorry too.” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady as you clinged onto his hoodie.

“you know we’ll see eachother again one day.” he mumbled into your hair and you could’ve just melted right then and there.

with shaky hands and an overbearing sense of love you pulled away with a sad smile that he returned. “i’ll see you next time.”

[shortkingvi]

I agree with everything you've said today about people's disdain for masc lesbians and how that relates to fandom portrayal of Yang too. Any thoughts to how this also relates to Catra bc from what I've seen, if someone on twitter even suggests the idea that they're not a fan of femme Catra, part of the fandom goes ballistic. iirc a few months back alot of shera artists drew femme catra just to "spite" a few people who were uncomfortable seeing her as femme. And spite is the keyword here, I saw it used alot. Like there's a difference between spiting incels and spiting other queer women. Idk that whole situation made me super uncomfortable as a masc lesbian myself.

ahhhhh yes i do indeed have a lot of thoughts on gender expression in spop!

let’s eliminate catra’s horde gear for a moment and look at her presentation in the moments when she gets to dress and express herself, namely princess prom and adora’s vision of the future,,,,,,,, we’ve got suit catra! both times, catra’s wearing a suit or suit adjacent, meaning she’s likely more comfortable presenting this way,,,,,,,

now, we can’t always go strictly based on clothing here because you could argue that femmes wear suits too or whatever, so let’s go on context clues,,,,,, in princess prom, catra leads during the dance,,,,,, since dance is often a space where gender is played out VERY traditionally, the narrative is positioning catra as masculine here,,,,,, combining her role as lead with her choice of clothing, the narrative gives us way more insight into catra as butch, futch, or just generally masc rather than femme or hyper femme

now, what gets me even MORE annoyed is the fandom assertion that SCORPIA is butch,,,,,,,, because obviously a large, strong woman with short hair MUST be butch right???? let’s ignore her inherent femme presentation in the story because big woman = butch, right?????? it takes a whole lot of not analyzing your own stereotypes to make the argument the scorpia isn’t femme

making a masc (or masc-femme) character like catra solely femme just to spite masc lesbians is SO hurtful and internally homophobic,,,,,,,, take a moment and think about why you’d want to “spite” masc lesbians,,,,,, is it because you think they are a bad representation of the community? is it because you are stuck in the idea of what men and women should look like? or do you just not care about canonicity so long as you’re fuelling your own projections?

part of it also has to do with ppl seeing adora as masc because,,,,,,,, she ra is buff???? idk what the rationale is there,,,,,,, anyways i think a lot of ppl are uncomfortable with the concept of masc lesbians dating each other because obviously we must remain in 1950s butch-femme dynamics to appease the hets,,,,,,, so, since they can’t POSSIBLY imagine buff adora being femme (because in their minds buff = strong = masculine) they have to make catra the femme one even at the expense of their own community members

we won’t even get into the racial connotations behind the demonization of masc women and who we perceive as “acceptably femme,” but in essence, i think anyone seeking to “spite” masc lesbians simply for looking at canon and going “this character is masc” needs to either meet some lesbians in the real world or begin to analyze the residual prejudices they’re holding onto

[lorei-writes]

Trials and Tribulations of an Unconsenting Time-Traveller

Part 7 - You know no more than you were tested

OC x ???* Interactive Previous Parts: Masterlist Premise: I sent my OC to Sengoku. Help me decide where will this story lead!

This time I present you with two choices. I hope it works, I’m really rusty. >,>

Content Warnings: blood, war, injury, pain

The room was silent, save for the pounding of Maria’s heart, the sound chained within her nearly causing her bones to vibrate. “Stand up,” a demand left his lips, the world fading in its wake, a familiar sort of rush spreading through her body. She was on her feet, already, a fan below her chin urging her to raise her gaze, Nobunaga staring at her intently. “Why?” he asked. “My knowledge is no use here. I can learn. I can be useful.” “To teach somebody takes resources. You do not know the language.” Something inside of her faltered. “If you so chose, I could name you a foreign princess. You could live without a care, pretty and spoiled. I will ask again: why?” “I was pretty. I hated it.” Maria smiled brightly. “Even when I was not pretty. I hated it. I ask again: help.”

Guide:

Each chapter you will be presented with a choice(s) which will influence the story - a question(s) at the very bottom of the post. Two answers to it are mine, the third one - is completely up to you.

You can add your vote by putting one of the options in the reblog / comment below the chapter.

Before I get to writing the next part, I will count up all the votes. The option the story will follow will be either the one with the greatest number of votes, or the one suggested completely by you (depending on which is more inspiring).

If no votes appear, I will simply go by my own choice. There is no set time limit of voting - as long as the next part hasn’t been released, assume it’s still okay to vote.

Characters in this story are assumed to be speaking few different languages. The following is assumed: normal dialogue notation = Japanese; dialogue written in italics = English. Any phrases not written in English will be put in the dictionary at the bottom of the work.

Uroda rzecz nietrwała = Beauty is a passing thing

The room was silent, save for the pounding of Maria’s heart, the sound chained within her nearly causing her bones to vibrate.

“Stand up,” a demand left his lips, the world fading in its wake, a familiar sort of rush spreading through her body. She was on her feet, already, a fan below her chin urging her to raise her gaze, Nobunaga staring at her intently. “Why?” he asked.

“My knowledge is no use here. I can learn. I can be useful.”

“To teach somebody takes resources. You do not know the language.”

Something inside of her faltered.

“If you so chose, I could name you a foreign princess. You could live without a care, pretty and spoiled. I will ask again: why?”

“I was pretty. I hated it.” Maria smiled brightly. “Even when I was not pretty. I hated it. I ask again: help.”

It was a second, not a moment longer, the corner of his lips twitching as if to form a grin. Nobunaga took a step back and sat down, the fan returning to its place between the folds of his kimono.

“I will give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Understood,” Maria replied, her face returning to its neutral expression. A bow, her back soon turning towards him – the door opened and she was gone, a chuckle spilling out of his lungs. Interesting, indeed. Perhaps finally he’d have his playtime.

Tyle tylko wiesz, na ile cię sprawdzono = You know no more than you were tested

Some things one cannot prepare for, or so at least was her belief, her back pressed firmly against Nobunaga’s chest, the man being seemingly rather pleased with himself. As for her… Maria would be content with wiping the smile off of his face, the entire situation reminding her more so of a playtime with a child than a reasonable request. A battle, he said – and although internally hesitant, she refused to withdraw, fuelled by pure spite. Spite, however, is not a feasible power.

They rushed, and her stomach turned, hoofbeat taking over the air around them. Metal clung, overpowered by whinny and chatter, their pace only ever increasing as they neared their destination.

“There’s no going back now,” his voice snuck by her ear.

“I know. And I will make it.”

“How do you know?” Nobunaga asked, laughter rumbling through his lungs.

“Because there is no going back now.”

A battle, he said – and she could have sworn the scream inside of her head roared, the commotion growing so absolute until only silence remained. Shouts, shots fired at the enemy, clouds of smoke lifting into the air. Was any side any righter? Any better? Maria could not tell, blood splattering abundantly even out of the shallow cuts, a steady, although weak, stream of injured retreating for their wounds to be dressed, the less affected returning to the fight. She could take care of the wounds, at least in theory, the practise coming along as she assisted the doctor, her hands trembling ever so slightly. Broken bones, twisted joints, all less and more terrifying than what she anticipated. She brushed the sweat off of her forehead, her hair kept back in a braid. Perhaps she wished she had picked a different colour of a ribbon.

But there was no going back, and neither the sun could rise twice on the same day. Tired, Maria stepped out of the tent, her legs shaking. Chatter rose over the camp, triumphant laughter taking over the quiet of the night, fires beginning to burn – so unlike the movies she saw, Maria thought, close to joining the commotion herself. There was something to exhaustion she missed, indeed, each breath filling her lungs to the very brim. Oddly elated, she looked around from where she stood, soon directing her steps towards what she reckoned could be Nobunaga’s quarters, the voice coming from inside only confirming her assumption… She stopped before reaching the entrance, however, the meeting inside surely being more important than the matter she had to discuss. Her legs growing heavier, she sat some distance away, oranges and reds beginning to wash over the horizon.

The council, the meeting – whichever it was – lasted well into the night, her eyelids growing heavier with each glance towards the entrance. It appeared that, for each person that exited it, two joined inside, soon hurrying off somewhere, only to return with a map, a report, paper, and other of the like. Her back touching the ground, Maria sighed, dew cooling her skin and causing it to prick.

“Sleeping already?”

She pushed herself up instantly, Nobunaga looking down at her. She brushed the dust off of her kimono and straightened her back.

“No. You were busy. I was waiting.”

“Then?”

“I’ve made it,” she claimed, a bright smile creeping onto her face. “And will again.”

Nobunaga tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Your request is accepted then.”

Nauka to do potęgi klucz = Wisdom is the key to power

The day of their return came faster than she expected, the semi-familiar hallways welcoming her back – alongside a seemingly devastated Hideyoshi, although she assumed it was not meant for her… Or at the very least, it was not meant to be until he saw her, his eyelid twitching upon taking closer look at her state. His hands on her shoulders, Maria winced, an avatar of mother hen glaring at her in an accusatory manner.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” she replied instantly.

“Slept?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you look like a tanuki?”

Perhaps he cared about others more than she initially assumed.

For Kyubei to be late for their lessons was unusual, the man usually emerging, seemingly out of thin air, right before the set time – not then, however, much to Maria’s surprise. Initially confused, she opted to wait regardless, minutes passing by slower than usually. Perhaps she confused the date? It was possible, although not likely…

A moment passed before she realised a person was sitting on the other side of the table, Mitsuhide shaking his head.

  “If you truly were a mouse, little one, you would be eaten and would not even realise,” he noted, Maria pouting in reply.

“Foxes walk quietly,” she grumbled, the man patting her head as to annoy her further.

“So is in their nature,” he agreed, his tone shifting for a moment. “I think you outgrew the potential of our lessons, little mouse.”

Maria tilted her head to the side.

“I… I see?” she hesitated. Well, she did gain the basics, yet they were just that and nothing else, a thought ran through her head – there surely was a reason for such a development? Fearful of being a bother, she stayed quiet however, curious whether he’d try to explain it further… But he did not, instead raising to his feet, a piece of paper in his hands.

“Well then, I do need to deliver this. If you will excuse –”

“Wait. If… If you’re go just to deliver it… I can do it. I will be going, no?”

!This choice will have major influence over the story line! What should Mitsuhide do?

a. Deliver the message himself. b. Allow Maria to deliver the message for him.

Bonus choice~ Who should see Maria during her medicine practise?

c. (Pick a suitor)

Dictionary

Tyle tylko wiesz, na ile cię sprawdzono - idiom; you do not know how you will react to something until it happens

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @rikumorimachisgirl, @bestbryn, @kink-rabbithole @xarexraven If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

[nancy-laura-spungen]

Indeed, more recently the picture of Lydon as a nasty, callous, evil, manipulative bastard was fuelled by Deborah Spungen's book on Nancy (and Sid) called 'And I Don't Want To Live This Life'. I mention Mrs Spungen's account to the singer.

Lydon: "It's really horrible, really bloody terrible," he maintains with annoyance. "That book was all fantasy, spiteful and vicious. And I came out as, like, the instigator of Sid's downfall, which was really stupid of her. I should have sued her."

So why didn't you?

Lydon: "Because then I'd be overpublicising something I wouldn't want read in the first place. It'd be like hanging myself. It's ludicrous, because if I started that sort of thing I would be in court forever and a day with all the rubbish that has been written about me. Where would I begin? The list is endless."

[fortune-fool02]

Inheritance

Funny Valentine x daughter reader

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: Spoilers for Steel Ball Run, angst

This is my first attempt of writing for Funny Valentine so please forgive me if he’s out of character. I am unsure if I will continue writing for him as it depends on this scenario. If you think I should continue, please comment on it as it helps. 

Thank you and please enjoy.

In all her lifetime [Name] has learned many things about how the world worked. How power over those beneath you gave you the right to lead. How sacrifices had to be made in order to lead the country to greatness. To “take the napkin first” as her father would say. 

Her father, President Funny Valentine, had done everything in his power to teach his daughter all he could. Everything from obtaining and controlling her Stand,[Stand’s Name], to knowing when a sacrifice must be made to letting nothing stand in her way to reach her goal. People were pawns, stepping-stones for a path to greatness. That was what her father wanted to teach her. 

After all, he planned for her to take his place when the time was right and he wanted that Holy Corpse to be in their grasp before that time was upon them. A way to secure both his country’s fate and his daughter’s. 

Well, that was the plan until [Name] discovered just how many lives that have been “sacrificed” for this Corpse. She would not have cared if they were necessary but the number of bodies that piled up disturbed her. These people had families somewhere. They were once someone’s child; as she was to Valentine. Was she to be a sacrifice if needed to be? Would her father stoop to the low level of using his own flesh and blood in the name of the good for his country? 

[Name] would not put it past her father, no matter how much he tried to reassure her he would do no such thing. That was when she turned and left without a word, disappearing entirely with only one thing on her mind. Her newfound goal: 

Do not let her father get the Holy Corpse. 

With knowing the true purpose of the Steel Ball Run Race, [Name] joined the other competitors under the name of [Name] [Surname]. Her appearance altered and hidden to the point of being unrecognisable unless you knew what to look for. It also benefited her as her father rarely allowed her to be seen by the Press or Media, and if she was in the int Media then she was always by his side, standing much like a solider of sorts rather than a family member. 

Plus, [Name] has had years of Horse-riding lessons by her side, taught by only the best professionals money had to offer. Thus, giving her a talent for the sport as well as a love for the hoofed animals. They were incredible and deserved respect. 

However, when she entered the race, she was unaware of the adventure this was going to turn into. First of all, Gyro Zeppeli and Johnny Joestar. Where did she start with those two? 

Well, Gyro was a flamboyant man with a layer of arrogance for his abilities. His weapons -his Steel Balls- proved to be a remarkable weapon, along with the technique used for them. There was also this comedic nature of him that seemed to express itself when needed. 

Johnny was a little colder than Gyro, a fallen celebrity of horse-racing until his unfortunate accident that resulted in the inability to use his legs, but there was a burning determination in his eyes that fuelled his passion for this race. Though, unlike Gyro, there was this hunger in the man. [Name] could tell within minutes of meeting him and talking to him. 

Originally, she had no intention of even talking to them until she discovered that Johnny had found the Left Arm of the Corpse. That was when she decided to introduce herself to them, telling them of her true intentions for joining this race as well as her name. To say they were shocked that the daughter of the President of America was willing to aid them in their search was an understatement. She offered her help in exchange for the Holy Corpse parts, which Johnny was quite reluctant with, an understandable reaction. 

In spite of this, [Name] joined their little group in their goal to finding the Corpse parts. With the conversations that she had witnessed between her father and his followers, she had an idea of the road ahead of them was not going to be a smooth path.

***

The talk that Diego Brando had to offer was more than surprising for Valentine. The man was demanding the city of Manhattan in exchange for the Holy Corpse parts. He was certainly not asking for little, and to demand it was something that Valentine found almost amusing. With his interest rapidly fading, he was about to turn and deny the offer when something caught his attention immediately. 

“You don’t know where your daughter is, do you?” His eyes widened for a second at the mention of his daughter, who had indeed been missing for a handful of weeks now. His eyes shifted back to the blonde man, colder than ice and sharper than a blade. 

“I’ll tell you, if you want.” Valentine turned his head towards him, showing that he had his full attention. “She is in the Steel Ball Run Race. Aiding Gyro Zeppeli and Johnny Joestar.” Those words struck through the man like a blade. His beloved daughter was helping those who challenged him? Why? After all he has done for her. 

Well, perhaps it was time for him to have a chat with his daughter. 

***

Everything was gone. Gyro Zeppeli was dead. Diego Brando was dead. The people that she had grown close to, who she had been willing to sacrifice herself to keep them safe, who had accepted her for who she was, were gone. The first friends she ever had killed by her father’s hand. 

And now, Johnny was going to kill her father. As she laid there, bleeding from the wound on her side, she watched with hollow eyes as her father was trapped in a loop of being dragged back into the ground like the hands of the damned were trying to drag him to Hell. The argument between Valentine and Johnny was distant to her, the tidal waves of this… could she even call it an adventure anymore? Whatever this was, crashed against her, flooding her body with a sense of loss and emptiness. Slowly, her hand reached to her jacket where her gun rested, pulling it free from its holster and pushing herself to her feet, her free hand clutching her wounded side. 

She limped over to the two males, her expression void and empty, a cold mask. Valentine’s attention shifted from Johnny to his daughter then to the gun in her hand. He felt no fear at the sight of it. No urge to beg for his life like he had with Johnny. 

Instead… he felt pride. Pride in the fact that his daughter was the one willing to take it into her hands to kill him. A deed that he would never have been able to do. Unlike with Johnny, Gyro and those others, Valentine had no wish to kill his daughter; harming her was bad enough for him. Yet, she did not hold this weakness. She was stronger than him. 

He then did something that threw Johnny of guard. He smiled. The kind of smile that a parent had when their child overcame a situation that could have made or broke them. A proud smile. As he knelt there, looking at his daughter, Valentine realised something. He had realised just how much his [Name] had grown from a small, scared child into a strong, powerful woman. 

In that moment, her childhood flashed before his eyes. Her birth. Her first steps. Her first words. The time they shared bonding together. When she would hurt herself and try and be strong, not shedding a tear despite how they built in her [Eye colour] eyes. When she first developed her Stand and was afraid of it. All of it. 

“[Name],” he spoke softly, the same tone he used to use on her to soothe her when she was afraid. “I am so, so proud of you. You overcame weakness and claimed what was yours.” he smiled at her, looking into her [Eye colour] eyes and seeing that hardened steel in them. The eyes of a leader. “You took the napkin first.“ 

The gun clicked and rose up, aiming for his head. She was going to be alright, he knew that. She was going to lead this country to greatness. And he couldn’t be more proud of her. 

Then the gun was fired. 

[archduke-frederick]

REGÉ-JEAN PAGE, 32, FREDERICK BABENBERG. ❝ ⤚⟶ EUROPE, 1458. thanks is given by the ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA, FREDERICK BABENBERG, from AUSTRIA. they are at best AMBITIOUS, and at their worst EXPLOSIVE. whilst abroad, their ambition is to CONVINCE EUROPE OF HIS RIGHT TO RULE, THUS DEPOSING APOLLONIA. HE seems to remind everyone of REGÉ-JEAN PAGE & FALCON CLAWS CLAMPED TOO TIGHT UPON A LEATHER GLOVE, THE MIST OF WINTRY BREATH BEFORE ONE’S FACE, AND A PERFUMED BATH SCORCHING THE TOE THAT TESTS ITS WATERS. ❞ 

HISTORY:

Frederick’s father, an Austrian prince, was an ambitious man, if easily distracted. He desired to prove his worth by navigating trade deals with far flung kingdoms, and was so keenly adventurous that he was rarely seen in Austria. He forged a great relationship with the kingdom of Zimbabwe, particularly, and was lauded for forging profitable trades of gold and ivory. However, his trips to Zimbabwe became more and more frequent, as he had fallen in love with its eldest princess, Cebile, and she in love with him. The relationship was discouraged as Leopold ought to marry someone from a country with closer ties to their country, but he had always been willful, and in time they were wed. Their marriage was not fruitful, bearing only one son, but it was extremely loving.

Unfortunately, in spite of this union Austro-Zimbabwean relations did not improve massively, particularly after several large ships transporting gold were lost in a storm. Frederick was raised to believe in love, and was quite sheltered from the tempestuous politics of the HRE, so as a boy he had no real idea of his birthright. When Emperor Maximilian died it was vaguely noted that technically he had the right, but his parents preferred to keep him away from that. He was their only son, and they didn’t want to put him at risk, not even for power. At first he was ignorant, quite content in his studies. Frederick was a keen linguist, particularly in his shared mother tongues of German and Shona, and also proved a quick study in falconry -- a passion he carries with him still.

Kept in relative ignorance, he didn’t particularly question his place in the world until his parents died when he was still quite young. They perished on a journey to his mother’s home when their ship was attacked by pirates, leaving Frederick in the care of his tutors. They gave him a more rounded education, focusing more on court and politics - already the wheels were turning in his head, but the real catalyst for his burgeoning anger came during an attempt on Apollonia’s life that left her sick in bed for weeks. Everyone thought she would die, and Frederick began to prepare for the throne. When Apollonia lived, denying him that right, he was furious, and he’s not really calmed down since then.

PERSONALITY:

Frederick is fuelled mostly by anger. He is angry that his parents, by attempting to shelter him, instead denied him the role he was born to fill, and he is especially angry at Apollonia for taking advantage of his parents softness and seizing a throne that was not hers. This rage is kept behind a cool, even charming, veneer, but it is a thin veneer indeed and maintained only by sheer obstinacy. Frederick believes he will need to curry favour with as much of Europe as he is able, to obtain their support so that one day he can take the throne without issue; so, he does his best to charm whenever possible. Apollonia is the only person that sees the true extent of his rage, as he makes no secret at all of how much he loathes her. He does, however, have a soft spot for gentle souls. Although he feels wronged by his parents' detachment from politics, he appreciates that their actions came from a place of love. Sometimes he even wishes he shared that softness, but it has all been burned out of him. He is, though, fiercely protective of more gentle people, and will not stand by and watch anyone getting bullied.

[altairtalisman]

Hi, hello, hey, yes, I have fallen off these reminders for a chunk of time, terribly sorry for that, school’s a bitch, but anyway-

Nightly reminder that you’re a fucking boss ass bitch and you can kick life’s sorry motherfuckin’ ass because you’re fueled by chaos and spite. And even if life sucker punches you, the people who love you will be there in your corner to help get you back up to kick life between its legs like the badass bitch you are. You’re fucking loved and cared for and supported and if you think otherwise, ho ho, buddy bitch, I’m gonna fucking find you and wrap you in cuddles and bring you comfort snacks and drinks, don’t test me, you beautiful and amazing human being.

School is indeed a bitch, and I’m not the type to be fuelled by spite so... nyeh.

Would give you a longer reply but I don’t have much time while we struggle with the lights.

If anything, we’re killing the lights, killing the actors, killing the actresses at this rate-

[hegglespeggles]

How to write an essay you could not care less about in 10 steps

Hello. I have an essay to write.

I am also, (unfortunately) the kind of lazy, apathetic burnout who will only do my FUCKING work if I get really worked up. Usually that ends up meaning all of my papers are spite-fuelled tirades but my profs seem to like them so fine. I hope you find this particular raging tirade useful.

Today, I would like to educate the 4 of you that will actually see this on a fine art I have perfected over the years. Writing a paper, about which, you do not give a single, solitary, crumb of a fuck about. This is (you may have guessed) and excellent way for me to procrastinate doing a paper that *I* do not give a single solitary crumb of a fuck about. For best results, I recommend doing this NIGHT-BEFORE-PANIC like, a week in advance so you can fix all the NONSENSE that your more reasonable brain will undoubtedly find. But if it’s the night before and you are shit outta luck, this will get ���er done. And with practice, you can even pull good grades outta these bitches.

 Dissociating? I gotchu. Woke up the day of the deadline to feel like absolute utter garbage? Search no more friends.  

  FAILING GRADES ARE BETTER THAN ZEROS JUST FUCKIN DOOOOOO ITTTT

1.    Go get the prompt.

I fucking mean it. Even if you are like 1000% sure you know what the prompt is asking, go to the FUCKING assignment, and copy that shit into your word document. Got the assignment on paper? TYPE THAT SHIT UP MOTHERFUCKER.

(Do you see what I fucking have to deal with)

Boom?

BOOM.

Congratulations, you now have a document, and whats more, there are WORDS in it!! You aren’t starting from scratch anymore kiddo. Fringe benefit, you always know EXACTLY what the assignment wants because its fucking Staring You Down. Not saying you have to do exactly as it says, mama didn’t raise no BITCH and I aint scared of fuckin CALLING PROFS OUT but if you wanna break the rules you gotta know what they are first

(Disclaimer: I have also been kicked out of class on numerous occasions for fighting with the prof and had full classes where the lecture WAS me arguing so maybe take my opinions of conformity with a grain of salt.)

2.    Math THE FIRST

I know, this is an essay and not a fucking calculus test. But some of this shit is USEFUL OKAY

Take the paper in question. How long does it have to be? Mine is 5 pages. A page is generally accepted to be 250 words (double spaced because we FUCKING LOVE OURSELVES) so 5 x 250 = 1250 wds. That’s the goal. That’s the pinnacle. That’s your new holy grail.

Time to split this bitch up

  3.    Yarrrrrr, CONTENT

And finally, we get to the part that is the reason why you are being an absolute bitch baby about this essay (maybe. I might be projecting. Your life is your life and im sure youre doing your best.) I Hate this part, but now with our magic number we don’t need to pull 5 pages out of the ether.

This part really requires you to know your vibe. Is this something that you have a lot of little opinions (read: evidence) about or like, only 2 or 3 big bois? Look deep into your soul and figure out which is the easiest for you to shit out, a rant or a list. a  great way to do this is to WRITE ANYTHING YOU GOT OUT

Here you can see I’ve put all of the thoughts I have about the question into a list, slapped some standard “opening” and “closing” shit around it so I can FUCKING FIND IT AGAIN and given it a good hard look. Whats the common thread in all of my opinions? That the prompt is fucking stupid and makes no sense is asking 2 different questions. Congratulations: you found your thesis. This essay, like many of my essays, bears the thesis “this is a weird question to be asking” (which falls under my broader category of “bitches aint shit” essays.)

Congratulations you have the bare bones of your skeleton.

  4.    MATH THE SECOND

 The magic number returns. All hail our glorious leader. 1250 right?

So heres how I break this down. Break off a small chunk at the beginning. For this essay im gonna split off the 250. Split that baby in half. Congratulations, now you have a word count on your opening and closing. Personally, I know I like a lil extra space at the end to get all ranty, so Imma split this puppy up 100 for my opening and 150 for the closing. WARNING: You will think that you will be able to write enough in your opening and closing to take up lots of space. You will feel the urge to give them both the same amount of words that you give your points. This is misguided and foolish. Not only will you 1) not be able to do it but 2) even if you did, that’s like getting a sandwich which is all bread. No one wants that. Don’t be that dude. Fight the urge.

 RIGHT SO. We’re still left on the other 1000 words.

If you have an idea that like, is bigger than the others, go ahead and give that puppy more of the word count than the others, fractions are your friend here and you wanna think about how much of your final product each of these babies will be. If you, like me, are an utter buffoon with no clue what youre doing, open your calculator up. Divide the remaining word count by the number of points you have. Congratulations. Youre doing the essaying.

If this is enough to get you started, GREAT! See you at step seven. BEFORE YOU GO I would like to give you this tip

5.    CITE YOUR INFORMATION AS YOU ADD IT IN.

It doesn’t need to be a full citation, just literally a footnote with something that will help you remember where its from and for the love of god WHAT PAGE IT IS ON. The you of 3 hours from now will thank you.

  6.    Filling in the skeleton

 I don’t know about you, but I cant exactly riff off of a single sentence. Like, I know what the VIBE of my point is, but like, I cant pull it out of a hat. The name of the game here is whittling down your arguments into thinner and thinner chunks that are easier and easier to bullshit. This is how you avoid that “burning building found in flames during Brooklyn fire” bullshit that memes. You don’t wanna meme. You wanna pass. So, figure out what the things you are gonna say and in each bit, keep track of how many words you are gonna write. EITHER

a)      You put how many words you think you can write on any point beside the point as you go and just keep developing points and shuffling word counts around until it matches the total for that section

or

b)     You evenly breakup the word count between all the points and keep breaking them down until you look at a subject and a word count and go “yeah that’s doable. I can do that.”

I prefer the second so LEGGO.

Ta-Da!

7.    Write ‘er up

Ahhh glad to see we’re all back together again. Try-hards who can ACTUALLY bullshit papers, glad to see you’ve rejoined us! This is the part where you take all that shit you’ve broken up into nice little chunks and you turn it into something worth reading. You can do it. I believe in you. Try and keep your citations in place.

I like to do this as a question answer thingy, like an exam, so halfway through writing mine is gonna look like this

 The handy part about the numbers is that it gives you a frame of reference for how your bullshit is going. Realized you had a lot more to say here than you thought? Dope! Less bullshit somewhere else, take it out of a weaker point. This point didn’t give as much as you thought it would? Split the difference elsewhere! This way you have checkpoints and you can see how your essay is going

And then you can go ahead and delete your skeleton work. Its time. Its served you well. For extra drama, whisper menacing nothings to it as you send it into the darkness. Personal favourites include “no one will mourn you,” “your fate belongs to me,” and “so this is what you have come to”

  8.    Citations

Theres like a million ways out there to find out how to do your citations and its gonna depend on what kind of a paper you are writing. I use Chicago most of the time, including here. My advice? Use a site like, bib.me or something to do your bibliography, and then plaster that in the bottom of your document. Use that as the building blocks to do your footnotes. Let Purdue Owl be your guide. Purdue Owl Style Guide Is A Mighty Friend Indeed.

 Also your welcome for that, “putting the page numbers in as you put the info in” shit. That took me alarmingly long to figure out. It’s a wonder theyre giving me a degree.

  9.    Proofread that shit, ya bougie bitch.

If you wanna be time effective, getting a friend to proofread while you do your citations is a great way to go. If you have a few days, put your paper away and come back to it. If you are out of friends and time then https://www.paperrater.com/ is your last hope.

  10.       Slap a title page on that shit and GET IT SUBMITTED

 No joke, I have been using the same template for a coverpage all through highschool and my undergrad. There is only one title page and every time I write an essay I take the title page from the last paper I wrote. There is no beginning. Only title page. Title? Topic of paper: point of paper. For example, If I had to title this screed I’d call it Essay Writing: An exploration of mediocrity. slap the date and your name and the course and instructor on there and BAM. YA DONE.

 Anyway submit that shit an go to bed youre done goodnight

EPILOGUE

I’ve gotten this essay back, and when I wrote it, I was barely a human being. Barely capable of human speech let alone a coherent argument. I would forget the end of the sentence by the time I typed out the beginning. But I still for a 70%! is it the best mark I’ve ever gotten? no! but it is a hell of a lot better than the 0% I would have gotten if i hadnt done this. I get it. And i hope this helps. 

[theplumsoldier]

TRAINING WITH THE COMMANDER

Summary: i slipped this will not* be a series. [updated]

Pairing: yon-rogg x reader

Word count: 1840

Warnings: explicit scenes, vulgar language.

“I hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked!” Your cheery grin rubbed off on your vocals, putting an enthusiastic and playful tone to the words. The jumpy way of walk put a smile on Yon-Rogg’s face in spite of the sleep still in his eyes.

The time was little past five in the morning and you had deemed it time for a session of training. Two nights before, you had encouraged your commander to move your usual bout to the next morning. He, himself, had no plans and figured it was no bother, only when he learned your reason behind, he was displeased your excuse was that you were “going out”. He knew what that meant, although he was not familiar with actually ‘going out’. To you, it meant meeting those you called friends, likely finding a floor to dance on and get what you called “shitfaced” as Yon-Rogg recalled you once saying – your time on planet C-53 had proved a success in more ways than one, as you had brought home an updated vocabulary; splendid mission indeed – and possibly, if Yon-Rogg knew you as well as he believed, find a stranger in the midst of the night.

Now, as you were walking into the hall where few others were up, throwing and evading punches, you felt well-rested and better than ever, your deserved night out resting in the back for your mind, branded as a complete triumph. Of the four things above, three had been done and with much efficiency, albeit you were sad you had not gotten to dance that night due to your hurt foot.

“Feeling bold, are we?” asked Yon-Roog with a weary voice, unable to conceal the smirk tugging his lip upward so he looked the other way. Releasing a yawn, Yon-Rogg shook his grin off his features. He had not slept as good as yourself. “What’s gotten you so glad this morning?”

You gave him a look of an odd concoction of fallacious insult and a subdued joy beneath, as memories replayed in your mind. “What do you mean? I’m always happy.”

“Not this early you’re not,” insisted he and came to a halt, deeming the current spot good as any.

You shrugged your shoulders, setting your feet and cocked an eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter, anyway, what does, however, is that you don’t stand a chance against me.”

He gave you a funny look as if you had put a dent in his pride, affronted. “Is that so,” encouraged he in a playful manner, enjoying the wit he got from your side.

You lifted your hands, tucking in your elbows as you shifted your weight onto your back leg.��“It is.”

Yon-Rogg made a humming sound as if accepting the defeat before the battle had started and before he went were ready to defend, he placed his one foot behind the other and threw the first punch, beginning the session.

“Oh wow, you’re really just jumping right in, huh?” muttered you, blocking punches while stepping backward as your commander launched at you.

And like that, the bout was fully commenced. The punches and kicks were random and out of instinct, any onlooker would have thought, only Yon-Rogg’s fighting technique had patterns like any, and you happened to know them like no one else. After all, since obtaining your position with the Starforce, you had fully committed yourself to learn as much possible and who else could be a better teacher than the well-respected Commander Yon-Rogg.

Eluding an elusive punch to the face, you received one to the gut instead and you elicited a groan.

“Don’t stand a chance, eh?” sneered the opposition and distanced himself, allowing you to catch a breath. Just a single one.

Before you had yourself completely afoot, he stalked balefully towards you. You went to send a spinning and focused kick to his stomach, but when he caught onto your foot, time stopped briefly and he gave you a disappointed look, offering none but a simple “tsk”. Then he twisted it around, your foot leaving the ground for a moment before you collapsed with a loud thud.

You heard him sigh deeply and knowing you had landed a few feet from Yon-Rogg, you allowed yourself to catch your breath and did not move a muscle. The coarse mat underneath you was sticky against your skin and you rolled onto your back, opening your eyes to see Yon-Rogg towering you with great might, his veined arms crossed and a very unimpressed look altering his features as he watched you.

“Now what was all that boasting for? You were getting me excited,” sighed he, holding out a large hand.

With a displeased look and irritated grunt, you reached out for his hand and grabbed him just above the wrist. When Yon-Rogg went to pull you, you pulled him down and kicked his feet out from under him. Landing on his back beside you, you could already feel your heartbeat increase once again, excited by the action and even more when getting on your knee to get on top of him. However, you never got around to that part for as soon as you gained the upper hand, it was taken away from you. Yon-Rogg got a tight hold of your upper arm and swung you right over his chest, having you on your stomach in a matter of seconds, hand twisted behind your back and right where he wanted you.

“Good, but I want you present. Your head is elsewhere,” praised your commander, still holding you down, but not for long, thought you.

With all your strength you managed to slip out of the lock, without doubt, mangling the wrist more than intended and you let out a moan, the pain shooting up your arm. At least you were now on your back, even if the position served you no control, only the glorious look of his focused face. A thin layer of sweaty pearls was spread across his forehead and his eyebrows were knitted together in a frown.

“Now what?” pressured he, holding you in your place on the mat as you searched for an escape. In all honesty, you did not know what to do from here, both the fact that your commander was pinning you to the floor and your surely broken wrist keeping your mind elusive. “Take your time.”

The joyful mood you earlier had been in possession of was about completely wiped from your mind, and to think you had been all so self-assured made you slightly embarrassed. It was no question which of the two of you were the best in combat. In fact, when graduating at the top of your class from the academy thus earning yourself a spot in the Starforce, the very thought of working with all these professionals was exhilarating to you. This exact scenario had not been what you had in mind when the commander approached you about training sessions and yet, with your wrist throbbing and out of ideas, you could not have been happier.

“You didn’t last long at all, eh?”

His remark had you grinning, once again torn from focus and watching his pretty face instead. Doubtlessly, that was his fault and in all honesty, giving it a thought, you were most certain he knew you found him a tad more interesting than what was deemed appropriate.

Then, like the golden flame in his eyes, an idea concocted of all boldness, irrational thought and most important a small glimpse of desire sparked in your mind, your eyes immediately darting to the target. Only did your eyes return to his for a brief moment, but then you planted your lips on his. A soft and sweet and like the sweetest he had tasted in a long time, yet so sinning and forced, unnerving in every way.

It took him impossible control and a slap of sense to not react out of instinct and almost immediately Yon-Rogg got off of you, taking steps back. The creased brows and shocked expression gave away the surprise. It had not been intentional but you lips tugged slightly upward, the conquering grimace you possessed for few moments wavered in no time as you realized what took over the astonishment.

Perplexity as well as anger, disgust even, seemed to take him over.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” barked your commander, his ablaze eyes tearing right through you.

“I,” began you baffled, close to discovering a stammer and tried to find the words making up for what clearly had been a mistake. All you had done was kissing him; no feelings, no whatsoever, a trick. A trick to get him off of you. Barely, but definitely thought out and expected to remove him from you as you had thought he indeed would be taken aback. This was not the kind of stunned Yon-Rogg you had anticipated. In all honesty, it was moderately frightening. “I got out of your grip.”

“And you saw it fit to kiss me then?” bellowed Yon-Rogg, although in the lowest manner as he could manage, his eyes flickering beyond your shoulder, registering there still were other people in the hall.

“I got creative,” answered you with a shrug. You went to cross your arms, figuring the fight had reached its end, only 

Yon-Rogg failed to perceive the entire matter, and how you simply did not seem able to wrap you had around just what he was mad about, exasperated him all the more. “Would you have kissed the rival in such a situation?”

“To save my life? Hell yeah, I would have kissed a Skrull.” You gave him a look as if to ask whether he truly was serious with you. His chest was heaving and his fists were clenched by his sides. Were you really that repulsive?

In his mind, you were far from just that and he did wonder what went through your head as he reacted this way. He never had shown any sense of distaste with all the times you had flirted in those careless ways. Now, displaying clear aversion he could only what you yourself might think. Harsh like such, he had not become from a close to innocent kiss. No, it had been the surprise and pure nerve. For long you had been with him in the Starforce and shared various moments, both intimate and anger-fuelled, and sometimes even in sorrow, although never had he dared imagine what you lips had felt like. Dare in the sense of reluctant to draw in an unprofessional obsession.

Unlocking his jaw, Yon-Rogg breathed out and spared you a final look of something you could not quite place. In his crude voice, he said: “that’s enough for today.”

Marching his own way, you watched as he made his exit known by the heavy door falling back in place. Mind racing, hand throbbing and lips parted, you could only breathe a sigh. Only few hours into the day and you were already ready to head back into the sheets.

[sxlverswan]

Zoro hums in the way that means he's considering something seriously. "Come on, let's give you a taste of somethin' a little more-" Words unfinished he kicks his chair towards one of the combatants in the bar, and smirks as they stumble and trip. Oddly enough, she carries herself in a manner that spoke of familiarity amidst the grime and bawdy yelling in this run down bar. There's a story in that, but he doesn't ask, eye focused on her as he waits to see just what she's gonna do next.

♡ zoro // a good brawl

He drank more than he talked but he was good company, this man Morgan had spent the last hour in its entirety with, joined together by circumstance in an unholy matrimony of alcohol and, as she would soon discover, ignominious fun.

Perhaps it was what he kept to himself, more than what he voiced, that through silent whispering in her ear planted the notion they could get along and made the evening so enjoyable. Seldom did a woman visit a bar to find a man interested enough in her to stay at her side and give birth to a shortish friendship, but not too invested in taking it to the climax of drunken intimacy somewhere during the same night; often a male goal.

It was a breath of fresh air in the grey nowadays, being able to spend time with a man dressed in her own flesh and clothes, without the need for unfeminine camouflage or the congenital worrying over ulterior motives as shared by her fellow women. 

Morgan’s heart felt peaceful in spite of the commotion more inebriated individuals caused with their hammering of fists, clinking of tankards and unbridled outbursts, and a part of it was to blame on this man with minty hair, a swordsman who exuded a sense of certainty and tranquillity just by being. There was safety in that.

Her lips took the edge of the glass in a chaste kiss to take a sip just as mild. The rum burnt her mouth with a sweet aftertaste, like fiercer honey, and continued its destructive path downwards, igniting her whole anatomy. She would not be allowing herself much more of it lest her conscience fade. After all, Morgan was but a visitor to this land of men and diplomacy was easily breakable.

A wise decision she credited herself for when the swordsman mouthed what sounded like an indecent request at first, a suggestion maybe fuelled by his consumption of one too many. 

But before Morgan could show indignation through physical repulse or indeed a voiced complaint, the swordsman sent his chair flying in a premeditated plan to knock down one man in particular. A goal he achieved when the target bumped against the hard floor with a pleasurable thud.

The lady’s companion smirked. And it seemed that she, too, was stumbled for a moment as though hit by a second piece of furniture, for her eyes broadened and her mouth opened to express shock in a perfect ‘o’. He must be senseless, out of his mind, if he sought trouble to relish in. Could the loud evening be yet too quiet for his taste?

And here Morgan was, thinking him proper, a monolith of mindfulness!

In spite of it, she did not take her leave or did so much as tremble in her seat like many a damsel would in the midst of a bar brawl.

For the time being, the swordsman offered no apology for his behaviour in front of a lady — as a gentleman ought to — nor did he explain the reasoning for the aforesaid display of violence. Still and focused, he expected more lively a response.

His gaze read as challenging and slightly wicked.

❝ Oh, very well. ❞ Morgan sighed, proceeding to get up from her chair (never without poise) and grab one of the many bottles the man had previously emptied with expertise.

Morgan wanted to hold no quarrel of her own but knew enough of tavern skirmishes to figure it was not so much about honourable fighting as it was about disorder in its pure state. The land of men made into no man’s land.

With no delay, she hurled the glass bottle against the wall, causing shards and lost drops of booze to rain over two men who had hitherto stood back to back, unacknowledging of each other; but who, now, propelled themselves against the other in a jolly old fight. No dialogue was needed for Morgan to know her interference had not been noticed, only the attack and its likely culprit had.

Chair and bottle were the cast pebbles that would get this sea rippling with violence.

Morgan tried to conceal just how pleased and proud of herself she was when her gaze searched for and locked in the man’s golden eye. But her whole face was beaming with it, her cheeks tinted with the thrill as though it were rouge. 

❝ How is that for starters? ❞ She questioned with defiance before exhibiting two rows of pearly teeth in a white smile and giving out an apologetic shrug.

@autumnswordsman

[itphobia05-blog]

The Nest Thermostat: How It Came About

Some objects are such a part of our everyday lives that however obtrusive they are they go unnoticed. Take your home thermostat for instance; you would hardly say it adds a flurry of fantasy to your home design, would you? Yet, despite various molts since its invention in 1883, the electric thermostat has remained pretty much as ugly as the day it was conceived. Not only that, it has undergone no real innovation for the past three decades in spite of the tech design revolution fuelled by the likes of Steve Jobs.

This is quite astonishing when you consider that these devices control half of our household energy consumption. It is even more surprising when you realize that they are sold in millions every year and that there are a quarter of a billion of them in the US alone. Indeed, the ugly little device has become so much a part of modern life's eyesores that none of the planet's creative minds bothered paying any attention to it, it was just there, like a wart on a toe.

That is, until Tony Fadell, former senior Vice President of the iPod Division at Apple, one day started building his own house. With some research he very quickly realized that this ugly duckling could become something very beautiful. He saw too that a completely new technical approach was needed to make use of new technology that would allow it to learn and adapt to people's heating habits, thus saving them huge amounts of energy.

The idea germinated and in 2010 evolved into Nest Lab, the Palo Alto company founded by Tony Fadell and Matt Rogers, the latter being another disciple of Steve Jobs. What were they up to? What was the secret project they were building? Over the following eighteen months the idea took shape behind closed doors, the Nest next generation thermostat was announced in October 2011. This thermostat is capable of learning your heating habits and work out your schedule thanks to a clever combination of sensors, algorithms and data sent from your home across the webosphere.

The second generation Nest Learning thermostat was launched a year later in autumn 2012 and has rapidly become an Amazon top seller. Indeed the elegant round units are going like hot cookies, so much so that a surge of account connections briefly brought down the company's servers over the following Christmas.

The unsightly thermostat, then, has grown into a beautifully designed home device that blends nicely into your home décor thanks to its steel ring that reflects the surrounding colors. It is easy to install, easy to use and its Wi-Fi connection means it can be updated like any online video game or smart phone application. You can control it remotely with your laptop, smartphone app or tablet, and it helps you save money, on average 20 percent off your energy bill.

nest thermostat installation

Nest Lab will most certainly be hatching more ideas; in the meantime, their cute and smart brainchild will soon be nesting in homes throughout Europe. Indeed, Tony Fadell announced at LeWeb Paris held in December 2012 that they will be shipping first to France and the UK as soon as possible.

[islandpcosjourney]

Hindsight

29th December 2020

3 years ago, after a lovely family Christmas and a crazy few weeks beforehand redecorating the kitchen & dining room, I was enjoying some down-time. Facebook reminded me today that we were removing my fireplace in town – a big job involving big hammers and lots of sweat, on hubby’s part anyway ;) I had also just said goodbye to my Dad for the last time, although I didn’t know that. My final words to him were “Please go see a doctor” as we had noticed that he wasn’t himself while he was with us Christmas week. If I’d known in hindsight that I’d never see or speak to him again, I’d have never let him go. For the last 3 years I’ve punished myself for that. But in all honesty, I’m glad I didn’t know, despite the shock of his untimely passing, as I spent no time trying to cling onto something I wouldn’t have. He was just my Dad, it was just an ordinary Christmas, we were just hammering concrete out of a fireplace, as per usual and it was his time to go.

This year. The year of COVID. The year of cancellations. The year of worry. The year of unknowns. The year of excess screen time. The year of FOOD! This was the year of a fresh start. A chance to really sit down and think, quietly about anything and everything. In a year where our health has been debated so much in the press and in the community, I chose this year to sort it out, head on. Or rather, this was the year that my body chose, to WANT to sort itself out.

Many of you will have read before of the trials and tribulations that my PCOS gives me daily. It’s a vicious circle of physical and mental symptoms caused by external and internal factors. But before this year, although I’d done tons of research and I knew everything I could about my difficulties, I still couldn’t solve them. Something was always stopping me and that was indeed me.

We are what we eat. I truly believe this and always did but mentally I was always being drawn to the wrong foods. I still am, I am human after all but while most people had a kill switch to stop themselves from eating junk, my switch was broken, or so I thought. I understood the theory behind what foods would be good for me but putting it into practice is always the hard part and I’m sure many of you will have faced this before yourselves!

During lockdown, like many others, I was forced online to work. It wasn’t long after that I started noticing daily headaches, getting worse and worse. After a while, it was debilitating, and I was at the point (when in normal circumstances) where I’d have run to the GP for some stronger pills! But this wasn’t really an option this time and it forced me to think alternatively. I was convinced it was screen time to blame so I took a wee break and combined my teaching days/hours to make sure I had a long weekend away from the computer to recover each week. Around the same time, I was also experiencing buzzing in my ears – one Sunday thinking I was going insane hearing somebody strimming in their garden, when of course nobody would do that up here on a Sunday! Kevin definitely thought I’d gone mad and I was certainly believing I was! We figured out it was tinnitus or something similar and deduced I’d just have to ignore it, along-with my headaches. Fast forward to June when I finally decided to move a huge pile of recipe books from the landing upstairs. I can’t remember why they ended up there in the first place but rather than putting them back downstairs again, they’d just sat there in a tall pile for months. It was at this stage that I came across Jason Vale’s Turbo Charge Your Life in 14 Days book. A book I’d had at college and had used to lose weight before my degree’s final recital in 2009. I remembered losing 7lbs in 7 days. I sifted through all the pages and got swept back through memory lane and my tastebuds started to remember the taste of some of the juices. Mmmmmmmm yummy. Especially the Turbo charge smoothie – Pineapple, apple, lime, spinach, cucumber, celery & avocado. The ONLY form of avocado I would eat as I hated its taste but seemed to love its creaminess in a smoothie! Avocado being an essential fat that I KNEW I should be eating with my PCOS…… So, the next shopping trip I decided the buy the ingredients, dig out my juicer and before I knew it, while planning a week away to see my Mum & brother, I also planned a detox! AND it timed in perfectly with Jason’s BIG juice challenge between 6th – 12th July! Perfect, all meant to be.

So now, let’s cut a long story very short. I returned a week later totally rejuvenated, hadn’t eaten a single morsel of chewable food in 8 days and I’d lost 8lbs – here, something was working! I felt amazing, my headaches had gone, my skin was glowing, my teeth were whiter, I had tons of energy and I no longer had any ringing in my ears – all after just one week. Ok, so let’s continue! Nearly 6 months later incorporating juicing into my daily diet and I’m 30lbs down (It was at 33lbs, but Christmas was far too good hahahaha). I’ve set myself a target of 100lbs but the biggest reason for this dietary change is not to lose all the excess weight I’m carrying, although of course that will help, its to always put my health first and live the healthiest life I can. In a year where health has never been more important, I am finally on top of mine. I have finally found a way to control my symptoms and my cravings, naturally. I know it probably all sounds ridiculously obvious, but we are what we eat. My body was consuming junk therefore I was junk – I was overweight, chronically fatigued, had oily/acne skin, excess hair, moody, depressive, stressed, dull, no fun – the list is endless. I will now consume, in an average juicy week: 7 pineapples, 56 apples, 7 limes, 28 celery sticks, 28 asparagus spears, 7 courgettes, 2 bags of spinach, 1.5 bags of kale, 3.5 cucumbers, 3 broccoli stems, a few bananas, massive handfuls of mixed berries, beetroot, 7 pears, 7 avocados. Safe to say I am now bright, bubbly, happy, positive, glowing, full of energy, no back pain or headaches, smooth skin everywhere and best of all, I am reducing my PCOS symptoms massively. I’ve been at this weight before; I remember how I felt at this weight before. My weight has nothing to do with this feeling. The food I am eating is directly responsible. Finally, an answer to all my troubles. I know it sounds obvious but how many of us will turn to medications or look for other factors to blame for our chronic conditions? I did! As soon as I was diagnosed, I continuously went running back to the GP/consultant for more and more pills. One to sort that, one to sort this, another one to counteract the last one etc etc. I KNOW categorically that the medications were intoxicating me and that the fuel I put into my body causes the relevant energy output whether strong or weak. I know that if I wake up in the morning and feel tired, a juice will sort me out, not caffeine. I know that if I’m tired at night it is because of the incorrect fuel I’ve put into my body earlier that day, for whatever reason I decided to consume it. I am seeing a direct long-term result of it all too.

From previous blogs, you will know that I DID NOT have a menstrual cycle without medical intervention. As of Boxing Day this year, that is no longer true. It may have taken since July to regulate my hormones naturally, but it has worked. Obviously, time will tell if I’m going to restore any kind of regularity to it but in all honesty, that’s not a concern right now as I can’t remember having a regular cycle since I was a teenager, so we’re talking around 20 years of hormonal disruption to be reversed and Rome wasn’t built in a day! Interestingly the last “natural” cycle I had after stopping years of medication also appeared on Boxing Day, in 2016 ;) In August this year, I was convinced “mother nature” had come to visit but she only said a very brief hello in a socially distanced way for a day so this time with the COVID restrictions lifted a little she was able to come to stay with gifts of stomach cramps, carb cravings & headaches as a way of getting us reacquainted again. Needless to say, she was made very welcome and I’ve never been happier, especially by hugging a hot water bottle.

Not everything is quite sorted but as you can imagine, its well on track! I now choose my food wisely, looking for naturally wholesome options as is humanly possible and just being more conscious of what I am eating (of course I eat treats ocassionally but I’m doing it consciously). Would you put dirty fuel in a car? Of course not. Would you put dirty oil in during an oil change? Of course not. That’s what I believe medications do to chronic conditions – they throw dirty oil into an already dirty engine. Our cars need servicing each year where they get an oil change, where the filters are cleaned, where essential maintenance is done, so why don’t we do that when we’re chronically sick? Why do we turn to pills to sort a condition we’ve developed rather than look to what we’re fuelling our body with and give it a good clean out? Of course we need medicines for acute conditions but chronic ones can be reversed if we clean out the “filter” and do an “oil change”. I’ve seen tons of documentaries recently where I’ve learned of people curing their Asthma, Eczema, Psoriasis, Diabetes etc I’ve even seen a documentary where cancers have gone into remission for dozens of years through eating raw food alone. I know it’ll sound very “out there” for some people and it would’ve done for me too had I not gone looking for Functional Medicine (using food to heal) research after years of understanding the theory behind it but not finding the right way to put it into practice. But, never in my whole life and in spite of a worldwide Pandemic, have I felt more alive or healthier than I do right now. I may have turned the clock back 3 years on my weight but energy-wise I feel about 15 years younger which is far more important than any number on the bathroom scales.

In hindsight, do I wish that I’d reached these dietary conclusions earlier? Not at all. It wasn’t the right time. In hindsight, I can see that all of the information that I have been armed with over the years, are the tools that have set me up for the success I now have. Like a fine wine, I needed time to breathe, time to mature to become the best I can be. No point in opening it early, you’ll just be disappointed. A good teacher is somebody who’s struggled themselves and I’m a better, stronger person for having had my major struggles. There’s probably many still to come. Life is never boring!

Now that I’ve written this, I logged into Tumblr to copy this blog across and to see when I last posted and to my amazement it was Boxing day last year! I love coincidences of dates & Boxing Day seems to have cropped up a number of times. I said that my goal was to increase my energy levels as I really struggled this time last year. I had said regarding Christmas day:

“I want to be able to, one day, wake up early to make the breakfast, open stocking presents, get dressed inc. make up, cook a Christmas dinner, watch a bit of Christmas TV, play some board games, do the washing up and still feel like a proper woman – not some shadow of one who can only do one or two tasks a day.”

Well I did all those things! I’d totally forgotten that I’d even set that goal (for one day!) but I reached it a year later and more. I never thought I’d be sizes smaller than a previous year as my pattern has always been to be one size bigger each year ;) I recently ordered a few jumpers for the harsh winter, one a size 16-18 and one a size 14 for the future. Well, although a stretchy material, I’m in the size 14 jumper and had to send back the other as it just hung off me! Considering I was a size 20 last year, ballooned to a size 22 by the middle of the year and now I’m back to the size I was 3 years ago, I’m delighted. I also don’t get the violently ill episodes when I eat gluten/dairy now that I did before when I religiously followed a PCOS diet and ocassionally slipped up. I honestly think fruit & veg is healing my gut, my hormones, my skin, every organ in my body! There’s a lot to say for eating a plant-based diet, not only for my health but also the purse-strings but there’s also lots to say for eating balanced nutrition and listening to one’s body for what it really needs. My ears are wide open now.

[fraink5-writes]

Human Qualification- Chapter 6

August 17

Chapter 6 has arrived! This is the last of the introductions, please enjoy!

Once again, thanks to @missmizpah​ @gracieuxetoile​ and @deathly-oreos​ for reading it over!

Summary: To slowly lose all your functions until you are nothing but a trapped mind in a deteriorated shell, that’s what it means to be ‘No Longer Human.’

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

The office, small yet nevertheless imposing, silenced Chuuya. No light passed beyond the green, windowless walls, creating a black inescapable aura. Even with the guards by the door gone, the room was a trap. The confinement stripped anyone who entered of any power. Thus, Chuuya stood unmoving in the center of the office at the mercy of the red throne.

“Good afternoon, Chuuya-kun.” The man at the desk smiled, immune to the atmosphere.

“Boss,” Chuuya spoke curtly.

“Hmm, you seem very tense today—different than when you’re with Dazai-kun.”

The tension was inevitable. Chuuya had rarely visited Mori’s office, and during those rare visits, Dazai was usually there. Being invited alone could have had a variety of outcomes—interrogation, torture, execution—Chuuya’s mind didn’t hesitate running through the possibilities. And so, the invitation was more threatening than welcoming.

“I’ve called you here to share a mixture of good and bad news.” Mori’s eyes darkened upon the mention of the bad news. Without moving, Chuuya braced himself. The mafia boss continued without hesitation nor sympathy, “As it usually goes, the bad news first. Your partner, Dazai-kun, is going to die soon.”

“Yes, I know that, Boss.” Chuuya blurted.

“Oh?” Mori’s smirk reflected a cruel curiosity.

“He told me.”

“Interesting.” Mori made a note at his desk. “What else did he tell you, Chuuya-kun?”

Face-to-face with the boss of the Port Mafia, the man in charge of Chuuya’s life, Dazai’s privacy meant nothing. “He said that he has only a year or so left. And that it’s a downside to his ability. That’s all. As for his current condition, I learned that from working with him.”

“I see. It’s quite a shame for this to occur so early. I was hoping to use him longer.”

“Yeah...” Chuuya grumbled.

“You don’t seem to agree, Chuuya-kun?”

Under Mori’s gaze, Chuuya’s whole skeleton rattled. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that he’s become so useless while fighting.”

The mafia boss let out a laugh, and the tension momentarily dissipated. “Is that so? Regardless, I intend to maximize his utility, so you’re going to have to compensate for his weakness a little longer. You can do this, I assume?”

“Of course, Boss.”

“Excellent. We can’t have one of the smartest brains in the Mafia dying prematurely.”

In Mori’s organization, all lives were expendable—some more than others. Chuuya suspected his own was higher up on that list than those of his colleagues.

“No, Boss.”

“Well, Chuuya-kun, there is some good news for you.” Mori’s eyes glinted brighter than the lamps behind him. “After Dazai dies, he is going to need to be replaced. If you continue serving the Mafia favorably, you could be the next executive. This is a great opportunity for you.”

He could be a mafia executive? Those were the words Chuuya had always wanted to hear, yet they left a bitter taste. In front of the mafia boss, Chuuya had to stomach it, concealing any signs of displeasure. “Thank you, Boss.”

“I haven’t done anything yet. Now, I believe we’ve covered all the intended points of this meeting.”

Chuuya turned to leave before Mori added one more comment, “Chuuya-kun, make sure Dazai-kun stays in the game as long as possible!”

“Of course, Boss.”

Having escaped Mori’s domain, he  stomped his foot into the ground, nearly cracking the flooring. The callous tone of the boss’s words (“he is going to need to be replaced”) prodded his mind like a poker in a flame, looking for a reaction. He noticed his fists tense, his heart rate accelerate, and his breaths deepen as though he was prepping for a fight.

But there was no one to fight. Certainly not Mori. If anyone, Chuuya should’ve punched himself. He was a fool, getting so worked up. He finally was given the chance he had been working for his entire career, and his first response was to be angry. To be a mafia executive was the ultimate display of loyalty, yet when the position was in his reach, his reaction was to spite the organization’s very leader. Indeed, he was a sentimental fool.

Without a clear reason, Chuuya found himself heading to Dazai’s apartment. Perhaps he thought his partner should know what would happen after his death. Yet, when he arrived, he lost all courage to mention it. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door as he scrambled to find the purpose of his visit.

“Hello!” Dazai chimed as he opened the door. “...Chuuya?”

“Hi.”

Dazai examined Chuuya quizzically. “...What brings you here?”

I don’t know myself. Chuuya shoved that thought to the side and blurted out the first reason which came to mind. “I want to train you!” ...What?

“...What?” Dazai laughed. “What are you talking about, Chuuya?”

“I, I, uhh, I thought, even though you’re… like this, maybe if I trained you, you could preserve your strength.”

That was why Chuuya was there. It wasn’t because Mori told him to keep Dazai alive—it was out of spite. He wouldn’t easily accept that Dazai would die and be replaced.

“Pfft! That’s ridiculous! It’s too late.”

“It doesn’t have to be ‘too late!’”

“Chuuya,” Dazai’s tone dropped suddenly. “If there was something that could be done, I would have done it. But there’s nothing. Nothing I can do, and, certainly, nothing you can do.”

Dazai’s resignation only fuelled Chuuya’s indignation. He gritted his teeth, although he had no response. He was ready to beat some sense into his partner, but his anger was cut short.

“Why are you so angry, Chuuya? Isn’t this hitting two birds with one stone?”

“What?”

“After I die, you can become an executive, right? Aren’t those the two things you wanted?”

“How did you know that?”

“You just spoke to Mori, didn’t you? I haven’t became an idiot, you know.”

Dazai spoke as though he understood Chuuya better than Chuuya himself. He could see right through the redhead and easily identify the thoughts Chuuya couldn’t even place. Yet this indignity made Chuuya all the more determined to prove his partner wrong. There was a part of Chuuya that Dazai didn’t, and wouldn’t, understand.

“That’s not what I want. I don’t want to become an executive because of some cheap trick! It will only bring me disgrace to take advantage of a dying man!”

Once again, Dazai’s laugh mocked Chuuya. “Take advantage of me? Like you could ever do that! My death is inevitable. I couldn’t care less about what happens after. What concerns would my ashes have with the future of the Port Mafia? Besides, Chuuya, you probably deserve the position.”

“What?” Chuuya’s face was set ablaze by various forms of embarrassment.

“You’re my partner. I know all about your skills, hard work, and loyalty.” Saying those words, Dazai’s smile seemed most sincere. “Of course, I know all of your flaws too~!”

“ASSHOLE!” Chuuya launched from the ground towards Dazai’s throat.

“Now that would be taking advantage of a dying man.” Dazai was nonchalant despite Chuuya seething at his throat.

“Fucker,” Chuuya spat, stepping away from strangling his partner. “Why’d I even come here...”

“Good question.”

Dazai’s grin tempted Chuuya to punch it, but he resisted. “You can die tomorrow for all I care!”

“I’m trying!” Dazai waved as Chuuya stomped off.

Yet again, Chuuya felt ridiculous. As he thundered away, he chastised himself. He really cared about certain things—certain people—more than he should have.

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