#no self inserts we fuck that boy ourselves like men

[soullessjack]

im high quick drop the selfshipshitpost and run

[azulas-daddy-kink]

I know dunking on Zutarians is fun and all, but can we please talk about Tyzulaians? Cause they are almost as delusional, if not more than, Zutarians. Maybe they might have been friends when they were kids, but all of Ty Lee's interactions with Azula in the show are clearly that of someone deathly afraid of their superior snapping, and therefore kissing ass much as possible. For fucks sake, the advice Ty Lee gives to Azula during that Ember Island party in regards to getting boys is what she uses to placate her. And even though basically every single piece of post-Sozin's Comet media has all but said that she loathes Azula to the point that she eventually overcame her fear of her so she could hunt her down, Tyzulaians still cling to their ship.

And have you seen the ridiculous handwaving they do in regards to Azula's dream world showing her have a male love interest? I've even seen edits on TikTok where they blurred out Ruon-Jian.

Also, just like Zutarians like to call anyone who disagrees with their ship racist and sexist, among other things, Tyzulaians call anyone who disagrees with their ship lesbophobic, even if the person doing the criticism are queer themselves.

I know that Zutarians have engaged in mass delusion ever since Korra made their ship explicitly fanon, but I really wonder what is going to happen once we get hard confirmation that neither Ty Lee or Azula are queer, or if or both them are, Tyzula is not thing on one or both of their parts? Especially in regards to Azula stans that are also hard-core Tyzula shippers considering the current comics writer got death threats by a crazed Azula stan that made her wary of writing a comic involving Azula for quite sometime?

Yes, please, Anon!

I am always down to call out the toxic Tyzula shippers, and have done so on this blog several times.

I've seen everything you're talking about more times than I can count. The lesbophobia accusations, the copium, and essentially gaslighting themselves into believing their ship is/was canon and that Azula is 100% a lesbian.

Just today, I witnessed them claiming that SOKKLA is a self-insert ship beloved by men who identify with Sokka. Probably the worst case of projection I've ever encountered in this fandom, considering Tyzula shippers are pretty much all just baby gays self-inserting as either Azula or Ty Lee (usually Ty Lee). From what I've seen, Sokkla shippers are mostly women so we're definitely not inserting ourselves as Sokka lol nonsensical.

"Just write a self-insert, you cowards!" - decries a discord user named "Azula kisses women". Absolute clown shoes.

Their favorite thing to do though, aside from going out of their way to bully people who like other ships, is deny canon by saying Azula's interest in Chan was "comphet". Yes, comphet is a real thing but can we be honest with ourselves and say that was not the intent of the writers? No one was gay in a 2005 children's cartoon. And even if Chan was comphet, where does the supposed interest in women come in? If anything, this is an argument for her being asexual or aromantic, because Azula has never shown romantic interest of any kind toward another girl.

But when you criticize this and point out the obvious flaws, they again just say you're lesbophobic, which is their go-to when someone doesn't agree with them.

Honestly, at this point they are just as bad as Zutara shippers, if not worse. And you know why they're acting this way? They're losing and they know it. Sokkla grows stronger by the day, has the best fics and art, and a thriving, supportive community. They're lashing out because they feel threatened... which is actually insane, considering neither ship is canon, and shipping isn't a contest. It's supposed to be fun! Tyzula shippers are straight up ruining the Azula fandom with their toxicity.

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

soooo shhhh this actually a part one shhhh but i’m just trying out writing out different things and getting out some of my ideas outta my head that i’m really excited about, this one being one of them!! for now...just pretend that this is just a regular ol’ drabble hehehehe. this part is the set-up chapter (shhh i mean drabble) 

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst 

Tags: (overall) bodyguard au, moderndayprince!chan, bodyguard!reader, secret agent au, royal au, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, softswitch!chan, hardswitch!reader, some skz side characters, jeongin third wheel and comedic relief LOL, travelling, chan being expensive and having a lil bit of a superiority complex, flirtyyyy chan, bits of mystery, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, idk think like 007 vibes hehe 

CWs: guns and gun violence, a shooting in a ballroom, mentions of blood 

Word count: 4.6k 

Parts

ONE | TWO 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here early.” 

“Well, expect the unexpected.” 

“Don’t turn the motto back at me. I’m sick of hearing it so many damn times.” 

“What? You and I both know that it’s true. You’re here early too, so, technically you don’t get to say anything.” 

Jeongin straightened his bow tie, then patted down the sides of his perfectly ironed tux with not a crinkle to be found. Knowing him, it was a miracle that he hadn’t messed it up in some form yet. He promptly took out his pocket square to clean off his glasses. 

“You’re looking nice. Seems like they don’t mind spending money now on you these days.” He blew off the flecks of dust on his lenses. 

“They know that they get their return on their investment. And thank you.” 

You smoothed down the sides of your dusty pink dress that nearly went all the way down to your ankles. Had you any other choice, it would’ve been something different, but, dresses were really good at hiding your thigh holster compared to the slacks you usually favored. You didn’t mind the times that you would have to put on a pretty dress, it somewhat reminded you that there was normal life outside of your job. Not to mention, they had started sending you jewelry as well. You always had liked the look of a diamond necklace. 

“You do your research for tonight?” 

Jeongin nodded, then took from his pocket his phone to read over the details. 

“I’ve done a background check on everyone attending, we shouldn’t have any issues. It’s already a low risk event anyway. Charity is never something to get too worked up over, but, you never know with the detail that some of these people come with...who they might be tied to...” 

“--The only people we can trust is ourselves.” You nodded with arms crossed. 

“Expect the unexpected, I know.” He slid his phone back into his inside suit pocket to adjust his cufflinks. 

“--Nervous?” You took note of his fidgeting actions. 

“Nervous? No. I’ve been through this before. You know that.” 

You flicked your partner right on his forehead strung with his white hair. You had really wished that he had picked a less conspicuous color, but he had strings to pull that you didn’t. 

Jeongin cleared his throat, “You do your once over?” 

“Do you even need to ask? I did it hours ago and when we arrived. You know that I’ve done this before too.” 

“I know. I know.” 

Jeongin looked out at the vast circular atrium that made up the center of the hotel. Several stories down under the glass rooftop, you could hear the faint sprinkling of the intricate fountain which smelled of copper. A bit further down, you could see the tips of the tree branches from the indoor landscaping. Across the way, a door slammed with residents tucking in their ties. The two men you had recognized from the roster: a simple thing which made you feel at ease. Your young partner must’ve started to have an effect on you. A sense of unease seemed to quell in your neck. You always listened to your hunches. 

“W-what do you think he thinks of us?” Jeongin broke the silence. 

“Well,” From inside the room you had waited outside, you could hear his distant murmuring, so you lowered your tone. “I think that he has yet to trust us. It’s only been a few weeks. He doesn’t seem like the kind to give himself up easy. That, and I’m sure his resentment of his father must have some influence.” 

“You think he hates us?” 

“I think he hates his father for hiring us. I mean, wouldn’t you? His old security detail, he had them for years.” 

“I guess so. But, we’re not like his old detail.” 

“No. We’re not. I don’t think he gets that yet. I think he sees us as one more way his father has a hold on him.” 

“It’s not like he can do much else about it when his dad’s a kin--” 

“--No, no, thank you, really, it’s lovely. Some of your best work. Thank you.” 

Chan swung open the door to his room, stopping Jeongin right in his sentence. 

“Ah. You’re here already. That’s...punctual.” 

As dazzling and showy as ever, Chan looking nothing short of a magazine model. For a prince, he had certain...appearances that he had to maintain. Today, it was a velvety and maroon suit jacket with a white button up. On the collar, two matching brooches had been perfectly placed, and they were silver like moonlight in the shape of English ivy and adorned with diamonds. On his lapel, he wore the royal insignia of the lion and the wolf. Behind him, you could see his slew of stylists cleaning up their makeup kits and obscene assortment of designer dress shoes for him to pick from. You had thought before that he even smelled like royalty: stuffy white roses with a hint of priceless cognac. 

Jeongin bowed his head respectfully. “Everything has been prepared for tonight. The rest of your guards are surrounding the building, and I’ll be corresponding with them as needed, your Highness.” He tapped at his earpiece. 

Chan drew his attention over to you, giving you a rather lusty glare. Over the past couple weeks, you had gotten used to it. He was a prince to every extent of the word. If there was anything that he had wanted, he simply had to ask. It drove him insane that all he could do was merely look at you. You had  wondered if he harbored anything else for you besides the way that he would devour the curves of your shoulders and hips. 

“Fox. Bee. You look nice tonight. I like seeing you dressed up. Makes me feel less out of place.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a little sound of discontentment over his rather affectionate nickname for you. You and your partner had been introduced to him as F and B. Quickly he had figured out Jeongin’s codename as Fox, considering that he had done a poor job picking out one that wasn’t related to him at all. Anyone could tell that boy was fox-like, and he also just wasn’t that creative when it came to picking out a name for himself. B, or Bee as he had decided, was your name; as in bumblebee. After learning about Fox, he figured that there was an animal theme going, so Bee seemed to fit best in his oponion. 

You tested his glare with your best, “Thank you, your Highness.” 

Jeongin gulped. “Your assistant should be waiting downstairs with your itinerary. She told me that you should meet her first off.” 

“You work too hard F. Have some fun tonight, hm? But don’t...drink too much. You’re responsible for my life remember?” Chan clapped his bodyguard on the back. 

Your partner nervously laughed and adjusted his glasses once more: his preferred tic. 

“And Bee?” Chan rose a brow to lean into close and whisper. “Stay close, alright?” 

“Of course, your Highness.” 

Chan let out a little scoff after getting one more proper look at your frame. “Damn. You really are stunning. Just a little too dangerous for me though.” 

You rolled your eyes, dishing him outa, “Whatever you say, your Highness.” 

Jeongin threw you and annoyed glare before tracing after Chan as he sauntered down the hall to the glass elevator. 

“Bee? You coming? Or do you have something better to do?” Chan’s voice called down the hall with an echo and a little teasing gesture of his hand. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It had been seven years since you had chosen this line of work, and each time that you had to go to one of these things, you hated them more and more. Not because they were hard to control--they were easy--but you just hated how many superficial and self-absorbed people that they could fit into one room. 

The air was filled with the scent of champagne bubbles and too much Chanel No. 5. From corner to corner of the room, and even next to the ice sculpture of the lion and the wolf crest, silk, satin; velvet and the best cotton could be found. Long gloves covered the arms of ladies with wrinkling skin, and tweed vests held in the guts of men who indulged in their food just as much as their mistresses. All this effort just to appear as if they had given one care about the philanthropic efforts of the royalty.

Several neatly dressed waiters passed you with golden platters of hors d'oeuvres made of ingredients so expensive, they would’ve cost the same amount as the generous donations made by the attendees. If you could’ve, you would’ve scooped up as many of them as you could, just to eat all of their copious amounts of money yourself, but, there was somewhere a rule that you had to keep your hand to yourself when you were on duty. The best that you had to look forward too was take-out to eat at 3 in the morning with Jeongin later. 

Buzzing chatter filled your earpiece while each of the additional guards gave their hourly report. 

“Damn. It’s fucking colder out here than I thought. It’s fucking summer.” One of them joked to the tune of the other guards laughter. 

“Stay focused.” Jeongin scolded over the line. “Don’t leave your posts until your shifts change.” 

While he was a timid man, Jeongin was not one to mess around. Son of the director, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. After pleading for years for her to admit him into the academy, she had agreed. Everyone knew the reason why she didn’t want him in this line of work. Too many dead. Too many missing. In some ways, he was also yours to look after. 

You trailed after Chan who was busy talking to his assistant and his publicist. While he nodded at their words, you knew that he must’ve been barely listening. Chan never really was one for formality, but much rather enjoyed simplicity and pleasure. Jeongin and you had somewhat of a bet going: out of all the guests, you had liked to bet which one he would take with him to his bedroom. Since you had all the profiles of the guests, you liked to bet a little money on which one it would be. 

Jeongin had guessed it to be the heiress and daughter of a tycoon who had made a multi-million won donation in the name of his company. It was ironic; his very company was a big-scale pollutor who liked to make nice with the crown. She was conventionally very pretty: long legs, a thin frame, she was educated and looked as if she could hold somewhat of a conversation...not like that mattered to him. 

You had predicted it to be the foreign CEO who had just started business dealings with the crown. While she might’ve looked a bit stuck-up and prim, she was intimidating, and a challenge. Chan loved challenges. Chan also had a pension for pretty boys with a bit too much money on their hands--usually inherited--and with nothing much else to do other than dote on him. There were plenty of those attending the gala tonight. 

Chan snaked through the crowd, bowing his head at all of the Good evening, your Highnesses and the It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses. Every few moments or so he would take a bite from a golden plate and then pop it into his mouth. The whole night long, he would hold his glass with him and it would get refilled for him without him even needing to ask. You sometimes liked to pretend that in some places, they must’ve assigned someone to watch him from afar to make sure that he would never need anything before it was given to him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“Having fun Bee?” Chan languidly rolled his head back, swirling his glass. 

“As much fun as you are.” You quipped. 

“Anything that I should be concerned about?” 

“Nothing of concern.” You stated matter-of-factly. Had you matched his flirting tone, you knew that you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night. “Fox. Report?” 

“Nothing that I can see. No one has been tagging you.” Jeongin had staked himself up on the upper balcony of the banquet hall room, and had been watching for as long as you had been following after the prince. “You sensing anything strange?” His voice tickled in your in-ear. 

“Just a bunch of the normal crowd.” You kept your tone down low. “He’s rubbing noses with the usual. You’ve seen too?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

You followed Chan to his seat nearest the front of the room which had been fashioned into a stage with a clear glass podium in the center. Right in front there was one more crest decorating it. Chan had ensured it to be so: he had wanted everyone to know that this was all for his charity. 

“It seems like our bets aren’t working out. He hasn’t talked to either of the...suspects.” Your partner changed his choice of words knowing that the other guards were listening. 

From the opposite side of the room both the heiress and the CEO stood with thin glasses of wine in their lithe hands. Chan had in fact walked right past them, and didn’t even notice. 

“Tonight is going to be a long night.” Jeongin sighed over the line. 

You politely pushed past attendees with a raised hand and a sweet smile. You had found that when you smiled, you had appeared less intimidating. 

“Oh wait...what’s this?” 

“What?” You whipped your head around after Jeongin’s interjection. “What? Do you see something? What’s the call?” 

“Relax! It just looks like he’s approaching someone he wants to talk to. I think both of us are about to be proven wrong.” 

“Ah, shit.” You sighed. “Don’t put me on edge like that.” 

“I’m only trying to entertain myself.” 

“Name. Who is it? You’ve got the roster.” 

You partner was quiet for a minute, and you watched from a distance as Chan approached the man leaned over a martini seated at one of the perfectly decorated tables. 

“Uh, I think that he’s Lee Minho. Some kind of royalty from somewhere else. Pretty low ranking from the looks of it. I think that he made a donation himself...and it’s...damn, larger than you would expect.” 

“Should we be concerned?” 

“No. Seems harmless.” 

“Thank you for coming,” You made out the words that Chan had mouthed. He drew a chair next to the unknown man. 

From what you could tell, Lee Minho was handsome to the full extent of the word: nearly all of his physical features were exemplary and his suit appeared to have been fitted to perfect for him; likely one of a kind. He too wore an insignia on his lapel, but it was one that you hadn’t recognized before. He had immaculately styled hair that had some kind of rebellious and boyish charm to it. The man had a kind of mystery about him too: you had been able to pride yourself in being able to read people, and it had saved your life on more than one occasion. But with him, there was something that you couldn’t place. 

“Do they know eachother?” You asked Jeongin. 

“Not that I know of. School friend maybe? Seems like all the royals send their kids to the same schools.”

“Hm. That would make sense.” 

“Enjoying yourself?” Chan said. 

Lee Minho nodded, and rose his glass to clink it with the prince’s. 

“Do we think that he’s our...suspect?” 

The stranger dipped his head into his hand as he listened to Chan speak. A flirty gesture that you had seen a hundred times or more. Still, the way that he inspected Chan, it wasn’t adoring. Or at least, you didn’t think that it was.

“No. I don’t think so.” 

“What the hell are you yapping about?” One of the other guards snapped over the line. 

“Um, classified stuff.” Jeongin quickly explained. “Above your paygrade. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Fox. Watch out for him tonight.” You snuck over to a corner of the room where you could watch the two of them more discreetly. 

“Affirmative....” Your partner paused. “Babydoll.” 

“Pffff--Babydoll??” The same guard stifled his laughter. “You call her Babydoll, Fox? Damn, you all must be closer than I thought. Didn’t know that I was missing out on some of the action--” 

“--Ever heard of a codename, Three?” 

“Babydoll’s her codename.” 

A grin crept over your lips. “Expect the unexpected.” 

You had almost gotten distracted enough to miss how Lee Minho had leaned over to whisper something into the prince’s ear. After he had done so, Chan laughed out a little, then reached his arm around the other man’s chair comfortably. 

“They’re...cozy.” You updated your partner. 

“I’m trying to cross-check where he might know him from.” 

Chan’s assistant and publicist finally slipped away with giddy little smiles. In many ways, you were jealous of them. They could leave whenever the wanted, eat what they wanted...

Jeongin scoffed. “Well, turns out...nothing. I can’t find anything.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Negative. I’m not seeing any crossover.” 

“So they really are strangers?” 

Your partner sighed. “Looks like neither of us are cashing ou--I mean--finding the suspect.” 

Under your breath, you wondered aloud, “Who are you...Lee Minho?” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The night drew on longer with the rest of the formalities: the formal dinner, followed by several speeches from important people while dessert was being served. It all led up to the final act: His Royal Highness, Prince Chan’s speech. On several neat notecards marked with the crest, he held them in front of him while he ate his last bits of Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. Even the name of the sweet itself sounded pretentious. Granted, it smelled delicious--as many expensive things did. 

You stifled a yawn from your little set up on the edge of the room. At least you should’ve been able to sit, but it turns out that sitting is also against the rules in this line of work. A couple other security and bodyguards had joined you at the edge: some of their heads nodded with sleep, and the others looked as if they had taken one too many energy shots. Luckily, your stamina had been well crafted. 

A fancily dressed MC made his way up to the podium and the room filled with applause after the last speaker had said all of their correct mandatory words. 

“It is my honor to introduce to the stage, our wonderful head benefactor of this organization, His Royal Highness, Prince Chan of the Crown. 

Applause tenfold of before erupted through the whole room and it wasn’t even an afterthought for the every attendee to stand up from their seats in an ovation. It was a force of habit for you, but you found yourself clapping as well. 

Chan rose with grace, and re-buttoned his jacket with finesse. A blinding spotlight found him and it made the diamonds adorning his beck wink brilliantly. Even more blinding was his pearl white, and perfectly trained smile accompanied by his wave. 

Thank you. Thank you. He mouthed. 

“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star.” Jeongin groaned. 

“Might as well be with the way that they treat him. You know deep down they’re all just terrified.” 

Chan made his way up to the stage in all of his regality, and the applause didn’t stop until he cleared his throat. A collective groaning of a couple hundred chairs squeaked when everyone sat back down. 

“Thank you everyone, really. I wanted to thank you all for your generous support in your donations to this organization, as well as your association with the crown. I’m sure that all the beneficiaries of your donations are beyond thankful compared to me. Without you, this would not be possible.” Chan spoke with grandiose gestures, as usual, but this time, he had found you on the side of the room. “Listen, aside from being a prince, I’m also just a person. A person who knows what it means to struggle, to--” 

“--I can’t listen to this anymore.” You whispered into the quiet room, and to your partner. 

“Just a few more hours.” He droned. “I almost wish that something would happen so that we don’t have to sit though much else of this.” 

“Be careful what you wish for.” 

In the corner of your eye, Lee Minho shifted in his seat, but still kept his undivided attention to the stage. You figured he must’ve been just like the rest of them: enamored by the flashiness of the crown--and Chan. He had a way of putting a spell on people: it was the kind of spell that a prince of deception had crafted after years of being kept under lock and key. 

“--Anyway, what I’m trying to say, royal or fanciful we all might be, in the simplest way, we’re all just people, therefore this is what connects us all. Thank you.” 

Chan was gifted yet another standing ovation that was somehow even more thunderous than before. 

“Yeah right.” You scoffed. “People born into money. There’s a difference.” 

Chan gave his last waves, then a clamor echoed from the back of the room. At first, it had just sounded like the same raucous laughter you had heard all night, but then it shifted to something different. The sound of laugher turned into shouting, then screams: high pitched and piercing. You had seconds to respond, head whipping around the room to catch sight of the confused prince. In your in-ears, the the sound of gunshots echoed with rapid-fire speed. Machine guns. Shouting commands barked in your ear, and muddled with Jeongin’s string of demands and questions. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? REPORT! REPORT!” 

Your heart instantly started beating into hyperdrive, and your legs sprinted as fast has physically possible 

“THEY’VE GOT GUNS!” A shrill and cracked voice of an older woman wailed from the back of the room. 

Immediately after she had said so, shots fired into the darkened room with sparks, and the metallic sound of bullets hitting the marbled ground followed. 

Chan looked around in his panic for you, petrified on the stage. You slung your gun out from your thigh holster and latched onto him with all of your might. 

“TH-THEY JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE IN THESE VANS. THEY’RE ARMOURED, WE CAN’T--” 

“Get the fuck down there and secure the exists!” Jeongin growled into his mic. “B--is the prince secure??” 

“Secure!” You yelled back. Using your body as a barrier, you led the cowering prince through the mass hysteria of the crowd. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Chan shook under your iron grip. 

More shots fired into the room and bodies parted like the sea and fell over each other. 

From the balcony, you had caught Jeongin aiming his own gun at the chaos below. 

“I’ll cover you! Fuck! There’s so many of them! Get him to the car out back--Three, Six, meet B out there! Three!? Six!? Report!” 

“Three and Six are down F!” One of the guards panted. “I can provide cover out back!!” 

“Who’s speaking??” Jeongin bellowed, then aimed from above at one of the intruders. Your only focus was on weaving you and Chan out of there, but you had seen one of them in a blur. Each of the men with guns wore dark grey suits with black ties and leather gloves. Each of them wore their own crest: and it was all red. 

“Bee?? Bee???” Chan shouted out for you, and jumped every time the crack of a shot echoed in the ballroom. 

“I’ve got you, your Highness. We’ll be out soon. Keep your head down and listen to me.” Your arm held to him tightly, and you soon found the exit nearest. There was no telling if there would be more of them outside, but you loaded your gun quickly just in case, and pointed it out. 

“Jeongin, get your ass down here!” 

“Jeongin? Who the fuck is that??” Chan ducked down to hide himself behind your frame. 

His name had slipped on your tongue, but that hardly mattered. 

“I’ll be down in a second!!!” 

“Don’t fucking waste time up there when I need you down here!!” 

“Two! Two Reporting!!” A man suddenly yelled in your in-ear. “I’ve made it out back and I’ve secured the exit. The car is safe!!” 

“FOX! Now!” 

Your partner heaved, “I’m coming, I’m coming!!” 

You kicked open the exit door, gun’s still blazing, however one one else could be found on the other side. 

“Thank God,” You sighed. 

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Chan had turned paler than white, then stumbled in your arms. 

“Hey, HEY!” You held him upright. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You need to trust me. Your life is in my hands and I’m not giving it up easy, got it?” 

“O-okay.” He stammered, then attempted to straighten himself. 

“The Prince is outside, repeat, The Prince is outside. Two, are you in position?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am.” 

Other than the fact that you had just escaped absolute peril, the evening was unbearably pleasant. Crickets chirped in the summer evening, and the humidity of the night smelled gorgeously of the lake that was near-by as well as the vast array of flowers that had been purposefully landscaped around the hotel. Chan’s uneven steps scraped at the gravel walkway. 

Since you had canvassed the whole building well, you had known exactly where the getaway car was, but you were still careful. 

“Bee. Bee!” Chan blabbered. “Have-have I told you yet that I-I’m in love with you?” 

“No, you haven’t Your Highness.” 

“I fucking am. If I die tonight, I want you to know that I am ridiculously in love with you, and fuck, I wanna--” 

“--I’m sorry, Your Highness, respectfully, but now is not the time for this and you are not dying on my watch.” 

Somewhere off in the distance, frogs croaked, and the splashing of fish in the lake plopped at the surface waters. You turned a corner to finally see Two waiting his his gun raised. He was a bit of a shorter and scrawnier man, but something about him told you that where he lacked in strength, he must’ve made up for in agility. 

“I’m out! I’m out!” Your partner gasped, and over the in-ear you could hear his running footsteps. “I’m almost there! I’ll be there in a second!” 

“Your Highness,” Two bowed and opened the car door. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You can call me Two or J. Either you prefer.” 

Jeongin came bounding around the corner with heaving breaths and his clothes askew. His glasses which just barely held onto his face had a crack on them and his knuckles were covered in blood. 

“Let’s go.” The younger man prompted. 

“In the car you go, Your Highness.” You motioned for him to do so. 

Chan whimpered like a toddler. 

You shoved his body in, “Stop that. Get in the car.” 

“I’m in love with you Bee!” He yelled out, “I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU BEE!” 

Jeongin slammed the door in his face with a bit of a chuckle. 

“He’s delirious.” 

“Mm.” your partner smiled. “Sure.” 

[posthumus]

hullo boys, today i’m writing about my thoughts on the Dickie incident in Maurice. (potential content warning for sexual assault and pedophilia — if you’ve read the book, though, it won’t get more graphic than that)

i’ve actually always appreciated the Dickie scene, controversial though it is. i first read the book when i was fifteen — the same age as Dickie himself, iirc (EDIT: I did not, in fact, recall correctly; see here) — and i feel like i got it instantly: to me, it serves to highlight the extremely fucked-up attitudes towards sex society helps to internalize. that said, your mileage may vary on how much discomfort you’re able to withstand, and i think it’s completely fair to feel that the incident makes Maurice — the character and/or the book — irredeemable. i’m able to forgive a lot of the more problematic elements of Maurice because i think they’re adequately criticized in the text (at one point Forster literally calls Clive and Maurice misogynists). however, i don’t blame anyone for feeling uncomfortable with them. mostly, i’m trying to explain why i personally like the function of Dickie within the story, and why i think the whole episode requires a nuanced approach. 

first up: i’ve seen the whole Dickie thing’s presentation interpreted as completely uncritical, which i think is pretty misinformed. i’ll certainly admit that at the start of the chapter, it’s quite ambiguous as to which way the novel will frame Maurice’s feelings. it’s extremely uncomfortable to read, especially in a modern context: there’s an element of suspense as you try to guess whether or not an author of this time period would have endorsed sexual assault. but the catharsis comes at the end of the next chapter, when the horror of the whole situation snaps into sharp focus: “was it conceivable that on sunday last he had nearly assaulted a boy?” for the previous chapter, Maurice had been kidding himself about the whole thing, and it doesn’t seem quite as rapey as it actually is; but then we’re thrown the word assault, and it becomes clear that we are, in fact, meant to understand that this was a horrible thing to even think of doing. 

in my opinion, the book in no way endorses Maurice's thoughts — i actually think that, for his time, Forster was taking a pretty noble stance. the introduction to my copy of Maurice, by David Leavitt, includes a quote from Lytton Strachey, who wrote to Forster, “you apparently regard the Dickie incident with grave disapproval. why?” like, pederasty was still celebrated amongst a lot of gay men at the time. the fact that the Dickie thing reads so uncomfortably at all is a testament to Forster's (correct) stance on the issue; i think you're meant to be grossed the fuck out by Maurice's thoughts. (also, not that this exempts him from criticism, but Forster himself was assaulted as a child; i think he very much understood the gravity of what he was suggesting.)

secondly, Maurice is an EXTREMELY flawed character, and it seems ludicrous to suggest that we're expected to sympathize with all of his thoughts and actions. he's an asshole for most of the book. much emphasis is placed on the fact that Maurice is an entirely average man within his time, location, and class; his opinions and actions fall in line with that, which is why i’m personally okay with his misogyny (even though i’d throw hands with him in real life). 

the big misunderstanding with a lot of Maurice’s flaws, i think, is that he isn’t a self-insert character, either for the reader or the author (consider the terminal note: “in Maurice i wanted to create a character who was completely unlike myself”). none of Forster’s characters are blank slates, to my mind — they all have extremely specific personalities; we’re not meant to be following them wholeheartedly the way we would with, say, Harry Potter. i worry some people read the book expecting to be able to back him 100%, but i think we're supposed to be observing Maurice, not putting ourselves in his shoes. (the omniscient narration helps with that, as we're told about elements of his psyche that Maurice himself isn't aware of. also, i’m no expert, so don't quote me here, but i think the concept of a self-insert protagonist is a sort of newer one? i feel like most books pre-mid-twentieth century have characters you're supposed to observe and criticize, and not wholly empathize with — Nick Carraway comes to mind.) 

lastly on his flaws, i think the genre you place the book in influences how angry you are at Maurice. if you see it as a romance novel, which is certainly a fair reading, his sudden moments of insane fucked-up-ness make it much harder to root for him. i’ve come to see it as more of a bildungsroman, so i think the point is Maurice's mistakes; he has to reckon with a lot of his actions, including the Dickie incident. 

the part of the whole Dickie debacle that’s the most fascinating to me is its context within Maurice’s discussion of sexuality. i think the Dickie incident showcases how sexual repression and internalized homophobia can pervert your perspective on all sexual relationships. within the novel, sex in general feels like something criminal (certainly in Maurice’s case this is true for sex between men; however, there are also the diagrams on the beach at the start of the book, and Anne’s complete lack of knowledge about sex when she marries Clive). if you view all sexual relationships as immoral, though, pedophilia and sexual assault become no more unethical than consensual sex. it’s interesting in that light, then, to compare the Dickie incident to the moment with the man on the train two chapters later: one absolutely should be illegal, but they are both interpreted by Maurice as obscene, and both (if acted upon) would have been criminal offenses. i also think it’s interesting that the man on the train is perhaps the closest comparison to Forster himself within the novel, as Forster, in middle age, cruised London’s public spaces in the hopes of finding someone to hook up with. while Maurice loathes the man on the train (David Leavitt’s introduction, again, discusses how Forster wrote a love story that deliberately excludes himself), i don’t think the reader is meant to. 

personally, the Dickie scene resonates with me as someone attracted to women. being told that your own desires are inherently predatory doesn’t dispel those desires, but only makes you ashamed of them, and warps your perception of healthy sexuality. i tend to interpret Maurice’s feelings about Dickie more as intrusive thoughts than actual, tangible want — this kind of obscenity, to his mind, is inevitable for him. i don’t think Maurice would have actually assaulted Dickie. i think he was cracking under the pressures of an openly hostile society, while grappling with his own repression and unmet needs. 

TL;DR — Maurice is a flawed character and Forster is critical of his actions. further, the Dickie incident gives us a striking picture of Edwardian society’s attitude towards all sexual relationships, which still has applications today; the episode also gives us insight into Maurice’s mental state. it’s uncomfortable, but in my opinion necessary to the core message of the book.

[lisinfleur]

I don't think all Bjorn's behaviour is Thorunn fault. She was suffering too, she thought she lost all her beauty and didn't think she was worth of Bjorn's love. I think that Lagertha could have talked with him about it, and taught him how to treat and support his wife their relationship could continue.

But Lagertha did nothing, they even left the little Siggy with Aslaug and as long as I know that she was terrible human being leaving the girl alone, she wasn't her granddaughter, so I ask where was Lagertha the defender of the women at these times?

TONS UNDER THE CUT XD Sorry for it being too long, love!

Ok, let us break your asks into parts cause I see some pretty good material here. First of all, Björn's behavior. Indeed it is not ONLY Þórunn's fault. But a great part is. A person's personality/character is built over a lot of small parts of itself and its relationship with the world around. Our mothers and fathers build a lot of ourselves, but we also learn a lot from people around us, and sometimes it pushes us away from our parents' behavior and even pushes us away from them (I may be inserting a little bit of personal experience here haha). In Björn's case, his relationship to women and character when it comes to being a husband/father comes pretty much from his traumas related to Ragnar and Þórunn respectively. Ragnar destroyed his conceptions of what should be a perfect love story and Þórunn broke his hope/self-confidence that he was able to build a story different from the one he saw his parents building. I think he kinda mirrored himself in Lagertha - the abandoned/betrayed part of the relationship  - and then decided to become Ragnar - the "fuck-it-all" part of the relationships he had. But we cannot say he didn't support Þórunn. He was UTTERLY supportive from carrying for her wound to keep their relationship warm, even trying to show her his desire was intact, his love was still there, and her beauty wasn't everything. As much as he had chance upon chance to receive love after Þórunn and I blame exclusively him for not allowing himself to be loved and dive into a true love like Torvi's or Gunnhild's; I blame Þórunn exclusively for not being able to accept her wound wasn't enough reason for her value as a woman/partner for Björn to be reduced. He loved her and he showed her scar meant nothing to him. She was the one who decided to start pushing him towards finding another woman (which ended up with him and Torvi getting involved) and later on, to leave him and little Siggy behind. So, no excuses for Þórunn here, but indeed Ragnar also had a part in this character construction for Björn and I believe even his involvement with Snaefrid and its tragic end also killed the last drop of hope he could have to love and be loved in this lifetime.

Now speaking of Aslaug, I utterly disagree that she was a "terrible human being". She wasn't. Definitely not. She was a human being. And here is the spot that everyone insists on ignoring through the whole fandom. No anger attached, for real, but there are some spots to be brought to light here that no one really uses to care about when speaking about Ragnar's second wife. So, let us bring it out the reasons why I do not agree with your definition of Aslaug: She was a mother of four. The woman was already taking care by herself of four kids, one of them SEVERELY disabled, screaming, and in pain 24/7 a day. As a mother of a possibly autistic child who screams at least 16 of the 24 hours she's with me, believe me: it makes you INSANE! And my daughter isn't even disabled or in pain like Ivar was. I can't stop crying and feeling the worst mother in the world when my Victoria cuts a finger or hurts herself falling during a run - now stop and imagine Aslaug's head thinking about the child she had just put in this world... At that time, they didn't have too much awareness of the men's participation in the children's production so, men were said to seed, women were said to produce the child. You can remember Ivar accusing Freydis of "producing him such a monster" when speaking about little Balðr. Aslaug dealt with the same guilt of producing herself a child with such terrible condition, always in pain, screaming for her help she couldn't offer. And in the middle of this she had Sigurd - who was still a baby around 1 to 2 years old - Hvitserk - who was a dog after his older brother EVERYWHERE - Ubbe, who was becoming a man too soon into her eyes - and Ragnar, who wasn't there practically all the time, leaving the housekeeping, the kingdom keeping, and the child keeping for her alone (cause people use to forget, but Bjorn was going everywhere with his father before assuming Kattegat's reign, so it was left in ASLAUG's hands). Do I have to remember this woman didn't know how to cook when she arrived? Her SERVANTS made the dinner she offered to Ragnar and Lagertha for welcoming her. The woman was a princess without a kingdom when she came, and she never had her father and mother around to tell her what to do or teach her how to be a mother. Believe me, girl, I had my mother to teach me, and even with her around it was HARD AS FUCK and I still learn things every day! Imagine how hard it was for her to do everything I just said she was responsible for... And then comes Þórunn and throws over her a fifth child she cared PERFECTLY about until BJÖRN rejects the child leaving HER with the incumbency to care for a fifth child in the middle of all the things she already had to do...

Whoever can remember, Aslaug had several mental breakdowns during this series, became alcoholic, lost her mind several times, cried her ass out... And who can blame her? She failed little Siggy, indeed, but she was overwhelmed trying to deal with several things at the same time along with the carelessness of her husband that was really not giving a flying fuck to what she was doing but was all up to slap her or speak about her mistakes whenever they would spot up. She failed Sigurd too... But no one can say Ubbe and Hvitserk weren't well raised and she lost her mind but even then, Ivar survived, didn't he? Aslaug wasn't a terrible human being. She was an overwhelmed woman... But can we say the same about Lagertha? As a warrior? Flawless! Amazing woman! But I still question myself about how the fuck did Björn reached adult life! The stories she taught Hali and Asa about Björn and Ragnar and being a warrior and son of who Hali was and her poor attention to the children's safety during a battle caused Hali to die that horrible way - and it WAS her fault! He was on her responsibility and SHE HAD to pay attention to create a safe (and preferentially LOCKED) space for the children to be during the attack, but she was so up to being the flawless shieldmaiden who would save the village for the women who came to ask for her help that she forgot children sometimes are stupid and can do stupid things to follow stupid examples... Hali wanted to be a warrior like his father and grandfather from her stories. She just forgot to say he had to GROW UP before holding a sword or proving himself a son of the great Björn Ironside...

Speaking of being a shitty grandmother, can we talk about little Siggy a little? She was LAGERTHA's granddaughter and RAGNAR's granddaughter. She had NOTHING to do with Aslaug and I didn't see any of them complaining Björn abandoned the child. Ragnar at least slapped his beautiful firstborn's face when Björn fucked up and took pregnant Þórunn with him into battle. But Lagertha? Not a single word before, not a single word during, not a single word after it. Not about little Siggy, not about dear Torvi that Björn abandoned out of nowhere - no. Instead of defending a woman suffering a sudden abandonment like hers, Lagertha was too occupied negotiating the Sammi's princess' pussy for her beloved golden boy. (Sorry about the language, but gods, it made me mad!)

So, after all of this, if someone can be called a despicable human being in this whole situation - unpopular opinion here - it would be Lagertha. And in this, we agree.

Sorry for the long LOONG answer (way too long, I'm so sorry!), and thanks for the opportunity to vent about this haha Feel free to send me answers! I love talking about the series like this! All the love!

[goodluckbabe2024]

my friend i am here with the self insert oc sam parallel episode, i have a history exam tomorrow and i refuse to revise in favor of writing this. let me take you on a journey.

this is very self indulgent and spans kind of the entirety of the series (because im nosy and want to be involved in every cool plot) so im not gonna embarrass myself OR bore you but the general gist of the first episode is this:

i am an 18yr old psychic kid raised by a hunter, meeting the boys in s2 through a “my father was also murdered by a ghost of his past”, except he did not immediately assume i am the antichrist while i was an infant and raised me relatively normal, thus demonstrating that john winchester was a fucked up parent because he allowed himself to be.

i am what sam could’ve been and he is once again reminded that all he ever wanted was to be normal and loved and how that was taken away from him, unfairly. he is angry. he is jealous. he feels bad about being jealous because “her dad’s dead, what the fuck,man”. he wants me to be ok, ultimately, ofc he does, but he doesn’t understand why i got it, why he didn’t, why couldn’t john do it. this serves as more material for soul-searching bc i am a firm believer that understanding the circumstances of abuse and neglect and wrapping ur head around them helps lift the guilt we often burden ourselves with: it’s not that if sam had been a better son john would have loved him more, it’s that john refused to look at sam for what sam really was: a child wracked by generational trauma and unprocessed grief, whose autonomy was violated before he could say his first word, in need of love, and chose to instead look at sam through his own grief muddied goggles and link him to mary’s death. insane how this is turning into sam analysis isn’t it.

i am also angry because im still sort of a child but not really, not anymore, im on the cusp of adulthood and going into it knowing that the world is unfair and hateful, grief is written all over me and sam thinks oh nono, because hope’s kind of the whole point isn’t it, and i had it and now it has been taken from me along with my parent and sam feels so alone and furious with everything, he’s plagued by skull cracking demonic visions, and he doesn’t want this idealized version of himself to ultimately end up like the version of himself that he is now, the one he doesn’t understand, the one he’s afraid of. he’s looking in a weird funhouse mirror, sees a kid who was different like he was but was cherished, and sees her end up in the same position he is now: fatherless, on a quest for revenge. he thinks that if we get the monster of the week, ill be better and he’ll find his hope in that. all roads lead to rome but he wont allow this one to reach the colosseum (defying destiny theme, hello).

the monster of the week hunt begins thusly, with sam generally uncomfortable. i confide in him about my psychic abilities and i explain to the brothers that i can help. both are opposed, but i am a chaotic little bitch and get involved anyway. throughout my involvement, sam learns more about the world of psychic mediums and thinks aha! hope! maybe if i dig deep enough (whore for lore amirite babes) ill find someone who’s lived an experience similar to mine! miss oc what are ur book recs for “i think i am psychic and terrified of it” and i say “fear not nerd have a very small cup of coffee and let me tell you about this great college course on divination”. this is relevant because i wanted to see more of sam desperately trying to fit into some sort of community, even a community of supernatural folk john and dean might’ve disapproved of, and finding that, at this point in time, he does not. he’s an outsider to normal people, he’s an outsider to those in contact with the paranormal. really hammer in that freak (affectionate) tagline. (he WILL build a safe haven in the men of letters bunker for all misfits in his adulthood, party city wig sam i do NOT perceive you)

the hunt culminates in an impressive showdown that includes the following: pyrotechnics, a cool spell, seeing things that aren’t really there, the power of friendship and a butter knife thrown like a frisbee. at the end we all look like final girls because im gay so blood is sexy. sam, who has come to regard me like a younger sibling/some sort of manifestation of his inner child, learns what it’s like to be deeply concerned with a youth’s safety and has a heart to heart with dean about how yeah, handling a teenager with incredible amounts of simmering rage and unprocessed grief while being barely equipped for any guardian-like role IS hard, man, is this what it felt like every time i busted out a batshit plan last minute and barely executed it in time to survive??? “yeah. bitch” “jerk.”

the epilogue is as follows: we see sam feeling many complicated things, but he is satisfied for the moment. we have a little heart to heart while laying flowers on my father’s grave. we both look a little worse for wear, but hopeful. “what’re you gonna do now?” “im not sure. college, maybe?” we keep in touch. i go on to art school and make homoerotic art pieces, as is my right. i make guest appearances whenever they need a deus ex machina bs spell to get out of trouble.

maybe in later seasons i go a little ape shit and commit some magical atrocities in the name of the greater good. maybe i get a little antagonized and he gets to offer me the understanding he couldn’t get when he needed it. i see you, sam, treating all misfits in later seasons with kindness, and i offer you a claire-like parallel to be there for through the tough times, thus healing some of your own wounds. everyone deserves an angsty wlw teenager to bond with . (i am only on season 9 of my rewatch and i have not seen seasons 12-15 in their entirety, if he does get one im not disrespecting that character and i love them probably)

the boys hit the road. vienna by billy joel plays, because it makes me feel things.

Slow down you're doing fine

You can't be everything you want to be before your time

Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight

Too bad, but it's the life you lead

You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need

Though you can see when you're wrong

You know you can't always see when you're right

You got your passion, you got your pride

But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?

Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

end scene.

this is poetry. i will cherish this forever thank you for sharing with me and good luck on your exam

[scribblemetae]

ScribbleMeTae | Masterlist

All my works are obviously completely fiction and in no way reflect against the way I believe they are in real life. All my works are Reader insert and will be M rated.

I use a lot of dark themes within my stories so if that’s not your think please make sure you read all the warnings that are given. If you believe there should be a warning in anything that I haven't given please don’t hesitate to let me know.

PLAYMATES - Masterlist -Synopsis: After a horrible blow in your life that left you homeless without anybody to turn to. You find yourself turning to a job you never thought you’d stumble upon. The role of a playmate was easy. Get paid to have sex with attractive idol men. How would you cope in a world that was completely new to you? And how would you survive when all 7 men have specific kinks for you to cater too? Genre: Smut, Fluff, Sex Worker

Step-bro Collaboration with @lonelyhobi​  - Step-bro Masterlist -Synopsis: Basically just loads of one shots based on the idea of smutty goodness with all the members of BTS as your Step-bros. Not for everybody but when we thought of the idea we couldn’t help ourselves 

The Yandere ask collection -Synopsis - Drabbles I’ve written based on all the horny yandere fantasies you guy send me compiled into a list for easy reading

Kim SeokJin

One Shots

-Let me love you (m) - When your best friend admits his love to you during a drunken hook-up you try your best to break things off before he’s able to break down your walls. Much to your surprise, he refuses to give in and will do anything to prove his love, and make you love yourself in the process. Genre: Smut, Best friends to lovers

-I just want attention (m) -Its been 3 weeks since your boyfriend went away for work and now he’s come home he still hasn’t given you any attention, it time to take matters into your own hands Genre: Established relationship, Smut.

Min Yoongi

One Shots

-Supply and Demand (m) - Turns out the recruitment agency you work for is trying to pave the way for all things supernatural by opening job opportunities to all species, and it’s your job to deal with the large influx of application. Genre: Smut, Supernatural.

Jung Hoseok

Drabbles

Mission Accomplished - 1k words, mentions of smut.

A gift - 1.5k words, smut

Kim Namjoon

Drabbles (Series)

-Trials and tribulations of an unconventional relationship (m) -Dilf!Namjoon fucks the babysitter and falls in love, this is the story of his life after his wife and her life after breaking apart a marriage, is love enough? Genre: Dilf!Namjoon, smut, A series of drabbles.

Drabbles

But, I love you   - 1.1k Words. Yandere, Smut. 

Collar - 900 words, yandere, smut.

Park Jimin 

One Shots

-Loose Ends (m) - A collaboration written by Myself and @jkeuphoriadreamland​ -  Synopsis:  With a past you’d like to forget, you move out of town hoping to start a new life in hopes that no one will ever learn of the bitch you used to be. You meet a man that is above you in every way and you wonder whether or not you deserved his kindness, but he had a completely different agenda. -Genre: Yandere, E2L, Smut

-The art of self-restraint. Ft Jungkook and Taehyung Synopsis: Jimin had always been your good little boy, doing anything he can to please you, but when he walks in on you and your boyfriend together and notices the dominance he has over something inside of him is begging to switch things up. Genre: Smut

Kim Taehyung 

Fics

-Deepest Indulgence (m) Synopsis: The world was a mess. Gangs, violence and rates of poverty were at an all time high since the corporations took over everything. You built your sex house to be a safe place and a sanctuary for the vulnerable, promising to protect. What happened when a famous corpo walked through the door, begging for a job at Deepest Indulgence, the one sex house that wasn’t meant for men like him? Genre: Cyber Punk, Dystopian Future, Sex Worker

One Shots

-Its Boo(ty) season - Taehyung Version SYNOPSIS: HALLOWEENS COMING AND IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A FUN TIME AT YOUR FRIENDS HALLOWEEN PARTY, TURNS OUT TAEHYUNG HAD OTHER PLANS. Genre: e2l, Halloween fun

-The art of self-restraint. Ft Jimin and Jungkook Synopsis: Jimin had always been your good little boy, doing anything he can to please you, but when he walks in on you and your boyfriend together and notices the dominance he has over something inside of him is begging to switch things up. Genre: Smut

Drabbles

A little tied up - 1.3k Words, Yandere, smut.

Mine - 800 words, Yandere, smut.

Jeon Jungkook

Fics

Thank you, Baby Masterlist (m) -Description/Summery: Turns out the boy who's been stalking you for years has decided its about time he shows his face in the form of a picture, and decides its time to talk to you for real, in the form of a phone call.  Genre: Yandere, Smut.

One Shots

-The Garden Of Sin - Lucifer (m) Synopsis:  The antichrist was getting sick of it all. Sick of the lack of Sin upstairs. Sick of the 7 princes of hell doing absolutely nothing, bickering all day and sick of the sins being seen as nothing but a gimmick. It was time to show the humans exactly what his demons could do to them. Time to make them scared of the underworld once more. It was time let his boys up onto the surface to show just how sinful they can be. Genre: Supernatural, smut.    

-Naughty Boy (m) Commission request: Reader is older step sister that knows he has a crush on her/yandere tendencies & she teases him until one day he gives in.

-The art of self-restraint. Ft. Jimin and Taehyung Synopsis: Jimin had always been your good little boy, doing anything he can to please you, but when he walks in on you and your boyfriend together and notices the dominance he has over something inside of him is begging to switch things up. Genre: Smut   

- Perfectly, us (m) Synopsis:  You have the perfect valentines day planned, the rose petals, the candles, everything you could think of to make it the perfect day. Sadly, when it comes to yours and Jungkook's relationship nothing has ever been perfect, but luckily for you, perfect is subjective. Genre: Slice of life, smut

Drabbles

You’re the bitch tonight - 1K Words, Dirty talk, not smut but smut.

Bad boy - 1k words, dirty talk, sub JK, Assplay.

Teeth - 1k words, yandere, non-con.

[sortblog]

Nørrebro Pride

It is difficult to know where to begin. It is difficult for me to know what to say and where to start. 

Last year Andrea Coloma and Cecilie Viet drank too much wine and hyped each other enough with talks about marching down Nørrebro. These beautiful people were tired and wanted something new. And I was tired too and foolish enough to join them. Last year we were overwhelmed by your power – but this year! Holy shit!

This year – please put your hand up! Give your self a round of applause. This year a lot of people are coming together. This is something else now. There has been so much effort into the community kitchen, to the security team, to outreach, to meeting with different groups the past six months. There are many lessons we have learnt organising this year, are learning right now, and have to continue to learn for this to continue. Thank you. 

And there’s a reason that you’re here; there is a reason why I am here. First of all, Pride is political! Queer and trans folk face hardships – both locally and globally. Isolated from families we create our own. For wanting to live in the bodies that we desire; for wanting a world in which we can desire, we are shamed, silenced, institutionalised, sterilised, assaulted, raped, and killed – either by others or the straight world order leading us to kill ourselves at extreme rates. Sometimes going outside is the hardest: being reminded of what limited place you have. Even if I am privileged I am reminded that the public is a hetero public, it is a white public – this was made totally clear to me just days ago when a man told in the calmest voice that if only I followed him, he and his friends could burn me alive – with no police watching he added. Repeatedly he told me of his intended crime. Repeatedly I witnessed how no one intervened. Repeatedly I was reminded that my black body, my black queer trans body is a body that can always be transgressed and don’t belong in this world. Reminded that I do not know how old I will get, faced with the reality that way too many black trans and gender non-conforming folks do not live to see 40. 

What ever reasons you have felt to come here today; whether it is to grieve loved ones you have lost or the lives that you cannot yet live; if it is to be joyous with friends and comrades; or you do not yet know why you’re here –  know that you belong, on this earth. That you deserve to belong here. 

But there are also other reasons why we are here. 

Nørrebro is a battlefield. It is one of several places politicians like to legislate on and against. When the government legislates against the homeless it’s also about the people here in Nørrebro; when the government makes squatting illegal it’s about the political extra-parliamentary movements in Nørrebro; when the government and police agree on stop-and-searching and special zones it is about brown and black boys in Nørrebro; when the government wants to privatise and limit social housing it’s about controlling Nørrebro & Nordvest (Gellerup, Vollsmose, etc); when it allows for Rasmus Paludan to be paraded around it is about provoking Nørrebro, and earning cheap political points in the rest of this fucking racist country; when the government legislates against muslim women wearing the veil it is concerned with Nørrebro. We could go on.

How the government acts when it sees Nørrebro and other places like it, is nothing short of fascism; a place infested with brown and black people and migrants who should be deported, vilified and discriminated against; a place where working-class communities are to be punished with higher rents and costs of living and cuts to social infrastructure. Until all of Copenhagen is free of single-mothers, muslim women and men, the sick and homeless folks, working-class folks and impoverished folks, black and brown folks, the government will not rest. The government wants many of us – some more than others – gone, and this neighbourhood turned into a paradise for the white middle- and upper classes. 

It does not make sense to talk about what Nørrebro Pride is – because it is nothing yet –  but all of the things it wants to be and could be.

Nørrebro Pride wants to be anti-commercial and anti-gentrification, but for this to happen we have to find ways of making sure businesses don’t just pinkwash themselves with our lives, but also to make sure that everyone – with or without papers – in this neighbourhood, in this city, in this country have access and the right to housing, transport, health care, safety, and workers rights. If we want a Pride which takes gentrification seriously, we have to think of how to stop global capital mangement funds like Blackstone’s undercover assault on the neighbourhood, as well as be ready to put our bodies on the line when people in Mjølnerparken soon will be evicted. We need to prevent and stop this.

Nørrebro Pride wants Black people, Indigenous people and People of Colour to the front, but, as it was stressed during the community kitchen thursday, must acknowledge the limits of this when even marginalised communities aren’t even equal between each other; when anti-Blackness runs through society and every community; when Greenland is still colonised; when Denmark sold 100.000 black caribbean people to the USA, who still cannot vote to this day; when muslim communities are targeted daily; when adoptees are ignored and their lives made into accessories for white heterosexuals and increasingly the lgbt community; when there are people in camps. In order to organise together, it will require work; it will require staying with the trouble; it will require conscious effort. It will require time. It will require white people decentralising themselves. 

Nørrebro Pride wants to be accessible but is not. There is work to do in making the City of Copenhagen to make a place for people without homes or living on the streets; people unable to attain shelter and health care because of their lack of cpr-numbers; people who are racialised and denied access to even the smallest resources to make our communities accessible; people with disabilities facing an infrastructure that tries to deny and limit their agency at every moment. 

Let Nørrebro Pride be one of many places where we can conspire about our next actions! Let it be the place where lovers meet, kiss and fuck!  

But most of all do not walk away from today without anger, pride or a plan. We need to build; we need to organise; and we need stronger communities! If every poor person, homeless person, working class person, migrant, black person, person of colour is not to be driven from this neighborhood or the next or the next – we need to ask questions and act on them.

Close your eyes *insert joke*

There are things we need to ask ourselves and act upon together.

Who gets the right to have a home? 

What kind of people have a right to claim a home? Home is often defined by white heteronormativity, but who are all of the other people that do not fit into that box? 

What do we have to leave behind to be welcomed home? 

How can we reclaim home? 

What does home mean if you cannot leave it, are forced to stay in it, or do not have access to it? 

How do we keep our cultures and histories alive when separated from our roots? 

How do we connect across generations? 

How do we make sure that our movements don’t just become the next hashtag that you can sell on a t-shirt? 

How do we make sure that it isn’t about individuals who can earn money of the struggle? Liberation doesn’t pay; it costs. 

How can we create sustainable economic structures that allow marginalised communities the time to have their voices heard and their own power grown? Survival is no joke. 

What do you have access to that others do not? Are you sharing it?

How do those of us privileged outside the asylum system, create sustainable structures that are capable of fighting for justice together with those imprisoned in the camps? 

How do we make sure our own communities stop accepting the premise of border regimes? 

How do we make sure our own communities stand in solidarity with sex workers? 

How do we prevent the lives of queer and trans folks from being marginalized in the struggle? As we have been in every struggle, in every political space, on every continent. No matter the movement, no matter the time. 

How do we ensure that queer and trans lives don’t become excuses for bombing, sanctioning or further exploiting the countries all diasporic folks are part of? 

How do we expand? How do we sustain? How do we lift each other? As a close friend and comrade says: How do we learn to organize with intention? What shall we do to remind each other of the fact, that we once too believed in the lies of the system? 

Open your eyes. And dream. 

Thank you. 

[halfofxerxes]

He's been dozing off in and out of sleep for a while now, the pleasant heat of the blanket warding off the chill of the night, and of the spirit he's taken as his husband. These days, it was only the night air that told him when it was time to take Sil to bed, either for sleep or sex, though tonight it had been a night where they had held each other and talked.

He's aware of a faint presence in the room, but the fabricants seem undisturbed. Finally, lifting his head, he catches sight of a small blond child.

Edward?

The figure looks up at him briefly, and he finally recognizes him. It isn't his son, or any of the children.

"It's you." He says, sitting up.

"Is it?" The boy asks, picking at the ground, not meeting his eyes now. "I would have expected that you wouldn't have recognized me."

"How could I not?" Van asks, "I was you for all of my life."

"Then why have you tried so hard to leave me behind?" It isn't anger in his voice, it's pain and loneliness. Slave 23 doesn't cry, even when he so desperately wants to, and Van feels his tears on his own face.

"We need to talk." Van says finally, rubbing at his cheeks, "Can I sit down next to you?"

"What grain of sand can stand against the wind?" The response is as bitter as broken glass. Van doesn't respond to that. Eventually, the boy's shoulders fall, and he begrudgingly nods, indicating the spot next to him.

Van is cautious, moving into 23's space, not knowing what to expect. Where he is… can be many things, most of them unpleasant.

When he sits down, he notices a small pile of food next to him, stale flatbread pieces. He had forgotten he had used to save as much as he could spare for the days they let him out to play. He takes a piece, crumbling it up in his hands as he looks out, knowing they must be in the courtyard, but not seeing it quite yet.

"You know they're better fed than you are." Van say, tossing out his handful, "You would have been better off eating it yourself."

"We saw many people eating as much as they could, and all of them died." 23 says, "At least we got to see this many times."

They really do look like angels, descending from the sky, the sun through their wings creating rainbows through their thin feathers, lighting up the ground and painting the space around them as they peck at the offerings. Their iridescent necks were magic. They were magic.

"Do you remember what we thought before our master came?" 23 asks, "Why we decided that we wanted to try again despite how much everything hurt all the time no matter what we did?"

"Yes, I do." Van says, throwing out another handful of food. "We wanted to see the pigeons. Just once if that's all the time we had left, just one more time."

"You probably hate me for that." 23 says, "None of what happened would have happened if I hadn't been so selfish."

Van sighs, looking over at the form of 23, seeing those gangly limbs pulled close to his body, face buried in his knees. Had he looked like that? Had he looked like that before going to the Alchemist? There's a pickle of anger and frustration at the back of his neck, a dry feeling in his mouth.

"I can hardly make a judgment on that." Van says, "The life I have is thanks to that. I'm only here because you were. I've never been upset with you."

"That isn't true." 23 says, "You hate me. You think I was weak and I should have stopped everything. I should have stopped it. All I am is a burden on you."

"Van, don't talk about yourself like that." Van says, frustrated. "Look at yourself! Take an honest look at yourself."

23 pauses, looking down at his body, the small boned, skeletal frame that he inhabits. Van reaches over, taking his right hand in his own, his large adult hand dwarfing his child's self. When he was 23, he had thought his hands were freakishly large, but they still were the hands of a child.

"Van, you could hardly fight your way out of a sheet, how were you supposed to fight adult men off of you?" Van says, shaking his head, "And as seductive as they had you act, no one would think you were desirable unless they had already decided to fuck a child."

"Don't call me a child!" 23 rips his hand out of Van's grasp, high points of color appearing on his face. "A slave is hardly a child in any way that counts! You know as well as I do that I was practically middle aged as far as slaves went and--"

"Don't you think that's horrible? Middle aged at what-- 13? You're a child, and you were a child long before that. I'm so much older than that, and you're trying to defend people that wouldn't care if you died. You're livestock! But you're also a child, and that's something the both of us have to accept."

"We met some of those people after." 23 says after a moment, "They wouldn't hurt a child, they're not like that."

"I know you don't want to think that." Van shakes his head, letting out a long sigh, "I know you want to pretend that somehow, you aren't what you are. I, of all people, know that. Even though you worked with them and they were nice to you then, they were more than willing to hurt you, especially when you didn't have anyone to protect you."

They turn then, looking across the courtyard, a memory playing out. Rough palms reaching for him, the shocked stare of an animal who hasn't learned how to run… and the Alchemist quickly stepping in front of him, the folds of those sleeves enveloping him, the sound of his master's voice as he scolded the man for trying to paw at his assistant.

"We loved him so much." Van muses, "He always had a way of finding us before things got too bad. But he didn't love us, not in the way that we needed."

"We were lazy and didn't work hard enough." 23 says, "Why should he have loved us? We were smart, but not worthy."

"Being worthy doesn't matter." Van says, shaking his head. "Trisha loved us, and we were so much less worthy of her."

He turns back to 23, seeing the sadness in his eyes. He knows that isn't good enough, but it's true. He reaches over, putting his arms around 23's shoulders, pulling him close.

"I'm not trying to leave you behind." He says finally, "I know it's hard, Van. But it's just growing up, everyone we knew died. I know you wanted to have a father in our Master, and live in a kind Xerxes, but trying to make Xerxes into a place without teeth only hurts us. Your innocence was warped before you even knew what that was, and your bitter brand of optimism got us through a lot, but we can't keep pushing that onto what happened and what was actually there. We're going to die soon, and it's not fair to keep doing this to ourselves."

"...And yet you still use 'we' instead of 'I' and 'us' instead of 'me'." 23 points out, "I don't want to hear it coming from you, if you meant it, there wouldn't be any separation between us."

"I know." Van admits, "Every time we try, it turns out wrong. You don't know how to talk to people, and I don't blame you for it, but you actively try to wreck whatever I've got going on, and that's a problem."

"Wouldn't you rather have a partner that can take all of you?" 23 snaps, "I'm here too, and it's not fair that I keep having to hide!"

"I don't want you to hide, I don't want you attacking people. I know you feel like this frail child, but even now, our body and our knowledge isn't meant to be wielded by a vindictive, scared child that doesn't know the difference between our husband and someone who is going to hurt us."

"He is going to hurt us! Why are you so relaxed around him, he's going to hurt us and you won't protect us from it!"

Van can't help but sigh, trying not to roll his eyes.

"Van." He says firmly, making 23 look at him, "Van, you really have to stop acting like this. You keep inserting your fear into everything. I know that everything is scary to you, I feel it too, but that's why I'm trying to talk to you about this. I'm not happy with keeping you in Xerxes like this, but whenever I try to let you come to where I am, you keep biting people- sometimes literally."

"They had it coming." 23 argues, being a bit of a brat about it. "I know you weren't sorry."

"Not everyone you chew up deserved it, and I have to deal with it. You're destructive. If we did it your way, we would have left our husband before he married us." Van runs his hands through his hair, "But I'm not angry with you, I do understand. It's just… hard. Especially when you show up unexpectedly and run off to leave me to deal with it."

"Would you have me resolve it?" 23 asks, his tone somewhere between serious and sardonic. "Our husband doesn't speak well with me, and he certainly didn't intend to marry me. You told him about our nature of being host to other souls, but you conveniently left me out of it."

"I think he knows." Van says, "But… You are me, and to speak of it otherwise is wrong. All the reckless, careless, and scared parts, but still me."

"Maybe you're just the calm and rational parts of me that got to mature because people liked you better." 23 says bitterly, pulling his chin from Van's grasp. "If it wasn't for the dwarf we wouldn't have split at all from each other and I wouldn't have to have been repressed all the time in an attempt to portray a sense of wisdom you wouldn't actually develop until your second decade in Xing."

"No, I don't think so." Van says, "Without the dwarf we would have died. The real us wouldn't be stuck as a little kid even if we had managed to survive, the objective truth is that we're not powerless anymore, even if you feel it so deeply you still want to die despite having gotten out of that situation."

"It's one thing to get out of a situation, it's another to get into a situation." 23 grumbles, "The pigeons hardly even eat around us anymore. You can't even see them if they did! But we had centuries, more than that even, where we didn't see as much as a feather. And that's supposed to be a good thing? That's our liberation and our freedom? Not being able to do the things we like? Xerxes was hard, but at least we had them!"

23 motions out grandly to the pigeons, who flap and shy back from the wild gesture. Van doesn't say anything, tossing out another handful of food.

"Pigeons aren't a substitution for human company." He remarks, "If we had formed a bond with someone, we wouldn't have put so much on chattel like them."

"We killed a child, Van." 23 says, "How could we form a bond with even our own brothers after that?"

The pigeons flutter, a glimpse of a waxen, cold body underneath them. Van remembers it, that day, the way that master had thrown that child into him.

"He must have been already dying." Van says, "I know we shook him until he stopped making noise, but there was no way we could have done anything unless--"

"We should have known better!" 23 growls, cutting him off, "You can't justify something like this. He stopped making noise and stopped moving because of us! What would you call that other than murder?"

"Ignorance." Van replies, "I'm not saying it was right, but rigor mortis had already set in. It takes about four hours for that to even start. We were left with him long enough for him to die, and long enough for him to start to stiffen. What kind of adult leaves a child alone that long without checking in on them?"

"You know why." 23 shoots back, "You know why. They wanted us to be so desperate that we would do anything for them to take us out of there, to not leave us alone anymore."

"And you have the audacity to think those same people kind later in your life?" Van says, trying very hard not to shout, "How can you blame yourself for something they did to us? We could have been that child, Van. We could have been crushed, our back broken, our ribs cracked, and given to another child while we died. The only reason it wasn't us was because we got lucky. The only reason we made it to our Master and got out of Xerxes was because we got lucky."

"Lucky? You're calling it luck? No one can understand us when you speak truly." 23's laugh is bitter. "Not even our husband. I'm upset about one child; you got to see an entire world die and you call it luck."

"Would you call the opportunity to raise a larger family than we ever thought possible anything but a miracle? With a man who listens to both of us as best he can without constantly shaming us for our situation? As much as you say he hates you, he could be doing a lot more to make you unwelcome to even show up."

"You know that would only make me show up more." 23 points out, "I'm the only one who knows how to get people like that to stop."

Van lets out an audible sigh.

"The way to get it to stop is leave." He says shortly, "You keep making us stay with people like that because you tell me they love us so much. Now that we actually have him, you want us to be mean to him."

"I never said to be mean to him." 23 argues, "I want you to see how far he'll let us push him until he finally breaks. Everyone always breaks. Always snaps. He already kept us from Alphonse."

"He didn't keep us from Alphonse, you decided to start talking when I was trying to tell him!" Van's frustration is starting to boil over, but he knows that if he lets it, 23 is going to be on him as fast as he can be, fighting with him until both of them can calm down. "You have to remember this was near the start of our time with him, he didn't know what you were saying, just that we were terribly upset. It's no wonder he ended up confused and just told us to stop doing things."

"But you couldn't even do that!" 23 says, sitting up and leaning forward, form trembling with tension. "The only reason you ended up with him at all was because no one else would put up with you for long periods of time. I didn't have to get involved at all for you to constantly ruin your life.

"Wouldn't you think it's a point in his favor that he does put up with me?" Van asks, "If he had wanted me to sit down and shut up he could have made me do it."

"Toleration isn't the same as him enthusiastically wanting you with him, it's not my fault you're too stupid to learn the difference."

When Van takes a swing at 23, it's not his other self that feels the blow. The tired, and all too familiar resigned grunt of Sil brings him back, briefly, to the world where his eyes don't work, a metal hand on his wrist. There's a haze of confusion over him that shouldn't be there, as hard as he tries to form a thought to apologize for hitting Sil, the angles of his words don't fit into his mouth.

Sil, probably sensing how upset he was by his dream, and his growing distress at being unable to speak, casts a spell of calming onto him, before brushing the tips of his brazen fingers against the side of Van's face.

When 23 finds him again, they're in a field of poppies, Van on his back, staring up past the colored flowers.

"He didn't even yell at you?" 23 asks, "That's so unfair. I wanted him to pin you down."

"I know you did." Van says, reaching upwards to pull the boy into the flowers with him. "I wasn't mauling him, that would have been an inappropriate response."

"Yeah, but--"

"Shut up and enjoy the goddamn poppies." Van tells him, "I know you like them as much as I do."

"Ugh."

23 stops kicking, flopping out on his back.

Van doesn't mind the calm that Sil puts onto him. Magicka was strange, and while spells the color changes, he stands by the observation that between mages the base color and smell did too. Alphonse always produced something like alchemy, even on his calming spells, all lightning and char and decomposition, and sometimes gives Van a rash if he uses it near him, let alone on him.

Sil's magicka always had the silken feeling of his sashes, everything that bore his touch had oceans in it. These flowers shimmered with his power, and Van loved watching them as he slept.

23 lays still with him, linking their fingers together. Van really didn't mind him, sometimes. It was when 23 took the face of the Homunculus and started spitting vile that things were… hard. At that point it probably wasn't even this part of him, but it could be so hard to track down bits of him if they don't find him first.

"I do really like this." 23 says finally, "There's so much here we can't hide from. The things that don't make sense. The flowers seem to keep them at bay."

"Alphonse's spells call them." Van remarks, "I remember, vaguely, one time he decided to 'take care of me' while our husband was working and how much of a mess I was when our husband woke me up."

23 laughs shortly, a soft sound following after it. He holds that note, proceeding to shake himself after a minute.

"It's good that our husband put us back to sleep." 23 says, "That was a bad time."

"If I knew dying was going to be like this, I don't think I would have been so eager for it when I was you." Van admits, "I thought dying old and decrepit was going to be… like falling asleep, but over many, many years. I wasn't expecting to be so scared all the time. What if I do evaporate after all? Will it be enough to live in other people's memories?"

"I want nothing more than to be forgotten by others." 23 murmurs, "Not by you, of course, but I mean… I don't want to be brought up as part of your past, like we survived somehow."

"We did survive." Van tells him, "I don't think I could have done what you did. It still shocks me when I remember how bad things were."

23 falls quiet, squeezing his hand for a long moment, rolling over onto his side to look at Van.

"I don't think I did survive." He says finally. "I would have grown up if there was enough of me to do so."

"But you did." Van says, "Somehow… Despite everything… without even knowing there was a better world to strive for, you kept moving forward, looking for anything to hold onto."

"And what has that gotten us?" 23 asks, "How would you describe this as surviving when I apparently ruin everything? How would you describe this as surviving when everything hurts and reminds us of being small? Of being ready to offer ourself up to anyone just to feel like someone wants to touch us? Of falling asleep thinking about the sickening feeling of having someone inside us even when we want it? How is this survival? How is this anything but being born into hell?"

Van doesn't have any response for that, though he wishes he had the words for it. 23 is the part of him that always lives in terror, the part of himself he wishes he could sooth more than others. Though justified, the agony is constant, even with the knowledge and logic he couldn't have prevented it.

Finally, he sighs, setting his hand on 23's shoulder.

"I love you." He says finally. "Despite everything you are and represent, I love you. You don't need a reason to have gotten through it. You don't need a reason to have been there in the first place. If this was truly cosmic punishment for the life we would live, being used as a puppet for old men is a piss poor cosmic reckoning. No one, not even us, deserves that. No one deserves to be confined when struggling against that, especially for fighting against something like that. When I say I couldn't do it, I mean it. People have died at my hands for trying to do it to me. For you to come out of it being able to learn and read and grow… to gain a new life, despite the circumstances, so that I can call you by our name? How could I do anything but love you?"

The look in young Van's eyes is shy, sparkling with unspent tears. He reaches out, touching Van's face with hesitant fingers, the points of his cheekbones that stand out so strongly on their face.

"Do you really?" He asks, "Do you truly love me, Van?"

It was the first time his young self had hailed him as such, and tears appear in his own eyes.

"As such, I must." Van says simply.

They hold each other in the poppies, and as the flowers faded, so did the lines between them.

When he awakes, his arms are around himself, the sound of his own heartbeat loud in his ears.

"Van?" Sil's voice whispers gently, "Are you awake?"

"It's just me." Van says, "I'm here."

"... Is it sometimes not you?" Sil asks.

"Not anymore."

[marypsue]

fanfic: First 5 prime numbers!

why would you force me, a writer and known dumbass, to try to remember math stuff

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one? 

I was going to be extremely witty and paste in screenshots of the list of fandoms on my AO3, but tumblr is having a breakdown and won’t let me, so I’ll just go with the short answer: lots. 

There are different things I like about all of the different canons - and fandoms - that I’ve written for. I love cheesy jokes no matter where I go, but I also like the rich mine of angst and garish darkness that the Lost Boys have to offer. I love the fairy-tale structure and the heady romance of Labyrinth, I like how I can basically just write original fiction when it comes to the X-Men and it’s probably canon to something somewhere, and I appreciate the challenge of trying to nail the tone of RAM while still keeping the depth of character and the core of sincerity and emotion that I’m gonna end up bringing to anything I write about. (And also, projecting. Did I mention projecting?)

ROTG in particular stands out for the sheer creative freedom the fandom encouraged - we made up an AU where several different versions of the main villain (English movie, Finnish dub, book, concept art) lived together and attended the same university (along with multiple versions of the other characters) and it was sheer unadulterated crack. We wrote mythos. We wrote an expanded steampunk Treasure Planet universe full of high tragedy and classic-children’s-lit drama. We wrote poetry. We wrote ambitious crossovers and extraordinarily complex backstories for characters who ended up being Not That Deep. We wrote ridiculous comedy nonsense. We wrote so much fluff. My partner @gretchensinister created an entirely original fantasy alternate world and wrote a high fantasy novel inspired by the characters, which she’s planning to turn into an original series (speaking of, I will always shamelessly plug A Draught Of Light. If you liked A:TLA, you owe it to yourself to read it, and you don’t need to know anything about ROTG to enjoy it. In fact, you might enjoy it more not knowing anything about ROTG, though a few inside jokes might go over your head).

With that said, though, I think I have enjoyed writing for Gravity Falls the most. Partly it’s because of the skills I developed working in the other fandoms, so that now I feel confident enough in my work that I can stop worrying so much about making it good and just have fun with it. Partly it’s because the tone, the mood and the theme, of the series align with my interests and my values so well. It’s the kind of story that I would like to write, it’s the kind of story that I wish I’d written, and I love all of the characters so much but also can relate to so many of them, that getting to expand on it and play in its universe is just a treat and a joy. I may have found my forever fandom.

(The rest of this is going behind a cut for length because it turns out all of my answers are like this.)

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I…don’t get reader inserts. Especially the ones that include the little (y/n). (Partly because it jolts me right out of a story, partly because for the first while after the trend started, I was reading them as ‘yes/no’ and was extremely confused.) I understand that the intent is to create a story where the reader can easily imagine themselves as the protagonist, but…you have to give that protagonist some traits, and have them make choices, and in order to do that you have to give them some sort of a personality, and then 1) not every person who reads it will be able to go ‘oh yeah, that’s me’ and 2) you’ve got an original character anyway! 

I saw a post recently where someone had drawn a picture with the caption “this is what (y/n), the reader of my story x, looks like” and listed a set of personality traits/likes and dislikes, like, at that point…just give them a name! They’re an OC! 

With that said, though, like self-inserts, reader inserts are fun (for people who like that sort of thing) and harmless, and I really hope nobody’s being a dick about them. Fandom should be fun, and even if I don’t get that thing you’re doing for fun, that doesn’t mean you’re Doing It Wrong.

Also, I fucking love making up OCs, and if allowed, I would do nothing but that all day.

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Oh, this is cruel. I should not have done this. 

So, there are a lot of them. Apparently some people don’t spend all their free time coming up with bullshit ideas that spiral wildly out of their control into full, developed narratives that require tens of thousands of words to fully express? I bet those people have cleaner bedrooms than I do. Also probably more money.

Again, I’ve gotten better at this with lots of time and practice, so a lot of my earlier stuff is less well-executed than I’d want it to be. There are still ideas that I like, and stuff I’m proud of finishing, but I wouldn’t say they’re favourites, because the execution is less skillful and less polished than some newer things. With that said, though, I still have a big ol’ soft spot for Northern Lights, which was my indoctrination into the genre of ‘wildly self-indulgent crossovers and rampant canon revisionism’. Same with It Was A Dark And Stormy Night, the first multi-chaptered thing I ever finished. You can see the seeds of some classic Mary tropes in it, including ‘what if we just took all the female characters who were mentioned once and develop them into fully-realised people with important roles in this story’, as well as some tropes that have since fallen by the wayside (I do not do nearly as much with fairy tales as I did when I was a teenager).

Dreamland deserves a shot at the title, as do Reincarnation Blues and Raising Stakes. But purely for scale, ambition, and how closely the execution matches the ideal version that exists only in my head, my absolute favourite multi-chaptered fic has to be Hive. I’ve been trying to write decent horror for eleven long years and Hive makes me feel like I’ve finally nailed it. 

7) When is your preferred time to write?

Preferred time to write is from midnight to 2am. 

Best time to write is literally any other time than that, probably. 

(I’ve read all the science and the thinkpieces. I am aware that the only reason 2am seems like such a good time for creative work is because you’re tired enough that your internal self-regulation is low and your inner critic is silenced, and also because it’s often the only time when we sit down and let ourselves focus on the work with no distractions - because there aren’t any. I’m working on introducing this environment into the rest of my day so that I am not in a permanent state of sleep deprivation. Funnily enough, writing in a dimly-lit room and working on a dimmed computer screen really seems to help.) 

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Not that I can remember.

To be fair, I have received very few criticisms after posting that were about writing issues rather than matters of personal taste (and most of those have been along the lines of ‘so uh, I know you knew mentally what was going on in this scene, but the critical piece of information never actually made it to the page’). But…I also…take long enough to work on things and have so many damn things on the go that once something is posted, it’s posted, and I have to make a promise to myself to never touch it again, otherwise I would spend all my time nitpicking and never finish anything. If somebody’s noticed a legitimate issue or possible improvement, it is incredibly likely that I will go ‘oh dang why didn’t I notice that’ and then mentally file it for use in future stuff. I’ve only ever taken one fic down, and most of the edits I do after the fact are for tagging or author’s notes.

I did amend the ending of Any Misery You Choose, but that was less because I got criticism (people were actually incredibly nice about it!) and more because I was extremely dissatisfied with how the original ending turned out, because I hadn’t adhered to the plan I myself had made, because I was rushing to finish the damn thing. (Protip: don’t do that.)

(please, please, please let these actually be the first five prime numbers)

[ghostingtheinternet]

I posted 28,045 times in 2021

17 posts created (0%)

28028 posts reblogged (100%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1648.7 posts.

I added 21 tags in 2021

#nftumblcryptids - 3 posts

#toh - 2 posts

#the owl house - 2 posts

#lgbtq - 2 posts

#the owl house season 2 - 2 posts

#the owl house season two - 2 posts

#the magnus archives - 2 posts

#tma - 2 posts

#poc - 2 posts

#queer - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 109 characters

#the first one i ever remember seeing is space jam on an old tv when my family was out trying to buy a new one

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Diversity win! The Dalmatians that pushed your mom off a cliff are gay!

25 notes • Posted 2021-05-30 05:30:47 GMT

#4

I’m gonna be brave. I’m gonna say it. Martin and Jon have absolute DUMPTRUCK asses. How else would they save the world? How else could they murder Elias? I’m sorry but it is JUST not adding UP honey. They WALKED through the ENTIRE fearscape, that’s gonna build SOMETHING back there. Case closed... all of you assless Jon stans dont have rights and assless Martin stans never had rights to begin with

45 notes • Posted 2021-03-31 19:41:59 GMT

#3

So the new episode of The Owl House, huh?

Hunter is my son now. When I was a kid, I would’ve simped over him so hard, but now that I’m old, it’s just alllll the maternal instincts.

Son boy. Baby. Baby son boy. If anything ever happened to him, I’d kill belos and then kikimora and then myself.

84 notes • Posted 2021-07-17 22:07:42 GMT

#2

In response to some recent Loki posts I’ve seen:

I am a bi woman with a preference for men. I understand where people are coming from when they say that Loki and Sylvie both being bi and in a m/f relationship felt extremely validating. But you need to understand: people are not angry at that pairing BECAUSE they are both bi and in a m/f relationship (and if some are, fuck them). They’re angry because Disney would rather put a self-cest relationship between two characters that literally have the same family and genetic makeup than have an mlm relationship on screen. They’re angry because the relationship was so clearly forced by execs because boy on screen + girl on screen must always equal romance, even if they have negative amounts of romantic chemistry. They’re angry because the opportunity for the first mlm relationship in marvel history was ripped away so that they could claim they gave us representation (from lines that, while they mean the world to us, were clearly written to be easily missable for conservative viewers) without ACTUALLY having to represent the parts of us they think will stir up a fuss.

I get why you’re angry; I do. I’m so tired of feeling like I’m somehow less queer because I love men and have the option to pass as straight. But this is not the representation you want. This is scraps. Borderline Incestuous, forced-by-corporate scraps. We deserve better. We will demand better - and if we do not get better, we will make it better ourselves.

117 notes • Posted 2021-07-15 02:50:24 GMT

#1

Hey, in light of all this shit coming out about Dan, remember to not shame people or look down on them for enjoying Game Grumps before these allegations- and you know what? That goes for every franchise that gets fucked over because of a bad person(s), actually. I see so many times when another person gets called out, people are so quick to go “oh, y’all REALLY still liked them in 2021? I knew they were problematic BEFORE this, losers!” And honestly, that’s so stupid and petty. Not everyone is at your level, stop looking down on fans who didn’t know before.

And while we’re at it, stop treating people like they’re stupid for being upset or disappointed when someone they like is called out. Twitter is ablaze with “stop stanning people, that parasocial relationship is so toxic!” And yes, at a fundamental level they’re right, but so many people are misusing that language to tell people “Stop enjoying/looking up to *insert person here*, anyone who does is so stupid!” and that’s... beyond frustrating. People are allowed to like and look up to Markiplier and Jacksepticeye and all creators, that’s what they’re there for! The problem comes when there is unhealthy obsession, which is, btw, what those words are actually meant to refer to. I’m so tired of Twitter misusing terms and stretching out their actual meaning. Let people be disappointed, let people look up to others, and stop misusing actual terms for real problems before I come up there and wrestle your ass off that high horse myself.

1242 notes • Posted 2021-03-22 01:00:14 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[badrpstories]

Hey guys GUESS WHO’S BORED AND WAS REMINISCING ABOUT SOME HILARIOUS BAD RP EXPERIENCES.

Heyo Mod Anna here and let me share my tale of bad rp shit in which I am simultaneously a bad rper and still better than these guys.

First of all though, lemme just say, Mod Lup and I, not entirely in the right. We’ve grown since this incident BUT it’s still a good story so here have fun with hearing about an entire group of shitheads.

So it all begins on the offsite location that Mod Lup and I rp on. The site is in fact home to a large variety of different communities and people tend to reach out to others who they want to invite to their rps all the time. No big deal. We’ve both been invited to several and the same with other people in our community even though we’re both fairly private.

The story begins with the time that everybody in the community got an invite to one of these separate communities but me. And it was literally, every active player but me got an invite. Now being the dumb and emotionally volatile Mod Anna I am I got offended over this because my community only ever rped with my community. I was a very active part and anybody who read our posts would’ve seen I was one of the more active players. Now I’ve suspected that this was because I rped a self insert in the rp because when I’m very close to people I bring out my self insert sometimes and the fandom just happened to be the one she was a part of, and the host just happened to be my then time exboyfriend/best friend. But we’re not going to get into that. So anyways I was offended and stewed and we went through their forum and it was glorious for a laugh. I’m talking they had sexual content in every thread even if it wasn’t smut (like they didn’t know how to rp a romance without it getting sexual bad) and they had a “lemons thread” and yes you’re reading that right, a lemons thread. And it was full of awful, anatomically incorrect smut  (including a dick penetrating into the stomach) that was literally one line or less. I’m not joking one liners in smut listen I don’t smut but even I know better than to think you can smut in one line or less. And to further the bad they really didn’t seem to know source material that well.

And so we got a good laugh, I got a bit huffy at them when they finally sent me a message inviting me, and after that they were forgotten in my mind besides as the really bad rp we could laugh at occasionally.

That was at least until months later, when they were STILL harassing several members of my community to join. Including my sister. We were all starting to get annoyed, it was around 2:00 AM my time, so we finally decided to retaliate to get them to stop. First it was just a friend stealing a second account of mine I used for talking to a couple of people I didn’t want on my main account to be a bit trolly. Then a couple of friends, I’ll call them Music and Ghost got involved once the big post was deleted. Which was understandable since they were the other two members still being harassed about this rp the most (I think they’d received four messages since the initial one. My sister got three for sure. And I think another person got two.) They immediately went on and started pointing out the bad smut.

This is when Mod Lup and I got involved. Since she’s a sex repulsed ace and I’m a sex repulsed ace (although at the time I thought I was sex neutral) so we decided because we actually write more than one liners, we’d have to be better at smutting than them, which we probably are. So we went on using a set of accounts dedicated to a set of fictional brothers and said so ourselves, acting completely in character because why not? But we also very much used our actual pronouns and completely pointed out and anybody who knew the characters our paired accounts were based on would kinda know we were just acting in character. 

Then when they got all upset at us acting high and mighty over the fact that we were better smut rpers, they challenged us to a smut war. Which is far. Now Ghost and the friend who stole my alt are underaged, so we immediately banned them from the smut, so that left Music, Lup, and I. Since Lup is sex repulsed, Music and I volunteered to smut and I explained that we’d be the only ones up for the smut war because of the above reasons. So we take a couple of Lup’s ocs and actually start smutting. Now Music and I are real close so we had a lot of fun with it, worked on the buildup, spent time fleshing out the posts while continuing to chat in the ooc thread with people.

And then somebody came on and outright said that asexual people were just people who couldn’t get sex.

I was literally floored. Yes I came on and screwed with their forum but I expected them to make fun of our smut. I was ready for it. I did not expect them to say that asexuality didn’t fucking exist.

Like talk about your aphobic assholes. We left after it was clear they weren’t going to accept asexuality was real. And it was so ridiculous. I’m not saying I was in the right but at least I wasn’t bigoted either.

For the record, here are some quotes from them:

The only women we have either want to be men or don't like sex... So take your pick. (In response to Mod Lup pretending to flirt.)

“Want to be men” so they’re trans and they are men. Not want to be men.

The temptation to say asexuality is just a cop-out for those who can't get laid or choose to save themselves for marriage is increasing every time I see those words. 

I'm not saying there is no such thing as a lack of sexual attraction, because there are relationships that don't have sex in them. That's entirely up to the couple. The largest number of vocal aces though just happen to be Tumblrinas who Love to exaggerate everything. You all do you how you'd do you.

The second was the post that made me drop it, because the second isn’t a lack of sexual attraction and the fact that they used “tumblrina” was enough to prove they were an asshole.

Oh yeah, and they left this lovely gem about us:

Waluigi: A pompous douche who actually believes we believe he knows biology and is not more-than likely just a 7th grader fresh from sex ed with more Mario puns than there are Sonic games. (Side note: Likely lied about having experience other than hentai games and pornhub premium)

Ghost: Didn't get much, but he seems to be a chaotic neutral in a way. Though, this is likely derived from my knowledge on his personality being minimal at best.

Actually not a participant of our forums: One of the people who ruined Undertale for the world, as his/her post clearly states; 'if you're gonna sin you gotta do it right tho' and likely enjoys having sex with an underage goat boy.

Music: Just another random I didn't get enough info on during that little dispute. Made a few grammatical and spelling errors but I won't use that as an insult as that's the most petty form of insulting another individual. Though what I did get was that he/she is also into undertale and since she had talked about our smut being "Low quality" when she CLEARLY knows how to smut better. More-than likely on a smut forum to have sex with dog cats named 'Tem'

Yuuka Sakazaki (Mod Lup): I'm afraid I don't have much to say about this one. He/she came in, insulted our rp style in terms of our smut, said they don't like our forum, and then proceeded to try and act like they wanted to stay and be friends. A two faced bitch at the very best and likely a liar at the worst. But that's just how I took their interaction with us. Used this format rather frequently to likely signify thoughts rather than speaking out loud for some odd reason since everyone can read it.

Sakuya Le Bel Shirogane (Myself): Likely also lied about being ace since he/she stated that they've never had sex. So (Jerkwad) more-than likely hit in out of the ballpark with his comment. Also insulted us based on 'how we write our smut' and then proceeded to say he and his "Brother" had done nothing to us, even when his "Brother" claimed to have a boyfriend and "Could have sex whenever he wants" even though he said he wanted to seduce our women after saying he was, indeed, "Ace". He's likely just a two-faced liar like his "Brother" And has no place here if he's going to act like he did with his band of merry men.

Yeah I forgot to mention that they took somebody trolling as Waluigi seriously.

[lgbt-askthetics]

Hi, this isn't a request, but how do you deal with Gender Dysphoria? Like, the really bad kind

not many of the other mods felt comfortable answering this, sorry, and i dont experience physical gender dysphoria - BUT i got in a person to offer you some advice, i hope this helps!♡

for physical dysphoria:

well, depends on what you mean by really bad!! if its the kind that makes you feel sick to your stomach and feel terrible when the bits that “label” you femme/masc looking- but can be fixed with an aesthetic change- I usually dress as much as the look i’m going for. androgyne, masculine, feminine. when going masculine i wear masculine t-shirts, a size or two too big so it is slightly baggy, masks the bumps and curves, and chuck on a jumper, and baggy, straight cut jeans. greasy hair makes u look surprisingly masculine, i’ve found when looking fem i’d go with probably the opposite? I’m not sure, i don’t usually dress feminine, but when i am feeling fem, i wear skinny jeans, and a basic woman’s section shirt, or singlet

if the Dysphoria is the kind that is even worse, where just knowing that you have bits that don’t match, don’t fit, makes it feel like your skin is crawling and you can’t go out in public, or WORSE, i moreso go with wearing my binder(if mtf if you have inserts in a bra, maybe? or something similar) and i layer up as much as possible whilst still being relatively comfortable. guys shoes, jeans, long-sleeved baggy shirt. etc. if you don’t have access to those, then i’m not sure, other than wearing plain and loose clothes you have access to.

you just have to keep in mind that it’s not permanent, your inability to present how you want. managing as much as you can for as long as you can is my best advice until you can change how you’re seen.

for social dysphoria:

i tend to ridicule society by reminding myself that it is societys bullshit that causes me to feel this way, for other people to view me as fem/masc rather than the gender i identify. its not their fault, its not my fault, its ye olde days and how dresses are for girls and blue is for boys. i tell myself fuck them, fuck what they think, im probably only going to see these random strangers maybe once in my entire life, they dont matter

however, if its close family, and you are out to them, correct them as politely as you can (unless theyre being aggressive/ignorant) and inform them, no, i am [x] gender, dont matter how i dress, i am x gender. they either accept it, question it, or reject it. and frankly, please dont let the ignorant assholes remain in your life, theyre poisonous.

a person calls you she/her when you go by he/him, and you want to correct them, then do it. tell them. its not their fault; they were raised to believe x means y, but z is completely ridiculous. its not their fault thats how they were trained and ‘brainwashed’ by society..

bc thats it; your main aggressors are societal perspectives. its not the people themselves, its how they were raised/taught to think by society.

functionalist perspective: everything is interconnected to make society balanced and work better. “clothes are designed specifically for genders” “colours are assigned to genders” “women must work in hospitality/with children because they are nurturing” - aka, stereotypes are in place to make things “work better”

According to functionalism, society is a system of interconnected parts that work together in harmony to maintain a state of balance and social equilibrium for the whole.

conflict perspective: everyone is split into different groups (such as race/gender/orientation) to fight for power/control/resources “men are superior to women” “nonbinary people are snowflakes” “PoC arent as important as white people” - aka some groups of people are put down to make other people more important/keep them in power

The conflict perspective views society as composed of different groups and interest competing for power and resources. The conflict perspective explains various aspects of our social world by looking at which groups have power and benefit from a particular social arrangement.

symbolic interactionist perspective: x means y, therefore i can assume things from behaviour/appearance/opinion/etc “dresses mean girl” “being emotional is feminine” “strength is masculine” (this is all bullshit) - aka stereotypes are in place so we can make assumptions without actually asking the person 

Symbolic interactionism also suggests that our identity or sense of self is shaped by social interaction. We develop our self-concept by observing how others interact with us and label us. By observing how others view us, we see a reflection ourselves that Cooley calls the “looking glass self.”

hope this helped ♡

[unabashedempath]

Thoughts

I recently read an article written by a woman who was super self-deprecating and why she was single. And she asked her exes why she was and they said some stuff about being intimidating mostly, but one person also discussed about how she was too upfront about her struggles at once which lead to why she was still single. I agree to a certain extent with what the last person wrote, but I also disagree in a lot of ways. The idea that you have to have a veil of mystery when meeting someone is stupid, although I don’t believe you should dump all of your garbage on the first date. However, sometimes you might end up doing so… become open on “accident”; I’ve done so with some people and it was essentially something that happened spur-of-the-moment. I feel as if no one knows how to connect anymore, so anyone who is open about their faults/flaws can come off as being “too real”. In finding a long term partner, I’m starting to believe that there is no real way… it’s a process/journey that may take some time to figure out. However, I know in my personal experiences that my self-deprecation is wholly unjust and unwarranted, not for the views of other people, but for the views of myself. For the past month-and-a-half I’ve been thinking about starting a blog called “Pls Kill Me” as a joke of all my dating woes… from the time when I was fifteen and unhealthily obsessed with a more I didn’t really even like (I just wanted attention from); to a girl who had told me no and I didn’t know how to respond properly; to a couple who tried to manipulate me into a threesome and then I ended up becoming unhealthily attached to them; to a girl who I went out with but didn’t really like and just wanted her to be there; to a girl I went out with after getting help, started to like, and she randomly bailed; to a woman who didn’t have a clue what she wanted and was also hiding her lesbianism; to the woman who thought I was a “baby chicken nugget”; to the first boy I slept with and I immediately wanted something more, but I had no clue about the difference between “sex” and “intimacy”; to the guy who I slept with, “stealthed” me and then lead me to believe a friendship could happen, but all-in-all why did I stay in that??; back to that first boy; to the guy I slept with on the first date and blamed myself for everything; to the guy I only kissed once and was really afraid of my own shadow and blamed myself when he backed off; to the boy who wanted a rebound but then a relationship, but then back to a rebound and wasn’t clear about it, who then dumped me after my Uncle died; to the boy who wouldn’t leave me alone after I said no, and who, essentially, only wanted sex….

Aha - lest we forget the guy who groped me in a Target parking lot at 18; or the man who wouldn’t stop pestering me on e-mail; or that time I had a sex slave once; or all of the dudes who rolled up at me in parking lots, while I was eating dinner by myself, at the movies, the grocery store, the subway transit system; the girl who randomly hit on me at the bar and was too shy to do it, so she asked her friend to do it, but she just wanted sex, the taken/married men; the guy on Craigslist (an experimental phase, I digress) who wanted to sleep with me because-ahem, and I quote-”black girls can handle big cocks and I have a big cock”; the 40-year-old men with multiple kids who forget to tell me their age until later; and of course, my absolute favorite, the guy who filmed while I was dancing at the club with my friends….

Oh wait-there’s more… the guy who put his hands down my pants when I drunk at a rave, mind you-it was kind of fun because I was drunk… but I WAS NOT SOBER AND HE DIDN’T ASK ME… oh well; or the guys who have literally picked me up and dry-humped me while I’ve been dancing in clubs/bars with my friends…

I think that was it. (Oh yeah, and the one guy who had a crush on me but I was so clueless I didn’t even realize it) I was going to document all of these as a way to maim myself but in all actuality… at the ripe age of twenty-two… I’m not really ashamed about my dating history anymore, and I don’t really want to maim myself about it. I’d like to be honest about it, but not in a way that puts me down… as I look back at all of them (I.e. most of these experiences were from online) I’ve learned a lot about people from all of them. I shouldn’t brand myself as ‘forever single’ because of these experiences… or as bad, or ‘undateable’, or whatever… they were all experiences that taught me something about how people work.

I’m not sure about marriage, kids, the future, settling down - I believe we are too focused on that as a whole. We are too focused on marketing ourselves to be a certain way, or that certain things mean something, or that whatever, blah, blah, blah. I used to think that this dating history, my mental health, codependency, the fact that I have been sexually assaulted, the fact that I’ve been hospitalized for things, the fact that I’ve struggled to set boundaries in the past (and somewhat in the present) were bad things…

I’M SUPPOSED TO BE PERFECT, DAMN IT. GET IT TOGETHER.

But… I’m not…. and there really is no rush in getting into a relationship. Like. At. Any. Age.

If you aren’t in a relationship at fifty, but you have a job that pays your bills, and you give back, and you’re focused on prioritizing the greater good for humanity and the rest of the world, and you’re just not an asshole, and you’re smart and kind and funny and awesome, why does it matter if you don’t have a family, kids, husband, wife, etc.? It doesn’t fucking matter.

Or, what if you don’t understand social cues and you’re autistic and functioning with the demands of dating is stressful for you and you don’t understand boundaries… and you just end up being alone…. who cares?

I don’t mind the idea of being forever alone anymore… even though I’m sure that one day I might meet someone of note but if I don’t… I’ll have a lifetime of adventure and possibility and vulnerability and honesty… sheer, in your fucking face honesty that makes everyone uncomfortable and angry and feel intimidated and weird because that women didn’t do anything wrong by sharing her faults in that article. I do expect effort from people… not a façade. No one measures up to that veil of mystery… that is why you will attempt to do the right thing over-and-over and you could still me a jerk who will manipulate you, or not really want to be with you, or cheat on you, or “insert-reason-here”.

For me personally, I have new boundaries now and while I’m currently waiting to have sex, or kiss, until I meet someone of note, just because I learned that from previous experiences, who knows… that might change. I’m not setting rules for some stupid new dating trick; I’m just doing what is comfortable for me. But… who knows-I might meet someone who I feel this amazing spark with and sleep with. I might take a risk. Who. Fucking. Knows. There might be something that I haven’t learned just yet that I need to find.

But life is life and if you are single…it’s not so bad… it’s not the end of the world… there’s nothing wrong with you… and there may not be someone out there for you but it’s because you are unique, and rad, and cool. And real. Just totally real.

[bitchninthekitchnnn]

Women Puddin’ Other Women Down

I’m going to bitch about a topic that’s really been grinding my gears lately: women putting other women down. But before I get started, I wanted to talk about the Women’s March that happened last weekend on Saturday January 21st.

IT. WAS. AWESOME.

I participated in the Denver, Colorado march. My roommates and I got up at the crack of dawn, drove to Denver (we live in Boulder) and marched from morning ‘til afternoon.

Everything about the day was exhilarating. We chose to drive to Denver because the line for the RTD bus at the Boulder station wrapped around the block (this was at 7:15AM, hours before the march was supposed to start). As we drove down route 36, we saw floods of people along each bus stop, faces and signs bright from the reflection of the pink sunrise.

After we found a parking spot in Denver, we stopped for a caffeine fix at Pablo’s Coffee. We waited in line for 40 minutes with dozens of other marchers to find that our coffee and breakfast treats had been covered for all participating in the march. As we made our way to the capital, the streets were flooded with caring, loving, progressive, strong people, all eager to hit the streets.

The morning had a slow start. We were at a standstill for about 2 hours. The reason being: there were SO. MANY. PEOPLE. I was delightfully surprised by the outcome, and the amount of men in the crowds! There were people of all different races, ages, sexual orientations and disabilities, out in Denver on a chilly morning making our voices heard.

The city of Denver expected 40,000 people to come through. As of right now, it’s estimated somewhere around 200,000. We showed up. We made a difference. We sprawled through city, together, peacefully, and proudly. For the first time since election night, I’ve felt hopeful.

Now let’s get down to bitchin’.

Women putting other people down. There are sooooo many examples of this, but here’s a few to get started:

-Women talking shit about another woman's sexual history (IE: She has threesomes on the reg. She must not respect herself.)

-Women outwardly questioning another’s makeup and wardrobe choices (IE: You’re wearing that?)

-Women insulting another female for their life choices (IE: making stay at home moms feel like they’re not politically woke because they chose be at home with their families).

-Women commenting on your breakfast choices (IE: wow, that is A LOT of bacon).

-Women pointing out social interactions (IE: She’s always looking for attention. I feel bad for her).

The list goes on. Why do we do this?

Throughout high school, my weight fluctuated frequently. I had an extra 30-40 pounds on me during my freshman and sophomore year. Stress and an overwhelming sense of low self worth made me overeat. By the end of junior year I was tired of hating my body, and started “dieting” (aka starving myself) to feel pretty. And hey, it worked! Boys started looking at me in ways I wasn’t used to, friends complimented me and encouraged me to “keep it up!”

I was grossly thin. I was always tired. I was obsessed with running for miles, and then stepping onto my bathroom scale right afterwards to see how much weight I’d lost during the run. Yeah. It was messed up.

Enter grandma. She lived next door to me when I was growing up, and was present for most of my childhood. She was a firecracker of a woman who I loved very much. She was also incredibly shallow. To be fair, she grew up during a time where your dress size determined your entire self worth. That mindset was certainly perpetuated onto all of her daughters, and granddaughters.  

During the time I was losing weight, she always had a positive comment, and, like my friends, encouraged me to “keep it up!” I would walk over her house after school, you know, for some standard gram time. She greeted me at the door with a full body scan, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I knew I looked up to her standards with the first words that came out of her mouth. If I was looking slim, she would say “Carla, you look so beautiful!” as she held the screen door open. If I had a couple extra pounds (which I swear to god, she could pick up on like a hawk) she would grimace and say, “Hello.” The interaction started to stress me out so much that I stopped visiting her solo. I’d only cross the yard when my sister, mom, dad or boyfriend at the time could be the buffer. And go through the door first.

Why do women do this to each other? NY Times puts it eloquently:

We aren’t competing with other women, ultimately, but with ourselves — with how we think of ourselves. For many of us, we look at other women and see, instead, a version of ourselves that is better, prettier, smarter, something more. We don’t see the other woman at all.

(https://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/01/opinion/sunday/why-women-compete-with-each-other.html)

Women have it ROUGH. Like so many other minorities, we’ve have to fight for every single right we have. Life would be a little sweeter if us ladies stopped comparing, judging, belittling each other for our choices. Next time you’re thinking about making a comment that’s meant to knock a woman down a peg, think about where the root of that comment is coming from, and work on those insecurities instead.

NOW LET’S GET TO THE KITCHN’.

Picking Women Up, Not Puddin’ Them Down

Lavender Lemon Pudding with Honey Poached Pears and Candied Lemons

OG recipe from Cafe Johnsonia: http://cafejohnsonia.com/2013/10/lavender-panna-cotta-honey-poached-pears.html

Total time: 1 hour 5 mins // Serves: 6-8

Alright, technically this a recipe for *panna cotta,* but they’re essentially the same thing. Pudding feels less intimidating and in all truth I just couldn’t let go of the name.

This recipe is easy, it just takes time. There’s just a lot of steps, and a good amount of throwin’ shit together. It’s not that bad, I promise!

For lavender lemon pudding:

3 Tablespoons cold water

one package gelatin

1¾ cups heavy cream

1¼ cups whole milk

½ cup sugar

1 teaspoon lavender buds

1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or ½ vanilla bean, scraped)

For honey poached pears:

3 slightly under-ripe pears, cored and peeled, cut into quarters

½ cup water

¼ cup honey

Juice of 1 large lemon

Peel of one large lemon cut into strips (I used a vegetable peeler to create long strips and cut them into thinner strips with a sharp knife)

1 teaspoon lavender buds

1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise down the middle

pinch sea salt

For candied lemon peel:

Reserved poaching liquid, only pears removed

¼ cup granulated sugar or evaporated cane juice

For lavender lemon pudding:

Have ready 6-8 custard cups or ramekins. (You can lightly oil them if you plan on turning them out onto a plate, it helps them release better.) Place the ramekins in a 9- by 13-inch baking dish or on a rimmed baking sheet. Set aside.

Place the cold water in a small bowl and sprinkle the gelatin on top. Let soften for 5-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine heavy cream, milk, sugar, and lavender in a medium saucepan. Heat gently, stirring to dissolve sugar, until the mixture just comes to a boil. Remove from heat and add the softened gelatin. Place back on the stove and heat gently until the gelatin is completely dissolved, about 2-3 minutes.

Stir in the vanilla and strain through a fine mesh sieve into a large measuring cup with a spout. Pour about ½ cup of the mixture into the ramekins. (There might be some leftover depending on the size of the ramekins.) Let stand until cooled to room temperature, then cover the ramekins with plastic wrap and place in the fridge for several hours to chill until set.

For honey poached pears:

Place the pears, water, honey, lemon juice and peel. lavender and vanilla bean in a small sauce pan Bring to a simmer and cook until pears are just tender, stirring occasionally and making sure the bottom doesn't burn. (If it does start to burn, the heat is way too high. It should just barely simmer.)

The pears will probably need between 30-45 minutes to properly poach. Check for doneness by inserting the tip of a sharp knife into one of the pears. If it goes in easily, then the pears are done. If not, cook for a few more minutes. Remove the pears and place them in a bowl to cool. Reserve the poaching liquid and other ingredients.

For the candied lemon peel:

Bring the poaching liquid to a boil and then lower the heat a bit and continue cooking until the liquid reduces and become syrupy, an additional 15 minutes or so. Remove the lemon peel from the syrup, letting as much of the syrup drip back into the pan as possible.

Reserve the remaining syrup to use as a sauce when serving. Place the sugar in a shallow bowl and add the lemon peel to the bowl and roll until coated. Set the zest aside to finish cooling. You may need to roll them in the sugar several times. Set them aside until serving time.

To serve:

Either serve the pudding still in the ramekin or carefully loosen it from the mold with a thin knife and turn upside down on a plate. Top with 3-4 pear slices and drizzle with some of the syrup and top with a few strips of candied lemon peel.

Note from the “editor”:

Carla is one of the best people. She’s got it all going on. She has the most beautifully curated Instagram, the best fucking attitude I could ever hope to steal for myself. Follow her if you feel like you need some feel good posts in your social media. I love her. She’s the best. 

As a woman, life is already hard. We should spend more time lifting each other up rather than puddin’ each other down just to feel a little more ahead. This goes for everything. The basic lesson in intersectional feminism really. We all can’t get ahead if everyone is pushing everyone else down. It just doesn’t work like that. Getting your own self image and worth to a good point is so damn hard anyway. Ugh. Anyway, Carla, youre beautiful. I love your mind. Reader, You’re beautiful, and I love you for being here. 

If you want to write for this blog, just let me know! There are submission guidelines HERE Bitch it to me ladies.