#torn between wanting people to see this and the inevitable harassment I will get if it is seen

[raskies456]

progressives will really be like “oh yeah we’re not antisemitic unlike those evil money grubbing capitalists controlling the government and all those academics that spit on the common man and tell lies from their ivory towers. also if you point out antisemitism on the left I’m gonna assume you are mad that someone said israel was bad because obviously if you’re Jewish you support israel. Also what else could you be talking about? I haven’t personally seen any antisemitism on the left so obviously it doesn’t exist, and if someone did say something antisemitic it’s bc they’re actually a sock puppet and not a real leftist. Also you used the word goy so nothing you say is valid btw”

[wispforever]

if youre still doing the character thing, how about spirit or marie?

I sure am. How about Spirit And Marie? Both wonderful characters. I’ll do Marie first, then Spirit. Thanks for the excuse to infodump, really. You people are too kind.

Marie Mjolnir

My first impression of Marie was the same impression I get of most female characters in anime. It’s either “why do their clothes have to look like that” or “oh god here comes the obligatory sexist heteronormative romance”. For Marie, it was more of the second. They mention in the same episode she’s introduced that Stein is her “first love”, which told me that if she had a large place in the plot, her assigned male counterpart around which to orbit would be him. Though I’ve never read the Soul Eater manga, I believe they do end up getting together there (I could be wrong). Whatever the case, I was relieved that Marie’s and Stein’s relationship (though heavily implied to be romantic, at least on Marie’s side) was left open to interpretation in the anime. I’m just very sick of cool badass female characters like Marie being reduced to the man they pine after. So, I guess my first impression of Marie and my impression of her now are largely the same. While I appreciate the moments we get to see her strengths and ability to operate on her own, I do think that her character really suffers because of the whole sexist “oh gosh all I want is to find a husband and retire” “oh my I have to take care of Stein” like okay, I had enough at the cat girl smothering Soul with her humungo-tits. I had enough at sexualizing underage girls and women in general. I had enough at making sexual harassment a punchline. That being said, when we push all of the shitty writing to the side, I admire Marie for her strength and how she interacts with the children, Crona in particular. Which leads me to my favorite moment(s).

The relationship Crona and Marie have interests me the most, since I’m really drawn to the parallels between Marie and Medusa. As parental figures (and as characters), they’re about as different as you can get. As Crona’s mother, Medusa is obviously abusive. Along with being negligent, she abuses Crona mentally, emotionally, and physically. In general, Medusa is a person who doesn’t appear to value interpersonal relationships, putting it nicely. She instead is more focused on her own interests, often to the detriment of those around her. Crona is Medusa’s only immediate family (besides Arachne who she is estranged from), and so they suffer the most from her refusal to show even a shred of human decency or warmth. They suffer especially because they are her child, meaning they’re stuck with her essentially, and repetivie abuse between family members like a mother and child often becomes complex because of the necessity of having a parental figure in your life to support you as you grow up. Medusa teaches Crona that their boundaries don’t matter and that they are only good as long as they are useful and do as they’re told. This is what makes Marie’s influence on Crona so cool to watch. Marie is caring by nature, loving and nurturing by nature. Her very wavelegnth is healing. She is kind and does what’s right reflexively. Marie is the exact embodiment of what Crona always needed but what, even upon being rescued by the academy, still felt so foreign to them: unconditional love. Crona struggles to understand why the other kids helped them, why Maka felt the inclination to stop their battle and save Crona instead by trying to understand them, why the kids are still so kind to them even after everything. They do not understand that love is not a bargaining chip. It isn’t leverage in an argument. It’s not a tool for emotional manipulation. Love is caring for the people close to you, just because. Love for the sake of love. The other kids and teachers at the academy are the ones who are able to pull Crona out of all Medusa’s lies, and Marie is a Huge part of that. Even though I have greivances with this being the largest part of her character and what that implies for female characters in general, it doesn’t stop being so beautiful to me that she could help Crona heal in this way. Marie = best mom for the win

Most of the story ideas I have for Marie involve her relationship with Crona or Stein. Say, this covers my unpopular opinion too. I don’t like Stein and Marie as a couple, but I really enjoy writing them as friends, because even though I don’t really jive with them being together romantically, I think their dynamic is an interesting one to explore because they Are so different.

Getting into that a little bit more, I’d like to start by saying I don’t care if other people like Stein and Marie being a couple. That’s great doods, keep doing you. The fanart’s adorable, the meta’s fantastic. Whoever you are, SteinMarie shippers, ffs keep kicking ASS. This is just my preference and opinion. Zero shade in this house. That said, because of my frustrations about Marie’s character I discussed in the first paragraph, I don’t like the idea of her and Stein being together romantically. It’s really a classic sexist trope: the troubled man and his sweet nurse. I’m also just fed up in general with the hetero-nonsense, so there. However, they are both wonderful characters that I enjoy very much seperately. Also, I think it’s worth mentioning that I’ve only seen the anime, so I can’t speak for the manga as far as their relationship or Marie’s character in general.

Oh shit I accidentally already talked about this one lmao [see the second paragraph]

One headcanon I like to think about when I’m writing Marie is that she likes women (in addition to men or not) and she struggles with comphet. Just something interesting I like to think about. It’s really fun for me to take characters who have been written as pining or had 10 million failed relationships and be like “say what if they can’t find a husband cuz really what they really need is a wife”. I’ll talk about that more with Spirit inevitably.

Spirit Albarn

My first impression of Spirit, obviously him being a cheater, really came with a lot of distaste. I come from a family that was torn apart by infidelity, among other things, so it really rubs me the wrong way. However, his saving grace for me was that he genuinely loves his daughter. It appears that, whether it’s played for laughs or not, he just can’t find fulfillment in his romantic relationships. The reason is left up to the veiwers. Spirit, ultimately, is not just a shitty person, which is how most cheaters are protrayed in media. “Well, they cheated because they don’t care if they hurt people”, “they cheated because they are shit and that’s it”. That’s a fine explanation if you plan to do nothing with whatever character you’re describing, but Spirit is relatively recurring and is shown to be neither mean-spirited or emotionally unintelligent. It bothers me that his cheating and routine sexist behaviour isn’t taken seriously enough to be a subject that Soul Eater tackles and deals with. But that’s fine. I’ll just do it myself. At any rate, I still feel that same way about Spirit’s character, but I find it intriguing that he seems to genuinely want to become a better father and is actually a pretty good dad when it comes to his interactions with Maka. If Soul Eater had been brave enough to develop him more, maybe delve into the reasoning behind his impulsive romantic affairs, I think Spirit as a character could have been done more justice. It seems to me that he could be suffering from some of that wonderful compulsory heterosexuality that I mentioned before, then becoming confused when the woman he claims to love leaves him feeling empty. Rattling my gay little cage

When I think of my favorite moments with Spirit, I think of his moments with Maka, but I’m gonna hold off on that until I get to favorite relationship(s). In reference to what I talked about in the first paragraph, one moment I find really interesting when I’m thinking about my interpretation of Spirit’s character is the scene where he and Maka are on the roof talking. Maka asks Spirit why he cheated on her mother if he did, in fact, love her. He doesn’t appear to know the answer, and he doesn’t really understand how to effectively communicate that, though he was shitty husband, what he really wants now is to try and be a better dad. We hear his inner monologue, and he says something like “I love you [Maka] and your mama. That’s the truth. That’s the truth. That’s the truth.” Every time he says “its the truth” it sounds more like he’s forcing it. This is actually something that is SO strange to me. Even if I didn’t project a queer narrative on to the characters I love, I would look at this and be like “huh that is a Weird thing to say in that specific way”. Why does he say it like that? Why does he have to say it more than once? He’s only talking to HIMSELF. It isn’t like he’s trying to convince Maka. Why does he have to convince himself?? Could it possibly be because he’s reached a conclusion about his romantic/sexual orientation that he’s been trying to swallow his Entire Life??? makes ya wonder, doesn’t it, queers?

Just like I said when I talked about Stein, most of the stories I have in mind with Spirit center around that sweet gayness. But also, I like to think of ways Spirit could come to terms with his sexuality, how it might have affected him when he was young, his relationship with all these women, with his wife. I love to think about him being a dad at 18 and trying his best, but how much responsibility that must have been. Lots of great ideas when it comes to Spirit.

Um? unpopular opinion would be all the standard like I said with Stein lmao. “Oh no!” scream the heteros, “that they/them on tumblr is making Soul Eater queer we canst not allow that in our church!!!111!” But besides that, maybe even the fact that I think he’s redeemable?? Idk most everyone I’ve met thinks Spirit is funny at least and just calls him a dumbass and a slut (affectionate). Doesn’t mean anybody thinks cheating on your wife 56 times is okay so. I like this fandom, it’s chill here. My favorite is when I see my art tagged like “aw the stupid man and his crazy bf” like YOU ARE RIGHT

My favorite relationship when it comes to Spirit (besides Stein cuz if I start talking about them again I’ll never finish this ask) is the one he has with Maka. If you can call it a relationship lol. I guess I just find Spirit’s approach to Maka as a parent really refreshing. Not that the parents in other shows don’t love their kids or whatever, it’s just that the loving parent always seems to be paired with some other trope that makes their character hard to approach. especially in anime. Like the perfect mother who dies in the first episode, and we spend the rest of the show mourning her. Or the father whose love is somehow everlasting even though he’s never home. It’s really the fact that Spirit is even THERE that I love. He knows what Maka is up to. He talks about her. He’s invested in her life, and he loves her. All he wants is to spend time with her, and though he’s sad when she turns him down, he doesn’t push her. god dammit I just like a dad who actually loves his kids without all the usual strings attached like. oh my kids are a huge pain in my ass, but I love them in spite of it. oh i’m a man so can’t relate to my children in a meaningful way but i try. Get the fuck outta here with that shit. I want all the dads to get so happy when their daughters wanna hang with them that they throw up like Spirit. Give me the guy who loves his daughter so naturally, whose daughter is such a huge part of his life, that it doesn’t even occur to him stop trying even if she literally wants to murder him. That’s Spirit. jfc

To end with a cute little headcanon, I really love to think that when Spirit gets older and starts losing the color in his hair, instead of getting white or grey, his hair turns a pale pink color cuz he’s such an aggressive redhead. Wouldn’t that just be adorable? late 30′s, early 40′s, Spirit starts getting little pink streaks in his hair and then bam. Little pink old man Spirit XD

There ya have it. Thanks for the ask, and feel free to send more.

[carpathxanridge]

im so torn between deep empathy for elliot page and... continued disappointment. i want her to be happy with transition, i really do, but she looks pained. i couldn’t read that interview and look at those photos without feeling a deep sense of turmoil, especially when the article discussed her early acting career and discomfort with being sexualized and forced to be feminine. that breaks my heart because i get it, really. feeling like your body isn’t your own, being sexually harassed and objectified all while dealing with internalized and external homophobia... i can’t even imagine how much her dysphoria was exacerbated by working in such a misogynistic industry, where her body was a product for consumption in a somewhat literal sense.

but there comes a point where i have to say... i feel for her, i really really hope she’s okay, but the way she’s using her platform is unacceptable. “Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. ‘We know who we are,’ Page says. ‘People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.’” it’s entirely dishonest in its framing of these issues. for example, the part about her wanting to play in boys’ sports as a kid... does she not understand that it was fair and acceptable because she’s female? like oh my god there is a difference between ‘playing up’— in age or in sex division— and playing down which is not allowed for a reason. fuck, my childhood soccer team (which i was already playing up by a year in) occasionally arranged to play against boys’ teams, or girls’ teams two years older. and my sister played baseball in a boys’ league because she didn’t want to play softball. those situations are completely different from males playing in women’s and girls’ leagues where they have a clear unfair advantage, and u have to be an idiot to compare the experiences.

and then the suicide guilting part of the interview... what happened to telling queer youth “it gets better?” instead you’re creating an alarmist narrative that trans people will be inevitably driven to suicide if they can’t medically transition. and it’s so fucked when you know statistically that there’s no real evidence that medical transition reduces suicidality. but most random people reading this in time don’t know that, all they hear is “trans people r killing themselves and we can help them by allowing them to transition!” because the argument is presented in this way, there’s no room for thought to whether any of this is evidence based treatment. no recognition to many trans and detrans people alike speaking out against the negative health effects, no consideration of who profits off of the medicalization of gender nonconformity, no skepticism or desire to protect trans people from medical abuse. and then the trans kids argument... that argument alone is so manipulative and misrepresented that i can’t give the benefit of the doubt that elliot is saying all this in good faith, i can’t help but wonder what imperative has driven her to speak so strongly and without nuance on this issue.

and then you frame acceptance of gender identity as accepting human complexity?? when gender critical feminists recognize that all people are complex and don’t fit into sex-based stereotypes. we aren’t the ones trying to put people in boxes. and no, i don’t think you’re “mistaken about who you are,” elliot. in fact, i hope you’re happy with transition and don’t come to regret it, just as i hope the same for all my trans friends. i just don’t believe that your own identity and self-conception should precede my right to talk about and name sex-based oppression, should precede the rights of all women and girls to safety, privacy, bodily autonomy. i reject the idea that having clear definitions of sex and sexuality are somehow clinging to outdated ideas. i believe that the desire for legal and ideological clarity isn’t a meaningless pursuit. and you’d realize that radical feminists’ ideas about gender are actually not “rigid” at all if you listened to what we are saying. we’re saying you can do what you want, express yourself how you want, present socially as a man and ask for your dysphoria to be accommodated interpersonally... all while being female, while being a woman.

i’m really sad that elliot’s realty causes her so much pain. i wish her healing and i hope that the choices she’s made will bring her happiness and comfort and relief. and health! i wish her wellbeing, both physical and mental. and i wish the same for all trans people. but i think we can balance those wishes with acceptance of the reality of biological sex.

also it should go without saying not to mock a gnc woman’s appearance jesus fuck. if you think her haircut looks like a little boy, think about the fact that a lot of butch lesbians have faced the same mockery. ive literally been insulted in the exact same way by homophobic bullies in high school lmaoo. when you mock someone for their appearance, even if you think they deserve it or aren’t impacted by it because of their celebrity status, you’re also mocking all the people reading it who share those traits (e.g. gender nonconformity.) and if you’re saying she looks emaciated and sick and speculating disordered eating... literally don’t. like i get it bc seeing her photos i thought she didn’t look at all healthy or happy and it made my heart break for her. but jesus fuck don’t speculate about people’s bodies and eating behaviors, especially vulnerable dysphoric women’s.

[anais-shirley]

AWAE Theory for S3 e7 - Emotions, Emotions, Emotions

The cast of AWAE warned us and they were unanimous: the main theme for this season is “INTENSITY”! We have experienced it with the first 6 episodes, and we WILL continue to experience it until the end of the season! It is no coincidence that Frankenstein drives the themes this season. Anne is on a quest to know more about herself, but as she’s putting the pieces together, new events will make old trauma resurface. And like the Frankenstein monster, these memories will torment her and bring her to a tipping point.

Release the Monster!

A new promo has been released, and GIFs of new scenes are already flooding. Anne looks devastated and enraged! We know that episode 7 will follow-up on Josie’s sexual harassment. Anne will have to defend her friend on her own since nobody else understand the trauma (not even fucking Gilbert), and this lonely battle might bring back memories of her past abuse.

We already know that she was bullied and sexually harassed at the orphanage. We also know that she witnessed the Hammonds “petting the mouse”. What if there is darker secrets in Anne’s past? Young orphans are the most vulnerable to being abused, and Anne is no exception. What if Mr. Hammond, given his propensity for violence and alcohol, has done worse than beating her with a belt? What if the extent of the bullying at the orphanage is way worse than a dead mouse and a lick on her face? And let’s not forget the inquiry letter she sent to Scotland to get information about her parents. What if the response she receives contains painful information about her origins? I know these are dark topics, and fans of the original Anne will feel outraged and betrayed, but given the promo footage and the dark themes in Frankenstein, I cannot find any other reasons to explain such release of anger from Anne.

 Anne is Dr. Frankenstein AND the monster. She created Princess Cordelia, a fantasy character that drove her to become the person she currently is, to offset the “monster” in her. But the “monster” is awaking and does not like its condition. An internal battle between Princess Cordelia and the “monster” is inevitable. My biggest fear is how Anne will handle her resurfacing trauma. That scene where she violently throws something is concerning! We’ve never seen her overwhelmed with so much anger, and I’m torn by the idea that these emotions might drive her to contemplate death (as Matthew did at the end of s1). I honestly hope that this won’t happen because I know it would break my heart to see Anne like that, but these dark topics are also part of the many problems that teenagers face, but not many people want to discuss. And knowing Moira, she will not shy away from important taboo topic.

There is some silver linings though! If the Shirbert pattern continue in the same direction (you know! ep1: Shirbert, ep2: no Shirbert, ep3: Shirbert, etc.), we can expect an exceptional Shirbert bonding moment during the episode.

Again, share your thoughts!

[sakurasangcl]

Come Back

Pairing: werewolf!Jaehyun x reader

Word Count: 2.3k 

Warning: sexual harassment, possible rape (didn’t happen: Y/N wakes up in Jaehyun’s shirt in his bed)

Moonlight Symphony Masterlist

On the Friday after your 21st birthday, you and your friends went out to celebrate. You went to a dancing club to drink and have fun. Unfortunately for you, hindsight is 20/20. You should have eaten more and better food, as well as made sure to keep a (sober) friend with you at all times. Regretting things can't change the past, and you know this well. 

After one drink, you were a little tipsy. After two, you were drunk. Your vision wasn't too blurry, but everything was hilarious. A few drinks later and you couldn't quite walk straight and your words were a little slurred. 

"Hey," you tell your nearest friend. "I'm gonna go outside for some fresh air." 

And you do just that. Your heels click on the scuffed up wooden floor as you opened the door and took in the night breeze. 

You didn't notice the men who followed you outside until the spoke up. 

"Hey girl, what's your name?" One of them asked. 

"Y/n," you absentmindedly say.

"That's a sexy name. Did you come here by yourself?" A different one spoke. 

"Nope." You respond, popping the ‘p.’ 

If you weren't so drunk, you would have noticed the anxious looks they tossed around. 

"Do you want to come home with me?" One of them boldly asked, resting his hand on your hip. "I doubt who you came with would mind. I'll treat you well." 

"Any of us-" the second guy started.

"Or all of us," someone else interrupted. 

"Would treat you well," He finished.

You weakly shake your head no and turn to head inside. However, the one gripping your waist held you still. 

"Come on baby, why so prude, hmm? I'll make you feel real good, promise." He says, rubbing circles with his thumbs. 

Suddenly a rather muscular, attractive man appears. He growls and pulls you into him, and you swear he calls you his girlfriend. But before you can figure anything out, you pass out. 

When you wake up in the morning, the night before is a blur. You immediately notice that you're not in your own room, nor in that if a friend's. You look around and see the most attractive man in bed next to you. He's deeply asleep, and has the body of Michelangelo's statue of David, but better. 

A thrill of fear runs through you as you sit up to get out of bed and you're wearing just a shirt that definitely wasn't yours, considering that it was too big on you. 

Did we have sex last night? You cant… you cant properly consent when you're drunk… Did we at least use a condom? Shouldn't I be a little sore?

You had many unanswered questions as you quietly gather your things, hoping not to disturb the sleeping man. You quickly change back into your clothes, leaving his shirt on the floor. 

When you leave his room, you find yourself in a house full of boys. You turn red and keep your head down, feeling horrid. They look at you, surprised. One of them tries to say something to you, but you quickly leave before the chance is given. 

It makes sense why they're called the walk of shame…

You make it outside and find out that you really aren't in the city anymore. So, you call an uber and make it home. 

You don't talk to any of your friends about what happened… nor does it really seem like they know or remember themselves. Of course, most of them drank a lot, thought someone else took you home, or thought you went home with someone. One of your friends saw you leave with a hot, muscular guy. 

You didn't say much to anyone after that, and the same friend that saw you leave with the guy you woke up with, Yeri, was afraid that you were falling into a depressive episode. Because of who she was, you couldn't avoid her forever.

Yeri ended up showing up at your work right when you were leaving. She grabbed your arm with her surprisingly strong grip, and starts guiding you to a nearby coffee shop.

"I know you're stressed and going through a lot, so we are getting coffee and talking. And I know you have some extra spending cash because you house sat the other week." Yeri began, guiding you to the line. 

The intoxicating smell of coffee calms you for the time being, letting you relax a little. 

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" She softly asks you, moving up in line. 

"I know," you murmur, looking up at the menu. "But I just don't always know the words for what I need to say." It was then that you notice one of the baristas is extremely familiar. Your eyes widen in surprise and you look away blushing. It was the hot guy you woke up next to. 

"Earth to y/n, earth to y/n. Is everything okay?" Yeri asks, concerned. 

You gulp and nod as you realize your next in line, and he is the one taking orders. 

You shyly step up and order a green tea latte, not meeting his eyes. "What's your name?" He asks, and it sounds more like him being genuine than just needing to write it down on the cup.

"Y/n," you tell him, glancing up at his handsome face. 

He then asks you to spell your name and you do, glancing at his nametag that said 'Jaehyun.' He smiles brightly, dimples showing. "Alright. Thank you y/n. I can help who is next in line."

You stay rooted in your spot, your eyebrows knitting together. You hadn't paid for your drinks. You were about to say something when he adds, "Don't worry about it. It's my treat, okay?" 

You mutely nod and go wait for your drink and Yeri, dazed. 

A younger man calls your name, and he smiles at you as you take your drink. On it is numbers  you make it out to be a phone number. You look quizzically at the guy who gave you your drink, and he grins and points to the mysterious hottie, Jaehyun. You nod slightly and head to Yeri's side, going and sitting at a table. 

You two start conversing, and she pries you and gets you talking some. Eventually, she brought up the inevitable.

"So the barista. The one who wrote their number on your cup. He's the one you went home with." Yeri says, looking at him suspiciously. 

"Yeah, apparently…" you admit, not denying what must have happened.

"Do you not remember?" She asks, suddenly worried. "If he drugged you I don't care how big he is. I will fight him."

You shake your head no. "I was just drunk. Besides, I'm sure plenty of girls are head over heels for him and he's super hot. He could easily get laid if he wanted to."

"You're not wrong. But still, you did end up with him. That's suspicious." 

"I suppose he must have just changed me… that's why I thought we did something. My period came and went, so everything is fine that way. But I really don't know…"

"Wait, like he changed your clothes?" 

"Well, yeah…" 

"What the fuck?! No. So not okay," she says, standing up and about to march over to yell at him. 

"Please don't, Yeri. I'm as confused as you," You softly beg. 

"Fine, but I'm asking Joohyun if she knows him. But judging by his age.. I'll ask Sooyoung instead. If anyone knows anything, its her," Yeri derisively responds. She then sends a quick text before giving you her full attention. "Do you want to go over what you remember? I'm pretty sure Soyeon said she saw you leave with a guy… that's why I wasn't worried. But honestly, knowing you, I should have been. I feel bad I wasn't more cautious over you. I was too busy being the mom friend for everyone else. I hate being the mom friend," Yeri grumbles. 

You can't help but laugh at her rant, as it was true. No one liked taking the role of the mom friend when everyone was drinking. Yeri was just stuck with it as the designated driver. 

"I just… the last thing I remember was going outside for air. My head got clouded and there were some guys… then one guy, probably…" you gesture to Jaehyun, "since I woke up in his bed… called me his girlfriend. That's all I remember besides waking up. I made the walk of shame! I hated it!" You admit, glancing around to make sure no one heard you. 

When Yeri's phone buzzes, she reads the notification. "Sooyoung says he's a good guy, and really not interested in most girls... Maybe you're his perfect type? Okay, she said he isn't a player and is both overly confident and awkward as hell around girls. It varies. She also says he's not the kind to do the deed when drunk." 

"Did you tell her what I said?" You demand of your best friend, upset and turning red.

"Kind of? I asked about him and if he was a player especially around drunk people. She's not that thick headed to not know what happened at the party," Yeri explains.

Your shoulders slump in defeat and you nod, knowing Yeri was right. However, Sooyoung's response left you with more questions than before. 

"I can't- I don't know-" you try to let Yeri understand your frustration. You want to know the answers as to what happened, but at the same time, you're afraid of what they could be. You let out a heavy sigh as you formulate a proper sentence. "I want to know but I'm also afraid to find the truth," you tell her, fear clawing at your stomach. 

"I totally understand that. But wouldn't it be nice if nothing happened and it's just a misunderstanding?" Yeri suggests gently. "I mean, there's no harm in at least texting him. He obviously remembers you. Maybe he just wants to clear the air." 

You know Yeri doesn't mean to pressure you in a negative way, and she always seems to have your best interest in mind. This time… well, it feels different. You're torn between giving this man a bit of trust or doing your best to never see him again. You can't differentiate what your stomach is telling you or your head. You were completely conflicted. 

You start to feel overwhelmed, and your brain goes to autopilot. You listen to what Yeri said and type out a message to Jaehyun, that read: 

Hi. This is Y/N.

You know he wont reply right away since he is working, but you try to ignore the impulsivity of what you did and do your best not to regret it. 

"Well there's that…" you mumble, setting your phone on the table.

Less than a minute later, your phone buzzes anyways. 

Hey Y/N! Sorry, my coworker put my number on your cup… My name is Jaehyun, by the way. I’m sorry things ended up like this.

Would you maybe like to meet sometime so I can try to explain?

“What do you think I should do, Yeri?” you ask, showing her your phone and trying not to cry. 

“Give it to me. I’ll have Seulgi go with you. Does that sound good? You know how intimidating she can be when she wants, you know?” Yeri gently says, typing a response. “I have your back. We all do.” 

You nod and help Yeri figure out the logistics. Jaehyun isn’t even bothered by you asking to bring a friend. 

When you finally did agree to meet Jaehyun in person, you wore simple clothes. You had Yeri with you, and she was being very protective and careful with you. 

Jaehyun felt a pang in his heart, because he knew he messed up. He should have left you in his bed without him, but he couldn’t leave you. Not when you smelt like them. Looking at you with Yeri by your side, he could scent your fear and unease. He smiled sweetly at the two of you, and greeted you both. You were outside on campus, sitting at one of the tables outside. 

“Y/N, there’s a lot I need to explain to you,” he gently begins, glancing at Yeri. 

She smiled slightly, because she knew something you didn’t. 

“Okay?” you respond, looking to Yeri. She nods, so you look back at Jaehyun.

He smiles once more, and it’s contagious. You stop yourself from smiling, only because you were too anxious. 

“So,” Jaehyung begins. “First and foremost. You passed out drunk and I didn’t know what to do. So I took you home because I didn’t want those pervs touching you. My friend’s mate-uh, girlfriend, changed you into my shirt when she saw you, as she figured it wouldn’t have been comfortable. I stayed with you because I didn’t want you getting sick and throwing up and choking. I slept shirtless, but I was wearing pants. I swear. And you were the one who cuddled up to me in your sleep, so that just kind of happened on its own.” 

You stare at him blankly, taking in his words and judging the honesty behind them. 

“So you didn’t rape her?” Yeri asks for you, gently giving your hand a squeeze. 

If it weren’t crazy, you would have sworn his eyes flashed red. 

“I didn’t lay a finger on her like that. I would never harm her.” Jaehyun says, and you feel the sincerity in his words. “I’d rather hurt myself.” 

You give him a sideways glance, confused as to why he felt so strongly for you. He was being extremely altruistic, and it surprises you.

“Do you say that to every girl?” you ask. 

He shakes his head, looking away bashfully. “No,” he admits. “But, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to start over with you. You’re… well, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you must be a wonderful person since you willingly met with me after that misunderstanding.” 

Before Yeri can stop you, or before you can even fully process what you say, you respond. “Yes, I’d like that.” 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Six

Part Five

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC

Warnings: Language, sexual situations

Tag List: @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @allieburakovsky @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork  @6ixx6ixx@ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard  @oldschoolimagineblog@thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog@ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax

**Let me know if you want to be tagged**

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“Idle hands are the Devil’s handiwork.” It was a warning my mother instilled in to me for as long as I can remember. I never quite understood the extent of what the saying meant until I had gotten older.

Being a toddler and scribbling on the wall with a marker out of boredom is far different than getting high and hammered on everything in sight out of boredom. Of course, I never did any of the things people always suspected I did. I’ll never forget seeing my face on a trashy tabloid with the title “Idle Hands Are the Devil’s Handiwork” with an article plastered inside about me basically saying that since I ran with rockstars, I became friends and acquaintances with plenty of them through Mötley Crüe, I wasn’t as pure and Godly as the boys, and myself, made me out to be. They even went as far as blatantly claiming I was snorting, injecting and drinking as much as those idiots were behind the scenes, and then accused me of being the group’s sexcapade.

The media was full of it when it came to their explanation of the phrase, but my mother wasn’t. “This is not what we do, Vivian.” I can hear my mother’s voice in my head as I assess the damage that consist of my own form of track marks. Faint bruises that are lightly dusted over my hips, dark hickeys splotch the skin of my neck, collarbones, chest, and inside of my thighs. My eyes drift to the bite mark on my rib cage, and I flinch when I run my fingers over it, the tender flesh aching slightly. My curly hair is furthermore tangled from our binger, my lips swollen from crooked teeth sinking in to them through the night. I shift in my place in front of the bathroom mirror, the junction of my thighs sore and my legs shaking like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time. Grabbing the sink to support myself, I feel what’s left of him leaking down my thighs and I close my eyes, trying to decide if I’m remorseful or not. The running water of the shower is starting to create steam over the mirror, pushing me out of my daze, and I lick my lips, tasting the ghost of cigarettes and Jack as I step to the shower to scrub away my sin. By the time I’m baptized, I turn the water off and wrap the stained towel around myself, and step to Nikki’s room to get my clothes on so I can crawl back in to bed with Tommy and pretend I didn’t just screw his friend. He’d kill the Devil if he knew half of what he had just done to me. The door creaks as I slip inside, trying to remember what direction they were tossed after being torn off. I see the T-shirt Tommy let me borrow, laying on the floor beside Nikki’s side of the bed. I tip-toe to snag it, crouching to pick it up. As soon as I grab it, familiar fingers are wrapping around my wrist loosely, Nikki’s solemn expression meeting my eyes when I look at him and I give him a tiny smile. “Go back to sleep.” I whisper, getting out of his grip to pull my shirt on. He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me as if he’s lost, his hand returning to me to run up my arm. I let him have his moment of touching me with the rough palm of his hand as he moves cross my collar bone and gently grasps at my throat. I don’t resist him when he pulls me to him and I lean forward, his lips catching mine. I don’t know if it’s because he’s half asleep, or the both of us are exhausted and still dazed, but this is surprisingly gentle, as if he’s silently apologizing in advance for everything he knows he’ll inevitably put me through eventually. I pull away first, my hand gently rubbing at his jaw until his eyes close again, peacefully. I pull my panties back on and leave him to himself, sneaking back in to bed with Tommy, praying silently that neither him nor Vince have woken up and noticed my absence. The days to follow are like one big withdraw laced with the paranoia of people finding out and the discomfort of my recovering body. Nikki and I won’t even look at each other if he’s hanging around with Tommy when we go somewhere. Tansy somehow knew the moment she saw me for the first time since it had happened. She saw through the façade entirely the second she got in to my car to head to the Rainbow with me after a show. She had a gift of just knowing. She could pick out truth from lies in a heartbeat and could call out professional liars on their bluff. If someone ever got away with lying to her, it’s because she kept her mouth shut and let them, which happened a lot, but I was always an exception to that. “Did you want to?” She asks me after I explain how it happened and I think a moment. “I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, that probably paints Nikki out to be the actual Devil. “I kind of blacked out between him making a move on me and then realizing what we’d done when we were finished.” “He didn’t…” She starts, trying to think of how to phrase it. “…force anything or–” “No.” I know that much and she nods slowly. “I don’t even know if he wanted to, really.” I add. “We were both just being stupid.” “Well, you used protection right?” She asks next and I stay quiet. “Oh, Viv.” “Neither of us were really worried about it in the midst of tearing clothes off and trying to make it to his bed.” “Do you think you might be pregnant?” “I don’t want to think about it.” I say dismissively. “You two made a decision that could have consequences. It would be smart to talk about the possibility of it.” “We haven’t talked since I told him to go back to sleep when I was getting my clothes back on. The last thing I want to say to him now is, ‘hey, I know you’re just starting to get a taste of the Rockstar life you’ve always dreamed of, but I might be knocked up which means you can’t enjoy that life because you’re a dad now. Congrats.’” I argue and she sighs out heavily. “I’m the idiot that should be worried about stuff like this. Not you. You’re the responsible one out of the bunch. If you sink, we all sink.” She motions to me and I try to laugh the best I can. “You need to give me a little wiggle room to mess up.” I explain lowly after a few moments of silence. “Because I’m not always going to be Saint Vivian 24/7.” “And that’s okay.” She assures me. “But you always tell us 'be dumb, but be smart about it’ and, Viv…of all the guys to give something incredibly important to you to, you give it to him? It’s Nikki.” She offers me a tiny, sympathetic smile. “What the hell are you doing?” “I have absolutely no idea.” I close my eyes, refusing to cry but I feel the burn of oncoming tears and she grabs my hand. “Welcome to my world of getting with men who I know will wreck my life but allow them to anyway.” She offers up enthusiastically and I genuinely laugh, holding her hand tightly By the time we get the Rainbow and walk inside to see the four guys at their normal booth, laughing and drinking as usual. They see Tansy first, greeting her with “Hey, Tans,” then Mick, Vince and Tommy say “hey” to me like they always do, but Nikki seems to be hiding in his teased, black ball of hair, cigarette hanging from his lips as he avoids making eye contact with me. “Hey,” I reply to the three of them, sliding in behind Tansy to sit directly across the table from Mick, who looks as if he’s narrowing his eyes at me from behind his sunglasses. “So, we’ve been workin’ on some new music and we need you to listen to some of it.” Tommy tells me. “Why me?” “Because I trust your judgement.” Tommy replies with a shrug and Mick lets out a blatant “HA”, chuckling a little to himself and I glare between him and Nikki, who’s looking a little guilty. “Her judgement is just as shitty as anyone else’s at this table.” Mick comments, and I realize he knows. “What are some of the names?” I ask to change the topic of my judgement. “Title track is 'Shout With the Devil’.” Vince says nonchalantly. “You’re kidding.” Tansy sounds off, scrunching her face a little. “Nope.” He grins, taking a swig of his beer. “Nikki came up with it.” Tommy informs me and it doesn’t surprise me. “Yeah, he’s dabbling in Satanism, incase you and your good, Christianly, God-fearing, judgement wanted to know.” Mick adds and my blood runs cold. “You what?” I snap at Nikki and his heavily lined eyes stay to the table. “Hey, don’t you believe in soul tying?” Mick asks me randomly and I tense up, knowing where he’s going with this. The last thing I needed to do was intertwine my soul with one as twisted as Nikki’s. “The fuck is that?” Vince scoffs and I exhale. “You have sex with someone and a part of you is with them and a part of them is with you, which is why God tells his children not to just sleep with anyone.” I tell him. “And that is why religion is no fucking fun.” Vince points at me. “You can’t drink, or fuck, all you can do is pray and harass people about whether they’ve accepted Christ as their Lord and savior and shit.” “He doesn’t prohibit pre-marital sex to be a buzz-kill, Vince, he prohibits it because it can be more painful if a person leaves you because a part of you is going with them. He tells us not to do it to protect us from heartbreak and confusion and pain. If you don’t want to believe that then that’s fine. But don’t sit here and talk down on me just because I don’t drink, or fuck, and no, not every Christian is harassing people about getting saved. Some of us simply pray for people we think might be lost and keep it pushing.” I argue. “Is that why you’re here?” Nikki asks me suddenly, the first words he’s spoken to me in the last week. “To save our souls from the Devil?” “I’m here because Tommy happens to be in your band.” I chuckle out. “I pray for you idiots but I certainly don’t have high expectations at the moment.” “I’m glad.” Nikki says, licking the inside of his bottom lip, leaning back in his seat to stare at me before he lights another cigarette. “You guys are comin’ to graduation right?” Tansy cuts in to change the subject, raising her brows hopefully at and they fumble around, pretending to be occupied with whatever they can find on the table. “Oh, c'mon.” She complains, shoving at Vince’s arm and he starts chuckling with Tommy. “We’ve worked our asses off, you guys. You need to be there to support us, especially since one of us,” She looks at me. “Is risking death every time she steps within a ten foot radius of any of you.” “Fine.” Vince gives up, holding his hands up. “As long as we get to have a graduation party with all your hot friends, and lots of booze.” Tansy and I look at each other, trying not to burst in to laughter before breaking the bad news to them. “Um,” I start. “You guys are our hot friends.” “We don’t talk to anyone else.” Tansy backs me up. “If we’re just having a party with you two, you both gotta get naked and nasty or it ain’t happening.” Vince states sternly. “I will never get naked and nasty with you in the mix.” I reply, matter of fact. “Give it a few years.” Vince tells me. “You’ll give in eventually.” “Yeah, give in to the deep rooted desire to neuter you.” I shoot back. “There’s not a blade sharp enough to do the job.” He smirks, causing Tommy and Nikki to snort. “End of discussion.” “I’m takin’ a piss,” Mick sighs out, standing carefully before he heads to the bathroom. I watch after him, oblivious to the conversation the other four are having. “I’ll be right back.” I announce, sliding out of the booth to follow Mick. He’s at a urinal when I walk in, and he glances at me and lets out a heavy breath, seemingly exasperated. “Don’t tell me I’m next on your hit list.” He tells me fatly and I lean against the door with my arms crossed. “How did you know?” I ask him and he zips his pants and flushes, finally looking at me. “You left your crucifix on his floor. I got there after you left while they were still asleep. When I went to wake him up, I almost stepped on it.” “Well, he could’ve stolen it.” I point out. “Without me knowing.” “Except you never take it off, so he would’ve had to snatch it off of you without you knowing. Look, it’s not the end of the world. He got home with the boys late at night, you were available, you were willing, and you had enough decency to take off your proof of religion before doing something that would piss God off. Shit happens, Viv. It’s not that big of a deal.” I’m quiet for a moment, looking at the floor and he sighs. “Or it is a big deal because you’ve never done that before.” He thinks aloud and I finally look at him again. “All the best Christians are sinners like everyone else. If you think you made a mistake, then learn from it and don’t let it happen again. This doesn’t damn you.” It’s like he’s read my mind and I nod, stepping aside to let him out. The first half of the night is spent at the Rainbow before Tommy and Vince put in to going to the Cathouse. I, expectedly, denied the invitation, but Tansy was down to go so Mick said he would take her home when they were done. “Hey, I need the key to your apartment.” I tell Tommy as I’m getting my jacket on. “Why?” He asks. “I left something there on accident.” I say and before he can answer, Nikki speaks up. “I’m about to head back anyway, I’ll go with you.” He offers and I raise my brows, Tansy and Mick simultaneously looking at me knowingly. “Dude, it’s like eleven. We still got eight good hours ahead of us.” Vince tries to tell him. “Not feeling to well.” Nikki lies, patting his shoulder. “C'mon.” He motions to me. “O-Okay,” I stammer a little. “I’ll see you guys later.” The very short drive in my car to their apartment is silent, but the tension speaks loud enough for the both of us. Once I park and the two of us get out, stepping up the stairs to get to the door. “What’d you need to get?” He asks as I walk in first just to get away from his suffocating presence. “I left my cross necklace.” I tell him and he shuts the door, stepping to me while pulling something from the collar of his shirt. He tugs off one of the a necklaces around his neck, and holds out my crucifix. “Here.” I take it, mumbling “thanks” before I turn to leave, putting it back on as I go. “So are we gonna pretend I didn’t screw your soul out or…? I mean if you don’t want to acknowledge it that’s perfectly fine with me, but most chicks get all emotional and have expectations and if you think this means we’re dating or something–” “I don’t think that.” I tell him, shaking my head. “We haven’t talked since it happened so no, I wasn’t under the impression you wanted me to be anything more than a cum rag you screwed the soul out of while being too messed up to remember more than half of it.” I smile as I speak but my tone is anything but sweet. “Goodnight, Nikki.” I head for the door again but he stops me. “I remember all of it, actually.” He argues. “That’s surprising being you tasted like straight liquor, among other things.” I turn to face him with my arms crossed and he steps closer to me. “I sobered up pretty fuckin’ fast when you kissed me.” He teases and I scoff. “You kissed me.” I argue. “You made the first move. Out of nowhere.” He’s inches in front of me now, giving me the same, devious, smirk he was giving me that night. “I know,” He whispers, his hand moving to my lower back, pulling me closer to him, causing heat to swelter through my blood and I take quick, uneasy breaths as he leans in closer, his lips nearly touching mine. I pull away a little, trying to hide the shaking of my voice. “We can’t do this.” I tell him weakly, his hand on my back pulling me even closer so he can wrap his arm around my waist. “You said the exact same thing last time.” He reminds me and I nod, trying to keep my thoughts together, but when presses his lips to mine the same way he did the first time, I feel all common sense and consciousness leave me as I kiss him back, my hands holding his arms tightly. We pull away to catch our breaths, and go back for more. My hands eagerly push off his leather jacket and once it’s off, he’s pulling mine off of me and tossing it off to the side. I’m tugging my necklace off and letting it hit the carpeted floor within seconds. Like the first time, I shut my mind off and black out, willing to let my own form of heroin destroy me. I get his shirt off as his tongue meets mine, eliciting a moan from me, and he pulls at the laces of his pants, getting them loose before pulling me up to wrap my legs around his waist. I comply, wrapping my arms around his neck to get as close as I can to him as he steps to his room and drops me on the mattress, getting his pants off. Lips return to my mouth briefly before leaving to add to the healing bruises on my neck, and I sit up to yank my skin-tight dress off, practically attacking him when it’s off, the both of us ending up on the foot of the bed as I straddle him. He sits up to take off my bra and allows his lips to explore my collar bones, traveling towards my chest. Within a second he’s gotten me underneath him, pinning my wrists as his tongue and teeth assault my breasts, my legs wrapping around his waist to create some kind of friction just to relieve the ache between my legs. His mouth moves down my abdomen, teeth sinking into one of my top ribs when I arch my back under his touch and I whimper, wanting desperately to tangle my fingers in to his hair. I feel my soul leave my body when he gets to what he was wanting, his hands letting go of my wrists so his arms can wrap around my thighs and pin me under him as he laps at my flesh. My hands move to his hair, my calves rub against the smooth skin of his back and his name falls from my lips in a broken prayer. I squeeze my eyes closed, panting as I feel myself about to release, and then he’s stopping. He doesn’t give me anytime to whine before he’s coming back up to kiss me, grabbing at my hip with one hand while the other presses into the mattress beside my head. There’s no “are you sure” or “I’ll be gentle”, just like there wasn’t the first time we did this. His entry is rough, he doesn’t give me time to adjust and he doesn’t start off slow. I accept whatever he’s willing to give me, whatever way I can get it, and let out a high pitched sigh when he pulls out of my and slams back in. My already sore flesh is once more abused, and the sting of his thrusts is probably causing a little bleeding like before. “Fuck,” He groans out, one hand on my throat as the other palms at my chest. My hand grabs at the back if his neck, pulling his lips to mine, and he eagerly accepts my attention, his lips tugging at my bottom lip before his tongue traces mine. Nails dig in to his back, probably drawing blood in their wake, and he picks up his rough pace, actually screwing me in to the mattress. He pulls me on top of him and I let out a gasp mixed with a moan as I sink onto him completely, feeling full, and his hands have my hips in a death grip as he guides my movements. My hands rest on his chest, balancing myself as I throw my head back. “Nikki,” I moan out, looking down at him and he takes my left hand from his chest and presses a single kiss to it, the action contradicting his rough thrusting in to me but I don’t complain, feeling myself come apart above him. My fingers of my left hand lace through his as I fall forward, my chest pressing to his as he holds my hips with one hand while moving in to me. “Oh, fuck, Viv,” He grunts out and I feel heat fill me as he finishes in me before the both of us are collapsing. History had repeated itself, step for step, and I laid there and tried to let that sink in, just waiting to be remorseful. But I felt no shame about what happened between the two of us. If I had felt shame or regret, I wouldn’t have let it keep happening. I would’ve distance myself from him and that temptation.  If something makes you feel bad for doing it, you stop. And because I didn’t feel bad about it, it continued. I thought my punishment for sinning would be regret or overbearing shame. I didn’t realize my punishment was going to span out over the years to come in the form of multiple children created, but most of them never making it to see the light of day, and not being able to tell Nikki because God knew he didn’t need anymore reasons to stick a needle in his deteriorated veins. Not to mention infidelity on both of our parts and everything else in between. Yeah, idle hands cause us to do incredibly stupid things, and the Devil gets to pick out our consequences for the mess he enticed us in to making.

[choicesfanatic86]

TTS: Part 23 - Part 1/2  (Liam x MC)

DISCLAIMER:  All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story.  Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS:  Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY:  Are you talking about Andy? Or are you talking about yourself?

If you are new to the series and would like to catch up by reading previous parts, please check out my master fan fiction listing.  CATCH UP HERE

TAGS:  @herladyshipxx  @theroyalweisme @blackcatkita @devineinterventions2 @hopefulmoonobject @captainkingliam @pbchoicesobsessed @cocomaxley @queencatherynerhys @mfackenthal @boneandfur @spetstoof @bobasheebaby @grapefrults @pessimystic-fangirl @dralenamax @mspaigemoore @drakelover78 @kaitycole @jayjay879 @hhiggs @umccall71 @penguininapinktuxedo @topsyturvy-dream @decisso @pnhanga @ladynonsense @mrs-simmy @jamielea81

5/6/18 - Hi everyone! I needed to split Part 23 in half because it was so long.  I didn’t intend for it to be this long, but here we are. =/ I’m going to release Part 2 at 12:00 pm HST. Thank you as always for following along and allowing me to bring you into this TRR AU.  I hope you like it. :) And sorry in advance for the roller coaster ride. =P

EDITED - Thank you to all who caught the duplicate text.  Especially for  @bobasheebaby @hopefulmoonobject @umccall71 @mfackenthal for letting me know! Eeek, so embarrassing. =P It should be corrected now!

PART 23 - Where Are We Going? (Part 1)

Riley spent an hour and a half getting ready for the rehearsal.  It was a good distraction from thinking about her relationship with Liam.  .  She had decided she wasn’t going to think about it tonight.  With Liam gone, she was going to focus on spending time with her friends and celebrating Bertrand and Savannah’s soon to be wedding.  She looked herself over in the floor-length mirror.  She had chosen an elegant green dress for the night’s festivities.  She had been obsessing over how she looked for the last twenty-minutes.  Savannah had casually mentioned that there’d be a few members of the press at the rehearsal tonight as they’d be doing an article about the wedding.  She’d be lying if she didn’t admit to being a tad bit nervous with the news about the press’ presence.  Savannah had assured her that they’d already been told they were not to harass her; otherwise they’d be removed from the estate.  That did little to alleviate her worries.  They were the press after all . . . freedom of speech and all that jazz . . . she doubted they’d heed the couple’s warnings.  She just hoped that they’d be civil and wouldn’t mention the trashy article that had been published in the newspaper last week.  Things had stayed relatively calm in scandal land, and Riley had hoped to keep things that way.

She wandered down the staircase, searching for Andy or Maxwell or anyone really - anyone to help lighten the tension brewing inside of her.  The estate was already bustling with activity.  Caterers were moving hot plates and large buffet tables into the ballroom.  Staff members were decorating various parts of the estate with beautiful floral arrangements.  The Beaumont Estate had been transformed into something out of a bridal magazine.  Riley had design-envy.  She’d done her fair share of weddings in New York, but nothing of this magnitude.  Everything was absolutely stunning.  

She ambled toward the courtyard still searching for her friends.  The courtyard was where the rehearsal and subsequent cocktail party was going to take place.  Bertrand and Savannah had spared no expense for their wedding celebration.  That much was clear.  Not that she should have been surprised; everything leading up to the big day had been phenomenal.  They deserved it, of course.  The road to their happily ever after hadn’t been easy, and to celebrate it as grandly as they were, was well-deserved.

Not paying attention, she turned a corner outside and bumped into someone.  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she started to say, a glimpse of redhead caused her to bite her tongue.  She braced herself for the storm of screams that would surely follow.  When none occurred, she mustered up enough courage to look up at her.   “Olivia, it’s nice to see you again,” Riley paused, waiting for the inevitable snarky retort.

Instead, Olivia greeted her with a tight smile.  “Lady Riley, that green dress looks quite lovely on your skin tone,” she said politely, a bit too much teeth still bared.

Riley was startled.  Had Olivia actually paid her a compliment?  “Oh . . .” she stumbled over her words. “Thank you so much,” she murmured softy, inclining her head toward her direction.

“Don’t look surprised,” she said impassively.  “Drake told me I’m supposed to be on my best behavior,” she narrowed her eyes at Riley.  “For Savannah’s sake, I said I would, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends,” she snapped back.

“I would make no mistake on that,” Riley nodded, raising her hands up in defeat.  “I’ll happily take cordialness over friendship with you any day.”

Olivia lingered, which alarmed Riley.  Hadn’t she just said that they weren’t friends?  She eyed the redhead suspiciously.  “Was there something else?”

“I saw Liam before I left the palace today,” she said quietly, looking around to ensure that no one was within earshot.

“Oh,” Riley paused, unsure where she was going with the conversation.

“He seemed happy,” she said honestly.

Riley smiled lightly.

“Considering he was gone for an extended period of time, and upon his return he’d looked happier than he had in years, I’m assuming you’re the cause?” Olivia asked, looking her up and down.

Riley blushed.  “I’d like to think we made each other happy,” she shrugged.

Olivia’s eyes darkened a bit.  “Are you going to break his heart again?” she asked sternly.

Riley blanched.  “What?”

“Am I going to have to endure watching my oldest, dearest friend be torn to bits over you again?”

Riley hesitated.  “I thought we were being cordial,” she murmured.  

“We are.  If I wasn’t on my best behavior, I’d have you cornered somewhere with my finger in your face,” she said coolly.  “I just need to know that you’re not going to hurt him again.”

“I don’t want to hurt him again,” Riley said quickly.  That was the truth, after all.  She had never wanted to hurt him.  

“That’s not the answer I’m looking for,” Olivia said, a slight sneer threatening to break through her calm face.

“That’s the only answer I have for you, Olivia,” she said honestly.  “We’re still figuring things out, okay?”

“Hmph,” she murmured indignantly

She was miffed.  She made that pretty clear, but Riley could care less.  She could play the same game.  “So, speaking of relationships . . . how are you and Drake doing?” she asked, a slight insinuation in her tone.  

“I’m not having that conversation with you, of all people,” she sneered.

“Hey now, you get to play twenty questions about my life, but I don’t get to ask you about yours?  What kind of reciprocity is that?”

“Don’t assume to know what’s going on between us, just because of your friendship with him,” she hissed out.  “We know where we stand with one another, and that’s all that matters,” she huffed.

“Really?  Because I think your relationship is probably the worst kept secret at court,” Riley smirked, “But okay, we can play the don’t ask, don’t tell game, Olivia,” she shrugged.  “I need to find Andy.  As usual, it’s been a pleasure,” she sighed, as she went back into the house.

Olivia was left mouth-gaping in the courtyard, still stunned that Riley had the audacity to speak to her that way.  So much for being cordial, Riley thought to herself.

As she walked back into the house, she noticed that there were far less staff members rushing around.  Clearly, it was getting close to show time, which meant that people would start arriving soon.  She really needed to find Andy and Maxwell.  She needed back up when it came to dealing with any little courtly or media-related issues that developed.

She felt someone grab her elbow, maneuvering her over to the staircase.  “Where have you been?” Andy fumed at her.

“I’ve been butting heads with Olivia, you know the usual,” Riley shrugged.  “She got critical, I got critical and sarcastic.  It was a mess.  I’m sure I’ll hear about it from Drake later,” Riley mused.  “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, just the fact that Maxwell wants me to introduce me to everyone he knows,” she said in a panic.

“What?”  Riley said, confused.

“He wants people to meet his girlfriend.  Me!”  She sat down on the steps, her hands shaking.

“And that’s a problem because?”  Riley still wasn’t following.  Just a few days ago, Andy had been over the moon about being his girlfriend.  Now, she was freaking out about it.

“Because I’m going to mess things up.  Apparently, that’s what I do.  I say the wrong thing . . . or use the wrong utensil  . . . or greet someone the wrong way,” she sighed.  “I can’t do anything right,” she said sadly.

“Andy, you’ve got this.  You’re endearing,” Riley said encouragingly.

“According to you.  According to Bertrand, I’m a thorn in his side that won’t go away,” she huffed.

“He did not say that,” Riley eyed her pointedly.

“He didn’t have to.  He tried to quiz me on fork etiquette this afternoon, Riley.  Fork etiquette.”

Riley cringed.  “I take it that it didn’t go well?”  Riley shouldn’t have asked, because she already knew the answer.

“He looked at me like I was a moron.  My mom went to Julliard, my father went to Berkley.  I come from good genes, Riley.  Yet, he gives me this look like I’m some unworthy peon,” she grumbled.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Riley asked sincerely.

“No . . . that’s not a good idea.  Not today at least.  Or tomorrow of course,” she sighed.  “Am I being ridiculous?”

“No, you’re not,” Riley assured her.

“How did you survive this, Ri?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t.  Had she survived?  She put on a good act.  She was pretty good at faking it, but did she really survive court?  She’d run away . . . and upon her return she had done everything in her power to avoid any sort of uncomfortable court experienced.  

“I . . . I honestly don’t know,” she whispered.

“I don’t know if I can handle the constant scrutiny,” she said honestly.  “I’m the kind of girl that lounges about all day eating junk food.  I don’t know how these ladies have their “a game” on around the clock.”

Riley hummed in agreement.  “I know, but at least you’ve got Maxwell, and he’s definitely not like Bertrand when it comes to this sort of thing.  You know that right?  Maxwell doesn’t care about court propriety and the like.  What I do know is he cares about you quite a bit.  Why don’t you just focus on that for right now, yeah?”

Andy nodded uncertainly.

“Let’s go find your guy so that we can get this party started, huh?  Maxwell makes everything ten times better.  Promise,” she smiled reassuringly.

True to Riley’s word, Maxwell did make everything better or at least distracted from the worry that was on both women’s minds.  When they found him, he was setting up a very elaborate champagne display with a very large sword resting at its side.  It looked as if he were preparing for one of his champagne fountain tricks.

“Maxwell, I thought Savannah said no swordplay . . .” Riley trailed off.  “This very much looks like swordplay.”

“I honestly don’t think she meant it . . . did she?” A look of concern flitted across his face, but only for a moment.  “Of course she didn’t mean it.  This is magnificent,” he looked on his creation proudly.  “It isn’t a Beaumont party without some swordplay.”

Andy looked on bemused.  “What’s going on?”

“I think we may be witnessing the motive behind Maxwell’s murder,” Riley whispered tersely.

Andy’s eyes widened.  “Should we stop him?”

“I’m not sure he’d listen,” Riley shrugged honestly.

An hour later, as guests started to gather in the entryway, Maxwell announced his gift of a toast in Savannah and Bertrand’s honor. Bertrand’s face during the entire exchange could be described as pained . . . not for fear of what was about to occur, but in the fact that he had to restrain himself from throttling Maxwell in front of all of his esteemed guests.  Savannah, although she had been the one to nix the entire idea, looked on intrigued about the entire set up.  He executed the breaking of the champagne bottles flawlessly as guests looked on in reverence.  The champagne flowed freely into the set up of glasses that he arranged just perfectly.  

Photographers snapped photos and were riveted by the performance.   Riley later overheard Bertrand speaking to a reporter from the CBC.

“Why of course, Maxwell has always been a bit on the theatrical side, but my goodness, was that show not just amazing?  Leave it to my brother to wow a crowd,” he said with a broad grin on his face.

Riley couldn’t help but laugh.  It was such a typical Bertrand reaction.  As long as the image was positive, he’d embrace it.

Riley, Andy and Maxwell mingled for the rest of the time.  She recognized a few people from court who she interacted with during her social season, and they politely greeted her.  Thankfully, she hadn’t found herself in any sort of uncomfortable situation with the press, for which she was very grateful.  She didn’t think she’d be in the mood to deal with any of that tonight.  Just as she was about to suggest they get another drink, Maxwell spotted someone across the room.  He grabbed Andy’s hand before turning to Riley.

“If you’ll excuse us, Riley.  I want Andy to meet by Great-Aunt Mildred,” he said quickly, leading Andy off in the other direction.  Andy’s eyes looked at her pleadingly, but Riley just shook her head at her friend, waving her off.  

Riley picked up another glass of wine, when she spotted Drake out of the corner of her eye.  He was approaching her fast and looked none too pleased.

“Did you harass Olivia this afternoon?” He said angrily.

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Hi Drake, I’m fine thanks.  How are you doing?” She smirked as she took a sip from her wine glass.

“I’m serious, Lawson.  She went on and on about how you verbally attacked her in the courtyard earlier.”

Riley snorted.  “Really?  Olivia Nevrakis needs you to fight her battles for her?  So much for crushing one’s enemies huh?”

“Come on Lawson.  I’m catching enough flack as it is.  She said you were bombarding her with questions about our relationship,” he explained.

“I did not harass her.  It was the other way around.  She started getting all defensive about Liam so I gave her a little taste of her own medicine.”

Drake closed his eyes, miserable.  “What did you do?”

“Nothing that she didn’t do first,” she snipped.  “I just asked her about your guys relationship is all,” she shrugged.  “I didn’t realize she was going to run and tattle on me,” she shook her head in disbelief.

“Lawson, will you just leave it alone?”

“What? I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” she exclaimed.  “Look, I’m not one to be handing out advice.  I mean, my own life is pretty screwed up, but I’m just saying if you care about her . . . if you love her . . . why the hell are you beating around the bush?  Just be out with it.  Love each other.  Cherish each other.”

“I’m not exactly marriage material, Lawson.  The set up we have going on is fine.  We’re not hurting anyone,” Drake tried to brush her off.

“Except maybe yourselves,” she said honestly.  “You know what I would have given to be able to have a public relationship with Liam.  Don’t you realize how fortunate you guys are?”

“I never really thought of it that way,” he shrugged.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you want to shout it from the rooftops if you could, Drake?”

“I don’t have a title,” he said simply.  “That’s all anyone would ever look at.  The commoner with the Duchess.  And yeah, that never mattered to me before, but when you have somebody like Olivia . . . it’s kind of important.”

“A title is a title, it doesn’t determine who you are as a person, Drake.  You of all people should understand that.  Besides, if it mattered that much, why is she even with you?  And don’t say it’s just about the fooling around, because we both know it’s more than that.”

He bowed his head in defeat.  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re annoying when you’re right?”

Riley smiled in victory.  “Maybe once or twice,” she winked at him, and as she was going to say a bit more, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Lady Riley, you’re looking stunning this evening,” Liam murmured from behind her.  “Drake,” he nodded at his friend.

“Liam,” she said in surprise.  “I didn’t think you’d be attending tonight.”

“And that’s my cue to go find Olivia,” Drake said.  “Thanks, Lawson.  I’ll catch you later,” he waved as he went searching for his redhead.

Riley and Liam nodded as he left, their attention turning back to one another.  “Francesco was kind to me tonight.  He didn’t chatter my ear off about sports or the like,” he chuckled.  “Figured I’d take my chances and see how the Beaumont rehearsal was going,” he said.  “How’s everything going?”

“Well, the rehearsal lasted all of ten minutes, and then it turned into just another Beaumont party,” she laughed.  “I’m really glad you came,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he winked at her.

They walked around the courtyard, chatting quietly, careful not to draw too much attention to themselves.  They found themselves in one of the corners of the courtyard where they firmly planted themselves.  Thankfully, no one seemed to pay them any attention.

“So, why aren’t you off mingling?  Usually I wouldn’t have the luxury to see you until much later in the evening,” she asked, seeing that there were many noblemen and diplomats that he probably should schmooze with, at lease for the sake of propriety.

He glanced over, shrugging slightly.  “I’m not in the mood for idle small talk,” he said, taking as sip of hi scotch.

She frowned noticing that he wasn’t able to meet her eyes.  “Liam, don’t lie to me,” she said sternly.

He inhaled a deep breath.  “I get to see these people all the time,” he said coolly.  “I ran into Maxwell this morning as I was leaving . . . he reminded me that our time together is growing short.,” he explained.

“Oh,” she paused taking a sip from her wine glass.  “You’re talking about me going back to New York.”

He frowned, giving a slight nod.  “We haven’t talked much about what happens after you leave . . . if there’s anything after . . . I just don’t want to squander any more time than I already have.”

“Oh, Liam,” she said sadly.  She wanted to reach out to him, to pull him into her arms and tell him that she had the same fears; that she, too, was worried about what was going to happen between them.  She can’t.  Not here, there were too man prying eyes.  People from court, members of the press.  Even them talking to openly could be misconstrued. One wrong picture with the right story could cause another scandal to break.  She didn’t want that added worry on his mind.  “Do you want to go somewhere to talk?” she asked.

He looked around, checking to see if they’d be missed.  “Yes, but perhaps you should go on ahead and I’ll follow after,” he nodded.

“My room then?”

He nodded, walking off toward the opposite end of the courtyard.

It took around fifteen minutes before he came to her room.  She was certain he did a quick round around the courtyard to assuage any indication that they’d be meeting with one another.

“Hey,” she murmured nervously as he knocked at her door.  She couldn’t pinpoint why she was feeling so nervous.  It was just Liam after all.

“Hi,” He whispered as he entered her bedroom.

“So, let’s talk,” she said softly.  “What’s bothering you?”

He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he had suddenly regretting coming into he bedroom.  He stared hard at her for a moment, before finally clearing his throat.

“I know you didn’t come back for me, Riley,” he acknowledged.  “I also know that you had no intention of letting me know you were even back . . . and I can’t help but wonder if Bertrand hadn’t told me about you being here . . . would we even be at this point? Wondering what we’re going to do about us?  Wondering about the future?”

Riley looked at him carefully.  He looked so vulnerable, so uncertain.  That wasn’t like Liam at all.  He always came across to collected, so self-assured.  It was hard for her to take this Liam in..  “Liam . . . I know what you’re saying . . . I didn’t not want to see you  . . . I was scared to see you again, because I knew what would happen.  I knew this would happen, but now that it has, I’m so happy that we found each other again,” she said honestly.  “I was confused before . . . and honestly, I’m still a little confused.  Not about my feelings for you.  I love you . . . but the future . .  . it scares the hell out of me.  I don’t know what to do,” she said honestly.  

He ran his hands through his hair.  “So what do we do then? Play it by ear?”

She shrugged.  “Well, at least we’re not alone in this conundrum,” she said wistfully.  “I’m sure Maxwell and Andy are having just as difficult of a time discerning what they’re going to do in the next few days.”

“Maxwell’s thinking of marrying her,” he said simply, catching her off guard.

She nearly choked.  “W-what?”

“Bertrand talked him out of it course,” he explained.  “Lectured him about propriety and how grossly negligent it would be without a proper period of courting,” Liam smirked.  “Leave it to Bertrand to knock any sort of romance out of the situation,” he scoffed.  

“Good God, don’t do that to me.” She put her hand over her heart.  “I could have died right here, Liam.”

“You don’t approve of them marrying?” Liam asked, a bit surprised by her reaction.

“Marrying . . . no.  Definitely not,” she shook her head vehemently.  “Of course I approve of them being together.  They’re great for one another, but marriage . . . that’s a big commitment,” she emphasized.  “They’ve just met and they’re still learning about all of their little quirks.  Getting married . . . that’s a forever kind of deal, you know what I mean?  I just . . . I don’t want either of them to get hurt,” she said sincerely.  “Besides, Andy has her future to think about.  She’s in grad school, working on her thesis.  She’s got all of these amazing plans for her future.  I don’t’ want her to forget about all of that because she made a guy.”

“Are you talking about Andy, or are you talking about yourself?” He asked with a pained expression on his face. ht here, Liam.”

“You don’t approve of them marrying?” Liam asked, a bit surprised by her reaction.

“Marrying . . . no.  Definitely not,” she shook her head vehemently.  “Of course I approve of them being together.  They’re great for one another, but marriage . . . that’s a big commitment,” she emphasized.  “They’ve just met and they’re still learning about all of their little quirks.  Getting married . . . that’s a forever kind of deal, you know what I mean?  I just . . . I don’t want either of them to get hurt,” she said sincerely.  “Besides, Andy has her future to think about.  She’s in grad school, working on her thesis.  She’s got all of these amazing plans for her future.  I don’t’ want her to forget about all of that because she made a guy.”

“Are you talking about Andy, or are you talking about yourself?” He asked with a pained expression on his face.

[hellyeahagender]

hey! i wanted to say i respect your position on not getting involved in discourse and not posting it here and wanted to know if you had any advice for how others can follow suit? im not involved in discourse and dont go seeking it out but i still end up seeing a lot of it on my dash anyway and id rather not. ty

Hello anon, thanks for the question.

Mainly what it comes down to is a lot of blacklisting, unfollowing, and blocking without remorse. I’ll break it down into the different ways the discourse comes up and how you can avoid it.

If someone you follow has suddenly started posting discourse that you

agree with but still don’t want to see, blacklist or ts whatever discourse tags they use; if they don’t use any tags send them a polite ask requesting that they do.  If they say yes, blacklist said tags. If they refuse, unfollow them.

disagree with but don’t consider it to be so terrible that it’s a dealbreaker, follow the above steps. if their opinions ever do get to a place where you feel that they are a dealbreaker, unfollow them. if it’s particularly severe, block them (which will automatically cause you to unfollow them as well)

disagree with and consider to be so terrible that you never want anything to do with the person again, block them immediately.

An issue you might encounter (or are possibly currently dealing with) is having to reconcile finding out that someone you have followed or known for years and liked and even respected actually holds some really disgusting views. The fact that you liked them and previously had a high opinion of them can cloud your judgment and make you hesitate in unfollowing/blocking them even when they start posting things on a regular basis that cause you stress, harm you emotionally/mentally, or just otherwise make your dash a shitty place to be. From experience I can tell you that hesitating in unfollowing/blocking these people is only prolonging the inevitable. They’re not going to all of a sudden stop thinking disgusting things or posting about them and you’re not all of a sudden going to stop being hurt by those things. The fact that you liked having them on your dash before does not change the fact that you dread having them on it now and it’s what’s happening now that matters. If you want to unfollow or block someone and the only thing holding you back is how much you used to like having them on your dash, consider this your permission to unfollow them immediately and find new people you’re more suited to.

If someone you follow has started reblogging discourse in order to call it out and you

agree with them but don’t want to see, block whoever they’re calling out and blacklist whatever discourse tags the person you follow is using. if they don’t use tags, ask them to politely. if they say yes, blacklist said tags. if they refuse, consider whether this untagged discourse is worth unfollowing them over. if it is, unfollow them.

agree with them but are torn between not wanting to see the discourse and wanting to be aware of gross people on tumblr so you can block them, be aware of your mental health at all times and whether or not seeing these things on your dash is getting to be too much. if it is, follow the previous bullet point. if not, blacklist the name of the person/people being called out and then block them.

disagree with them but not so terribly that it’s a dealbreaker, blacklist whatever discourse tags they use. if they don’t use tags, politely ask them to. if they say yes, block said tags. if they refuse, unfollow them.

disagree with them and consider their opinion to be so terrible that you never want anything to do with the person again, block them.

If discourse has suddenly started showing up in tags you track/frequent that you

agree with but don’t want to see, blacklist the discourse tags the poster uses; if the poster does not use any discourse tags but frequently posts things you DO want to see in the tag send them an ask politely requesting that they start using discourse tags. if they do, blacklist said tags. if they refuse,  decide whether you care more about seeing their other posts or not seeing the discourse. if it’s the latter, blacklist their username or flat-out block them.

disagree with but not so terribly that it’s a dealbreaker and the poster frequently posts things you DO want to see, blacklist the discourse tags the poster uses; if the poster does not use any discourse tags, consider asking them to start using them. if you do not want to ask or do not feel comfortable doing so, blacklist the poster’s name. if you ask and they agree, black list said tags. if you ask and they refuse, blacklist the username or block the poster.

disagree with and consider to be so terrible that you never want anything to do with the person again, block them. even if they make really pretty edits or awesome art or whatever, it’s not worth it.

And in general it’s a good idea to blacklist or block:

the actual word ‘discourse’

any ___ discourse tags (e.g. ‘fandom discourse’, ‘ace discourse’, ‘bi discourse’, etc)

the words/tags ‘exclusionist’ and ‘inclusionst’ + ‘exclusionists’ and ‘inclusionists’

anyone with the word ‘discourse’ in their username or blog description

anyone whose blog seems to be 100% solely dedicated to discourse

anyone with the word ‘aphobe’ in their username or blog description

anyone who posts discourse in positivity tags or other non-discourse tags

anyone who refuses to tag discourse

anyone you see suicide baiting, sending death threats, or otherwise harassing ‘discoursers’  or just random people they disagree with

Beyond all that, you just want to start following people who have the same stance on this as you do and are dedicated to not getting involved and not giving a platform to some of the toxic, abusive voices out there. If you want to engage in serious discussions about some of the issues that discoursers (badly) touch on there are plenty of blogs around who do it in a calm, rational, well thought out, and non-reactionary manner. And if you want nothing to do with any of those topics then there are also plenty of people on tumblr who are very solid about not posting about them at all. It’s just a matter of finding them.

[manascoundrel]

Trophy- Chapter 4

by Yarking Fandom: Dragon Age (general) Summery: Two troubled children meet at the Minrathous Circle. One is a magister’s heir, groomed to be the blood mage general of Seheron, without fear or mercy. Hopefully, that will keep people from noticing how very much an elf he is. The other is last born, least loved and most of his emotions involve academics and cadavers. They love each other, even if they’re not terribly good at it. Warnings for this chapter: racism, slavery (mentioned), child abuse (implied), harassment and internalized racism (this is a bigger theme of this chapter so if self-loathing for race is something that bothers you to read take caution) AO3: here

There was two weeks between the youngest student’s arrival and the first of their classes. Enough time for them to familiarize themselves with the immediately important locations- classes, lavatories, the refectory, boarding rooms and the halls and stairwells that connected them, the list arranged in Cato’s mind by their importance.

There were few enough entering students and many enough dorm masters and mistresses that none of them were ever without supervision for long. Until the children settled in and could be proven not to do something stupid like get lost or fall down the stairs, they seemed loathed to let them out of their sight. Kids were corralled together in small packs, lead to and fro back and forth again and again and again, drilling into their memory the patterns of the school until even their little five-year-old minds could be entrusted to get from one place to another.

Cato had asked one of the supervising prefects how long he could expect the dorm leaders to be watching over them all so constantly. The bedraggled prefect had torn his exhausted eyes away from a large, small-texted tome long enough to gruff out, “When classes start you’ll mostly be on your own. Good luck.”

Cato bristled at the prefect mistaking his frustration with concern. It had taken him only a few days to memorize the places he was being constantly herded around. He chafed under the constant watch and remembered the comfort of anonymity and secrecy he felt on the boat, tucked away and free. In contrast, the entering students dormitories had a dozen beds per room, and the closest he could get to privacy was closing the curtain partitions that separated the beds into groups of four. Even then, it was never long before a dorm leader would spot his dim shadow against the curtain and peek in, ushering him with the next gaggle of children to be reminded where the nearest lavatory was the twelfth time that day.

Nevertheless, Cato found himself often sprawled flat on his belly on one of the beds, trying his best to avoid the tedious trips with the round-eared children that looked at him and his wide eyes and ear cuffs and flat, elvhen bridge of his nose as if he was making one long mistake by being in the Circle at all. There were no other elf students his age, and the older students wouldn’t be arriving until just a day before classes began again. There were no elvhen staff that he had seen yet.

In fact, the only elves he had seen since the boat had docked were the sallow, haggard slaves that cleaned the school and assisted the cooks in preparing breakfast. Whenever the group of children Cato was in passed one of these wasting creatures, Cato felt an uneasy tightness in him, and the compulsion to stare. Sometimes they would look back in the way slaves do, eyes meeting somewhere around Cato’s knees. Sometimes they would slow as they caught the copper cuffs at his ears that he wore to help make his ears prick, their conical shape accentuating the elvhen point.

To think, someone had mistaken him for one of those. He remembered the girl on the boat every time and squirmed. He knew slaves were common. He knew that every family on the same prestigious level of his own had slaves as a matter of necessity, if not to work the fields and mines and other assets of the family’s fortunes then to run errands, cook and any menial task that their masters couldn’t afford to spend time doing. And his family was no different, but the slaves his mother owned were split evenly. Male and female, human and elf.

After a week of seeing only gaunt, haunting elves creeping wordlessly and demure through the halls of the Minrathous Circle, it gradually dawned on Cato that his mother’s parity in buying slaves was artificial. Her words came back with a chilling shiver as he looked into the dull, oily eyes of one of the Servus Publicus.

Every elf in the Imperium has to pay a price to live here. For most, it’s their freedom.

Cato wished his brother had been his twin. He felt nothing but relief being away from Tamas, but by the end of the first week, he felt Aunny’s absence keenly. More than ever he was surrounded by people his age, all clamoring to sort themselves into little alliances, like practice for their inevitable political or academic futures. But even amongst the crowd Cato felt his peers’ uncertainty at him, and he mirrored the sentiment.

His mother had warned him, after all. They would try to hurt him.

He needed to find elves.

So it was with barely-contained hope that Cato watched the older students as they trickled back into the dormitories for the semester. His face was always turned towards the light of a window, peering out to watch the arrivals walking through the courtyard. It was a bit pointless, since the students below were too far away to tell if they had pointed ears or not, but he watched regardless.

The afternoon before the first class, Cato took the opportunity presented to him when a group of older students cluttered the hall by the classroom Cato was being shown for the countless time that week. He slipped wordlessly behind their long robes, darting between students as he slowly traced the path back to where he remembered the administrations offices being pointed out to him on the tour their first day.

Inside the office Cato was immediately greeted by a desk and, somewhere invisible behind the sheafs of papers and books that piled atop the desk, a secretary.

“Um…” Cato mumbled.

“You’ll need to speak up, child,” the pile of papers said, kindly.

“Um,” Cato tried again, marginally louder this time. His hands fisted in determination. “I wanted to know… I mean… see…”

When he dithered, brushing the toes of his small boots against each other absently, the papers spoke again a soft encouragement, “Take your time, dear.”

“Can you give me a list of the elvhen students in the Circle?” he finally managed. A bit blunt, but at least it was out there.

The secretary hummed, curious, and leaned far over the mountain of papers to actually look at Cato for the first time. He was met by the usual drop in the Secretary's’ face that Cato didn’t quite understand.

“May I give you a list of that description,” he corrected, frowning slightly. “I can have one written up and delivered, certainly. Who sent you?”

“Huh?”

“Who are you serving? Who wants the list? I need to know where to send it, boy.”

“Oh… oh! I, uh…” Cato hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he would be allowed the list of names, even if he had been allowed to wander off and ask for them. The assumption that he was a slave did not enrage him this time- at least not in the same way. The anger was there, but this person was… tall. Older. And had a thing he dearly wanted.

He felt- Cato puzzled the feeling out slowly, the fast, thrashing feeling that wanted to wiggle up his throat like an eel. He didn’t know. He hadn’t felt like this before. He just knew he didn’t like it.

But two weeks of uncertainty and abstract isolation and the hope of his own pack, his own elvhen alliance (friends) was now worth more to him than the secretary’s respect.

“M-matron Flavia,” he lied, looking away as he did. “But she needs it quick, so I can just wait here for it to be done.”

“Do you know why she needs it?” he asked offhandedly. Cato froze, trying to think of a lie that would make sense. In the end he didn’t have to; the secretary waved his hand, dismissing what he thought was a dull training slave. “Nevermind that, just take a seat. I’ll check with Records in a minute.”

Cato crawled into one of the tall seats, face flushed in a red bright enough to match his hair, and focused on bouncing the tip of his toes against where they brushed the floor. He didn’t understand the details of how he was feeling, but he did know there was anger there, and he got anger. He dug that up to focus on while he waited, the background buzz of whatever else was there slowly fading until there was just mad.

The secretary took his time, finishing whatever he was scrawling before preparing, folding and sealing it with the Circle’s wax seal. It was tossed to the top of one pile of papers and he finally stood, heading back to rooms further into the office, presumably to Records. Time crept by slowly while Cato stewed in fury until the secretary finally returned.

“I included the list of elves doing remote studies and post-enchanter studies because I assumed they didn’t want just the two names,” he explained, handing the folded paper off to Cato and shooing him on his way.

“Two names?” Cato asked, shaken. He unfolded the paper and saw a short list of names divided into years and location. His own name was at the top, and directly beneath that was scrawled in clean, elegant cursive was the second:

Calpernius Titus, age 13

Cato’s ears twitched inside their cuffs, wanting to swivel back in dismay. “But… there’s a lot of students. There’s got to be a hundred. There is only one other- there are only two elves?”

“‘Got to be a hundred,’” the secretary repeated, amused at a five-year-old’s estimations. “There are one thousand, one hundred and fourteen apprentices currently boarded in the Minrathous Circle, with about fifty apprentices enrolled and studying abroad.”

“And two elves?”

“Perhaps only two got in because lazy elves stand around <i>talking</i> when they have a job to be doing,” the secretary argued curtly before falling back into his seat. “Or perhaps it’s because we accept quality magi, not just any animal with a staff that applies. Less prestigious schools may stuff their classes with whoever can pay, but the Minrathous Circle has standards.”

Rage (and the murmuring feelings besides) surged into Cato’s tiny body, making his face contort into something ugly. The cuffs on his ears kept them from swiveling down low, but the impulse tugged at the piercings that held the cuffs in place. He bellowed out a huff through his nose.

“Matron says thanks,” he grumped, turning on his heels and stomping out before he accidentally set something on fire in a fit of pique.

--

Actually finding Calpernius proved to be more difficult than Cato had hoped. The layout of the school made sense, but Cato didn’t have much practice navigating outside of the home he grew up in, and counting the rooms and floors proved difficult when he still had to concentrate to count very well. Most of the older apprentices ignored him as he passed, mistaking him no doubt for a slave, but Cato remained prickled and alert regardless.

He was not lacking in directions. Although the first time was stilted and gave him echos of that weird, unplaceable feeling, Cato swallowed it down shakily and approached a slave scrubbing down the windows. It got easier from there. He lost his way many more times, but every slave that passed him knew where the differently-aged students were boarded, and after the surprise that he was asking them wore off, they answered his questions promptly and politely. They, at least, could tell on sight that Cato was a freeman and mage, which made the girl and secretary even stupider than slaves. The thought made him feel a little better.

His search ended as twilight began, staining the sky pink beyond the newly washed windows. The dorm master for Calpernius’ age group hadn’t known where Calpernius was when Cato explained himself, but one of the nearby apprentices interrupted.

“Titus is always at the library. Right next to the desk. Everybody always knows where to find him,” he said, smile strangely broad.

Cato took a good look at the apprentice, trying to figure out why there was an undertone of merriment to his words, trying to figure out where he’d heard something like that before. It made him uneasy, but the grin crinkling the edge of the boy’s pitch-brown eyes gave nothing away.

“Thanks,” Cato said, shoulders drawing inward as he took a step towards the dorm master.

The apprentice stepped forward again, drawing up close and resting a hand on the back of Cato’s neck. Cato stilled, stiff. “I could bring you to him myself, if you’d like!” the apprentice offered. “I know Titus will love to see you.”

“That’s okay,” Cato managed. “I know where that is. I passed it on the way up.”

“Master Regulus, I really do think I should escort him there. He’s young,” the apprentice reasoned.

The dorm master- Master Regulus- hummed absently even as he looked past Cato and the other boy to a gaggle of apprentices precariously close to setting a tapestry on fire. “Boys!” he snapped over their heads, before giving Cato and the apprentice the barest attention. “Yes, yes, whatever Andorus. Be back by curfew.”

The dorm master dismissed them, running off and shouting something about mage light and candles as he did so. Cato looked up to Andorus’ face and shrank at the houndish smile the boy returned.

“To the library,” Andorus said cheerfully, before coaxing Cato forward with a hand between his shoulder blades.

As soon as they left the dormitories, Cato began formulating a plan to escape. He couldn’t really outrun the older boy- his legs were far too short. The only hope he had was to distract him and hide, but apart from the obvious hiding spots in the blind spots of the window’s framing and the enclaves built into the ancient Imperial architecture, there was little cover for him. Perhaps in a group of other students? He would have to time that carefully and hope they were on his side if this Andorus began yelling for him.

Cato deliberated strategy, small body tense, the entire way to the library. When he was turned past the double doors and into the massive room, high-vaulted ceiling and rows upon rows of books expanding in what felt like miles in every direction, he was at first stunned at the room’s magnificence, the scent of old parchment and learning and an impossible to describe freedom in the shadow of the silent bookcases, and then stunned that he made it here without any sort of duplicity or attack.

Andorus motioned him forward again, smile cheshire-wide as ever, past the librarian’s desk and pointed to one of the nearest tables.

The boy at the table sat by himself, and the wrongness of him shook Cato’s core. His hair was long and its ends were frayed and frazzled, held loose like he was hiding behind a curtain. If he had been human, it would have seemed natural, but the rough, blistered edge of Calpernius’ ears peeked through the bolt of hair. His ears were round and humanoid, small where they had been mutilated.

“Are you Calpernius?” Cato asked, shyly, unable to stop staring at the amputated ear.

“Look, Cal! A new elf! He came looking for you and everything,” Andorus offered, mirth in his voice as he guided Cato forward with a gentle push.

Calpernius turned sharply, staring down at Cato with a strange face. His eyes were large, poorly matched to the face that held them. It was hard to tell if the look he gave was in response to Cato’s presence or if it was a permanent fixture from the artificial bridge of his nose. Cato didn’t know which he would prefer.

It was a disguise. A poor one, but one to make him, at a glance, look human.

“I don’t know him,” Calpernius murmured to Andorus. Then, down to Cato, “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. Don’t talk to me again.”

He began to gather the books he had laid out on the table, not meeting either of their eyes, when Andorus pressed. “Aw, come on Cal. You don’t feel any kinship? No ‘wild brothers of the forest’ or some elf shit? None at all? You’re going to just let this poor little bunny fend totally for itself?”

For emphasis, Andorus wrapped an arm around Cato’s shoulder and pinched his cheeks together, ignoring how Cato batted and clawed at him to stop, whimpering behind the hand.

“He’s not my responsibility. Fuck off,” Calpernius said flatly, heaving the books against his chest.

“Wow. Heartless,” Andorus marveled, letting Cato go with a shove. He took three steps forward before a sudden heavy draw of mana in the air made the pages of the open books around them turn, as if from a soft breeze.

“No combat magic in the library,” a voice rumbled. The three of them turned to the tall, imperious librarian overseeing them from behind her desk. She pointed a single elegant finger to a long sheet of paper and its many amendments nailed next to the door. Rules for the library. When she continued, she sounded more akin to a scolding mother. “You know that better than anyone, Titus.”

“Just a shield, Mistress,” Calpernius assured with a short, polite bow. He looked back to Andorus over his shoulder with a vexed look, and then down to Cato with an utterly scathing glare. He hesitated next to the door, nose wrinkled and making his already uncanny face ugly and mean. Next to Cato, Andorus moved towards him again, bouncing up on his toes and vibrating like a hound ready to give chase.

“The library is big enough,” Calpernius conceded, but his nose remained wrinkled, his teeth bare. He warned, “So, I better not see you again.”

Cato stood, stunned, and watched as Calpernius spirited past the library’s doors, Andorus coursing just after