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bright-haired-teacher · 1 year

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got here early this morning, like i do every morning, and the doors - all 4 of the double doors - to our hallway were locked. i went back downstairs, through the downstairs hallway and up the back stairwell which (thankfully) was not. sat down in my chair and started eating my breakfast while sending a ranty text about it to the group chat (4 other teachers here who are also tired of this damn place, bc they’re all in my department and hate what they did to ELA at this school)

my neighbor gets here with kids for tutoring, peeks her head in my door, and says, “thank you for getting here first!” lmao i needed that.

and that, dear friends, is what i am going to miss about this place. these are good people that i am leaving behind. (mind you, most of them are also leaving.) but we’ll all be scattered. they took a good thing - a strong, cohesive department who all respect and support each other, who all share ideas and solutions, who stand up for each other - and ruined it.

every one of us started this year with the intention to be returning next year. we spent time outside of school celebrating birthdays and milestones, helped one of us through a breakup, another through a death. we all showed up for people - when that former student died from a car accident, we all went to the vigil. when our school psych’s husband died, we all went to the funeral. we’ve had late-night conversations about injustices at the school and early morning pep-talks just to fucking show up. (and sometimes “sorry ladies, i can not be there today”)

in the 7 years i’ve been here, this team is the strongest it’s ever been. and admin even complimented us on that! we are a unit! we would speak to admin as a group, not individually. we would do our evaluations in pairs, not separately, and team teach our classes. we worked together. we are a unit, and admin claimed to love that.

and then they ruined it, by giving us a shit plan that we all knew was shit and we all said was shit and they ignored us, started babysitting us and criticizing our every move, and took away all our autonomy.

and they think we want to stay?

i want nothing more than the five of us to stay next year. i love these people. i’m sure i’ll find My People at my new school eventually, but i have My People now. i don’t want to lose them! (and i’m sure we’ll still chat, but it’s not the same ofc.)

but how can we stay when admin will just do the most to us, and expect us to lie down and take it? to violate contract and expect us to be okay with it? to change our teaching assignments around and think we won’t be upset? to take away everything that makes language arts great to teach and think we’ll just go along happily like nothing is the matter? fuck dude, even my students know i’m unhappy as shit with this and a lot of them are oblivious as a box of shit lol. many have told me “this is bullshit” and “i haven’t learned anything since december” and i’m like i KNOOOOOOOOW i tooooooold them. but all i can do is apologize and say “it wasn’t my decision, i’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be this way.” like. no one feels worse about it than i do.

admin thinks this is all fine, we’re all perfectly happy and can’t wait to start next year with their boots on our necks. admin has already learned that 3 of us are leaving, and once i get an offer 3 makes 4. half of the reading department is dipping too. want to know how to nuke an entire english/reading department? dm me for my admin’s emails.

anyway. idk where i’m going with this, just a lot of emotion. anger, frustration, SADNESS. i wouldn’t be here right now without the support of these amazing teachers (and, well, my therapist lbr). it shouldn’t have been this way. they could have listened to us. they could have taken our concerns. they didn’t. they didn’t. and now they don’t have an ELA/reading department next year.

i hope they’re pleased with themselves, though. actions have consequences. you fucked around, and you’re about to find out.

ok i’m done. i should get some of this grading done or something lol idk.

#rant #i guess?#idk

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gettothestabbing · 2 years

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Back from the real world!

And I got some venting to do!

SO. I didn’t have Internet except at work (where I’m not supposed to be on it when not on break, a rule I broke a lot and feel only slightly bad about) for about 3 weeks. And this happened about the same time as the death of Kazuki Takahashi. Who created my favorite manga, and the first anime/show I loved as a child that wasn’t something my parents picked out for me.

I know my blog is a heady mix of politics and fanart and real art and a bunch of things now. But when I started out, and I was afraid to post anything political, I was following mostly Yu-Gi-Oh! fanblogs. (And Communismkills. Love her.) I’ve posted a lot less about YGO over time. This is partly because of the Obsession Cycle (see below) and partly because I am influenced by the content that people I like post. Hence why I got more political from following CK, more artistic from following art blogs, etc.

The Obsession Cycle is a cycle of hyperfixations on certain stories that I love more than any others. Although new stories are often added to the cycle, making it longer or shorter, it always includes Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters, Gravity Falls, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Hey Arnold!, Disney in some form, and Ghibli in some form. The cycle is complete either when I drop all hyperfixations for a period of time, or when I return to the fixation I started with in the most recent iteration. My sister, explaining this concept to her husband, pointed out that I used to cycle through this entirely within 8 months. Then, adding new media in and having more to do in college and law school, the cycle widened dramatically to 3 years. Right now, she estimates that my cycle is about 2 years long. The implication of course is that there has been a regression.

I would agree with that. To be completely honest, I was about to reread the manga when I heard Takahashi had died, and that news hit me very hard. While I am not interested in large swathes of the franchise that Yu-Gi-Oh! spawned, and therefore do not see Takahashi as an ideal, I have always respected and admired his work. It is also easy to sympathize with him losing some creative control over time due to the insane popularity of Duel Monsters, but he found a way to end his story satisfactorily (twice, if we include the Dark Side of Dimensions movie) despite one game taking massive precedence.

So without Internet, having just moved into a new apartment, with a lot of frustration at work, and feeling very isolated and upset, I restarted my cycle and started shoving Yu-Gi-Oh! into my brain as fast and as hard as possible. I have been very very annoying to talk to lately, even to myself. My sister has been delicately asking me “when I’m going to be done” with this phase for at least a week. I don’t really see an end in sight, and I can never predict when the feverish fascination will fade.

Honestly, this is a period of mourning. Even though the story concluded long ago, Yu-Gi-Oh! has always had a special place in my heart. It helped me make friends (through playing the card game w/boys at school) and learn new ways to express myself artistically. (Yes, I wrote fic, no, you can’t read it.) It was something I enjoyed that no one else in my family liked.

It was also my safe place. I was nine when I got into the show. You know what else happened when I was nine? I started puberty ahead of everyone else in my class and I was subsequently molested. I took real comfort and strength from how characters stood up for themselves and made themselves comfortable in their own bodies (or others’ bodies, as the case may be). I liked that they could make stupid mistakes but still have their friends’ support.

I only ever got to see the first two seasons because for some reason the TV station would never air anything past the first half of the Battle City finals. I also owned the first volume of the manga, which is extremely different from the dub I knew and hinted at a wealth of interpretation and content that was beyond my reach. Then my card-playing friend moved away and my mom died. Real life stuff like that got in the way of my exploring the story further until I was in high school and found the abridged series.

I never let myself finish the manga before, because I didn’t have all the volumes. Now I’m waiting on the last one to come in the mail. Because I always expect the cycle to come back again, I try never to fully exhaust any of these media properties. If it appears I will run out of the finite content for any of them, I try to start distracting myself with lesser media, chores, anything else to draw it out. I have to assume other people do this but I’ve never met anyone IRL who does (that would admit it anyway).

Despite all of this, I’m still an adult with a job. I’m trying to manage and balance my hyperfixation with all the other things I need to do. Like if I can’t have any free time, I’ll play instrumental music from the show as I work. I guess I expected to outgrow the Obsession Cycle without having to expend noticeable effort in doing so. Like my dad has told me many times, “it’s a phase.” Sometimes you don’t return to things you used to like, sure. But I resent them applying that label to Yu-Gi-Oh!. It’s really not a phase. It was a part of my childhood (then rapidly vanishing) that helped me learn the person I wanted to be as an adult. It still inspires me so much.

And aside from all that, I think having that break from regular Internet time helped me refine what I want out of that time now that I have it back. I enjoyed how much reading and organizing I was able to get done. I felt less distracted, even as I chafed at my difficulties in listening to music or communicating with friends. I may post less for awhile, maybe permanently. I don’t think I’ll ever really leave Tumblr or the Internet. And I didn’t enjoy being forcibly without it. But I feel like my relationship with the Internet will be healthier going forward.

#personal #pers com #wherein Abby yells about yugioh not being a Phase #Mai Valentine was totally an inspiration for me because other cartoons didn't have women with chests like that #really helpful for when you're the only girl in your grade who has to wear an adult bra #hyperfixations #yugioh #yugioh DM

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casspurrjoybell-28 · 5 months

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The Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 17

*Warning Adult Content*

Fight - Kao

"Koa. Focus."

I scoff.

"I am."

"You are distracted by the butterfly," Cyrus huffs.

"Am not. Dickhead."

He's been in a sour mood all morning, ever since I arrived for training.

I watch the poor butterfly flutter off into the trees, giving it a silent goodbye.

Not my fault observing the little creature is better than doing the tortuous exercise he calls push-ups.

I'm only on my fifteenth one but it feels like the hundredth.

"If you are not going to be serious about this, then you can go home."

He gives me a sharp look, those icy eyes of his alight with annoyance.

"Excuse me? What is your actual problem? Maybe you're the one who needs to go home and get up on the right side of the bed."

He turns away, his shoulders squared as he stalks off to where our water flasks lay.

He takes a long, drawn-out swig from his.

Yikes.

Did me shutting him down the other day upset him that much?

Well, it's not my problem if his feelings are hurt.

I've been very clear about my boundaries from the start.

I walk over, stretching my arms with a yawn.

"Since you're so clearly fed up with me not being able to do one hundred push-ups in ten minutes like your little Alpha friends, how about we try fighting again?"

His eyes narrow.

"I will scare you."

My face flushes.

"I... I wasn't scared last time. Just surprised."

He sighs, muscled arms flexing as he crosses them over his chest.

I find myself mesmerized by the prominent veins running down them and how the tendons ripple beneath his pale skin before quickly snapping myself out of it.

I hope he didn't notice.

"You are very stubborn, Koa. Do you know that?"

"And? I thought you liked that about me."

I raise an eyebrow, hoping to get him in a better mood.

This grump is not so fun to have as a teacher.

I can tell I've succeeded when I see him attempting to restrain a smile.

"It has it's charm," he admits.

"Sooo... can we get on with the fighting? Ooh, can I use a knife?"

I eye one of the multiple he has strapped to his belt.

"I am afraid that would remind me of the traumatic events of our first meaning."

"Oh, don't be a baby."

I roll my eyes.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't be calling an Alpha more than twice my size a baby.

"Alright. If you want to learn, let us start, then, with basic combat. I will teach you a few moves and you must show me that you have mastered them before we move on."

Hah.

Easy.

"Cyrus. For fucks sake, just let me hit you."

"Then you would not learn," he replies smugly, dodging another one of my attacks.

He is infuriatingly untouchable in the art of combat.

"Well how am I supposed to practice any of the moves if you block them every single time?"

I attempt a palm heel strike that he taught me to his face, which he easily catches in one of his huge hands.

"Ugh," I huff in frustration.

"You show everything on your face and in your body movement, my moon. An opponent can guess your next move in an instant if you do this."

"Staring at my body now, Cyrus?" I hiss, ripping my hand from his grasp and his face colors at my words.

I take advantage of the moment, attempting a side kick to his leg and actually landing it this time.

I miss his knee, which is the place he instructed me to aim for but I still did it nevertheless.

I squeal, jumping up and down.

"Hah. Take that," I cheer.

He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face, a small smile on his lips.

"That is cheating."

I put my hands on my hips.

"Don't get distracted, then."

"That sounds like a a challenge," he steps closer, towering over me with his seven foot frame.

Gosh, I forget how huge he is sometimes.

His gaze is intense as he takes me in and I swallow nervously, forcing myself to stand my ground.

I'm about to demand him to tell me what he's doing when his leg kicks out, raking across the ground below me and sweeping my own legs out from under me.

I yelp as I topple backward to the ground, landing on my ass.

I scowl up at him.

"Asshole."

He smirks, reaching out a hand to help me up.

Stubbornly, I take it.

"Another tip, little wolf, do not let your guard down even when you think you have won," he says as he pulls me up and I stumble into him, bracing my hands on his muscled chest.

He sucks in a breath and I look up at him, realizing how close we are.

I'm making him nervous.

I can see it in his expression, the way he struggles to hold my gaze.

It's funny.

I am well aware that Alphas find me attractive, it's a burden I have faced my whole life but never have I ever affected someone like this.

The Alphas that tormented me always saw me as lesser, not caring for what I thought of them.

Never did they try to impress me or seem unnerved by my presence.

But Cyrus, oh... Gosh, the guy is slowly chipping away at my exterior with his innocent reactions.

How can a giant like him be... cute to me?

Alphas have always treated me violently, like I was nothing but a pretty toy for them to use and now here stands before me a man of their kind, who hasn't laid a hand on me to hurt me even once.

Well, except for making me fall on my ass just now.

He's altering everything I thought I knew about Alphas.

Of course, there will always be the douches that abused me back home or who harass me even here.

But then there's Cyrus, the biggest man I've ever laid eyes on yet doesn't use his superior strength to hurt innocents.

To hurt me.

And I know the bar is low because look at who's the damn father of my child but Moon Goddess... I wish Cyrus didn't check all the boxes.

It's getting harder and harder to push him away.

I'm too hurt deep inside.

I'm scarred, physically and mentally and it is painful to be so aware of it.

If I let someone into my heart again, like I let Des, the hurt that will follow is sure to be excruciating.

I can't risk that, not when I have Oliver.

I have to be a good mother.

I have to protect that.

I can't get distracted by gorgeous blue eyes and heated smirks and insanely sculpted abdominal muscles and silky black hair that I long to run my fingers through... Oh, fuck.

And because I don't know how to deal with my thoughts and feelings at the moment, I knee him in the crotch.

He doubles over with a small groan.

Not my fault that he taught me that move.

"I think you need to listen to your own advice," I say proudly as he shoots me an exasperated look and I stick my tongue out at him in response.

I'm extremely sore walking home through the forest and also kind of jittery from that moment with Cyrus earlier.

I need to get a freaking hold of myself.

When I find myself smiling like an idiot, I slap my cheek.

"Well, look what we have here," a leering voice comes from behind me and I whip around in fright.

Two Alphas stand there, menacing looks on their faces as they survey me.

My heart drops to my stomach when I recognize who they are.

The ones from last time.

Rex and Leroy, I remember their names were.

The Alphas that harassed me before.

"Really? Training with the Alpha? What a fucking waste of time," Rex sneers as he takes in my fitted fighting garbs.

"At least you look sexy in those. Only way you'd win in a fight is if your opponent gets distracted by your ass."

Oh, fuck it. I'm mad now.

I march straight up to him with a smile sweet enough to rot teeth and their eyes both widen in surprise.

Then I promptly deliver a swift uppercut to his jaw.

I hear an uncanny crack and Rex reels back, yowling in pain.

Immediately Leroy is on me, fisting a hand through my curls, using that as leverage to throw me to the ground.

Pain arches through my skull before I collide with the hard forest floor, my right side taking the brunt of the damage.

I can already feel the bruises forming as I struggle to push myself up from the leaves and dirt.

Rex is still cradling his jaw in pain, shooting me a murderous glare.

I snarl up at them.

"Did a hit from weak Omega like me really hurt you that much? Need mommy to kiss your boo-boo?" I say in a mock-pity voice.

"You."

Rex lunges for me but I roll out of the way, leaping to my feet a few feet away from him.

I ignore the sharp pain that shoots up my leg at the movement.

I assume a fighting stance, eyes darting around the trees trying to decide the best direction to escape in.

If only I could remember which way the town was... Before I can even react, he's lunging again and I'm not able to evade him quick enough this time.

He tackles me to the ground, his heavy weight holding me down as he roughly grabs my face in his hands.

"No matter how much a weak thing like you trains, you're an Omega. You understand? You won't win. So don't get all high and mighty just because our Alpha is your mate."

I stare defiantly up at him, refusing to back down.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

I've had enough of Alphas wanting to put me in what they think is my place.

He doesn't like that, his hand comes down with force on my cheek, the impact driving my head to the side.

"Rex, if you go too far and Cyrus finds out..." Leroy warns but Rex scoffs.

"He won't. This guy's too proud to tattle off to him," he sneers down at me. "Isn't that right?"

I refuse to answer because his words are true.

Hiding behind a big strong Alpha like the 'weak thing' these guys think I am is the last thing I want to do.

It's shameful and cowardly.

I'd just be proving that they're right about me.

"Look at you, acting tough even now. What'll it take for you to give it up?" he shakes his head.

My face is aching, a metallic taste inside of my mouth.

My teeth must have pierced my cheek when he hit me.

Of course this is my luck. Of course it is.

Even in this new pack where I thought everything would be paradise, these alphas can never leave me alone.

They take joy in tormenting me, like the sick bastards they are.

"We should go, Rex. Trainees might be coming through here soon," Leroy urges and finally the Alpha gets off me.

But he's not done.

Looming over me, he lands a harsh kick to my side.

"You don't belong here, Omega. Not you or your pup. Sooner or later, Cyrus will see how worthless you are. A used-up whore," he spits with venom before walking away.

I lay there lifelessly until I can't hear their steps anymore.

I use my remaining strength to push myself up off the ground, wincing at my newfound injuries.

I scoot over to a tree, my back falling against it as I wheeze for breath, hand going up to touch the tender spot on my face.

'Don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry.'

I bite my lip in punishment as a betraying tear slips down my cheek.

I quickly wipe it away, not bothering to be gentle and irritating my injured face further.

I sniffle, looking up at the darkening sky and blinking rapidly to dry my eyes.

'Don't cry. You're fine. You've faced worse. So much worse. Don't cry.'

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myname-isnia · 9 months

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I need to vent. So badly. I need to do it out loud because I’ve had enough of being stuck in my own thoughts

I need to talk to someone who’d actually listen, who wouldn’t chastise me or try to turn everything into a moral lesson or pretend like they know me better than I know myself

It’s why I can’t talk to my mom. Why do I have to live in a world where I can’t talk about my problems to my mom?

She doesn’t get me, not in a “I’m a moody teenager nobody understands me” kind of way, but in a “you know nothing about what I’m going through or crying about, why are you acting like just because you listen to instagram psychologists in your free time means you’re the most enlightened person on god’s green earth??”

I don’t have anyone I could go to. My mom’s out, who’s left? Not my little sister, definitely not my shitty dad. Who else? My grandma’s the reason my mom’s the way she is, so not her. My dad’s SIL is one of my most favourite people in the world but I don’t feel like I can come crying to her, she’s too blunt, too brutally honest. She’s helped me greatly before, but I’d go to her for any problem except emotional.

I don’t want to go to my friends. I already was the cause of a fight that ended a fourteen year friendship. I’ve already showed them that I’m extremely unstable and prone to hysterics. If I start openly crying to them about such seemingly minor things, they’ll get sick of me and I’ll lose them. I don’t know how to make friends. I don’t have anyone else.

And my problems are just so, so stupid. So inconsequential to anyone but me. Even for myself, all they bring are tears and headaches, and yet here I am, sobbing over them again and again, intentionally throwing myself down self hatred spirals that I know every curve of like the back of my hand, going throw the same thought processes that I know will make me upset.

Why do I keep doing it? Do I just like to make myself suffer? Have I no real problems?

If it wasn’t obvious, I’m once again being a whiny bitch about my art

We’ve been here a million times. My skills are nowhere as good as I’d like them to be, I’m complaining about it on tumblr dot com instead of taking steps to improve, when I try to talk about it and people give me actually good advice I get mad and hysterical because I’m not being validated in my useless, self-imposed suffering that will lead me nowhere. Yeah yeah, what else is new?

To get good at art you need to study. You need to look at what other people do, how they create art that you like, and try to learn from it. But whenever I look at people who are more skilled than I am, I turn into a fucking toddler. Why them?? Why are they better than me??? I get so irrationally angry that I literally only follow one artist, a… I suppose ‘friend’ is a nice term, though I don’t know how accurate it is. If it isn’t, then a mutual. And I get insanely jealous of her too, but I’m better at containing it. We don’t talk much, but I still don’t wanna ruin what little relationship we have because of my inability to process my emotions.

Honestly? I’m just tired. Completely fucking exhausted from all these tantrums I throw. It seems I say it so often lately, but I truly am sick of myself. The fits, the crying into my pillow until I get a pounding headache, the pushing everyone away because I can’t stand the embarrassing ordeal of being cared for… I don’t know how much more of it all I can take. I wish I didn’t exist.

My mom sat me down today when she noticed how I angrily shut off my tablet. I spent a year desperate for a shoulder to cry on, so I told her that I’m frustrated by my art, or rather, by the lack of it. I’ve told her before over the phone and she always started lecturing me about not giving up and trying and practicing and how the greats weren’t born great and all that stuff. I thought she’d be different in real life. She wasn’t.

She says I’m lazy. Says I don’t want to learn. That I don’t try. But I do. I try and I try and I try. I create canvases and start sketching and get frustrated and delete them and want to throw my tablet at the wall and snap my stylus in half… but I don’t stop trying. And sometimes, very rarely, I manage to draw something I’m happy with in the moment. Often I’ll think it should be killed with fire in a few days time, but it’s the moment that counts.

Mom tries to teach me theory she doesn’t know. She doesn’t have an artistic bone in her body, yet acts like she’s been drawing all her life. She tells me to trace over art books, to look at cartoons and movies and learn how expressions and poses work. No matter how much I yell, how much I tearfully explain that that’s not the main problem, that if I need to draw something I’ll figure out a way, she won’t listen. She can say she understands all she wants, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t get that I can’t physically visualise what I want to draw

I wanted to make some Green Opal art for a few days now. I’ve only drawn them four times before – walking side by side, sleeping cuddled up, Opal kissing Midori on the cheek and Midori holding Opal as she flips Suyin off. I tried thinking what I’d want to draw them like this time. Sitting together, one’s head on another’s shoulder? Actually kissing on the lips? Bending? Reading a book?

I tried to picture it in my head. I couldn’t come up with anything. I looked at dozens of references. Nothing seemed right. I read through lists of romantic interaction prompts. None of them inspired me. My mind’s eye was completely empty, and I don’t have aphantasia or whatever it’s called, I can normally visualise pretty much anything. But when it comes to art, it’s like someone slips a blindfold over it.

And say I did come up with what to draw – then what? Draw it? With my anatomy so wonky it could classify as body horror? My thick and lifeless lineart that suffers most from my heavyhandedness? My colours which I can never memorise the theory of? My shading which is basic at best and completely nonsensical at worst? And say I did manage to make something decent even with all of that added into the equation – then what? Post it and get a grand total of three notes?

I know art is first and foremost supposed to be for yourself, you’re supposed to enjoy making it and looking at it. But if I don’t, if I hate the process of drawing and the end result so much that sometimes I feel like killing myself over, what else is there for me to do but seek feedback? A spare like. A causal reblog with no added tags. There are days when those serve as my lifeline. Days when the hundreds of screenshots I’ve made over two and a half years of people saying nice things to me are the only things that keep me going. Even if 80% of those are things said by my friends, who are basically obligated to say nice things to me.

But if I hate art so much, why do I keep at it?

I don’t know

To prove something, maybe? To whom? My parents? Myself? Society? Probably not. I don’t have anything to prove

To leave my mark on the internet? To make myself feel like I’m doing something instead of just lazing about all day?

Am I just doing it by inertia because once upon a time a lonely middle schooler convinced herself she was gonna be an artist?

I really don’t know. If it doesn’t make me happy, what’s the point? If the number of people who interact with my art could be counted on one hand, what’s the point? If it drives me to going insane with screaming and crying at least once a week, what’s the fucking point?

I should just quit. It won’t be a big loss. Maybe then my mental health will actually improve, once I stop dragging it down into the gutter with every non finished piece that can barely count as being started

Quit writing while I’m ahead too. It’s not like I’ve written anything in a month anyway. And before that, it took me almost a year and a half to post something. It’s clearly not for me.

#to anyone I owe a reply message to – I apologise. I’ll need five to ten business days to recover from this #if I ever do #knowing me I’ll recover and then get into this all over again by the end of the week #my mom made me promise to spend time with her tomorrow morning #I really don’t want to but she won’t listen #I just want to be alone #I thought crying to someone would make me feel better #somehow it’s even lonelier than crying by myself in an empty apartment clutching a dirty stuffed animal #my head is killing me. it feels like it’ll split open any second #maybe I should just go to bed

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prodigaldaughteralice · 2 years

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So I just had a nightmare about being outed to my mum, which is weird as hell considering 1) I’m already out to her and 2) she’s bi herself and it’s all fine??

but it wasn’t about me being gay it was about genderqueer…ness… which she would also be fine with irl and probably actually has a decent handle on even though I’ve never explicitly said so (bc even I’m not sure how to define it lmao)

anyway the dream started with me wandering through the back of a school campus, and bumping into a bunch of people dressed in faux-medieval costumes. I asked them if there was a renn faire in town and they said no, these were just their celebratory outfits, they were heading to the trans pride parade that was right behind campus. I was like “oh that’s great, that’s so cool!” and this one girl kinda eyed me (not cruelly, just curiously) and asked if I was “part of the community”. I just kind of went “ehhhhhh…..” for a really long time because no I don’t think I count as trans, I’m afab and I still mostly am a woman I’m just also some other things and also nothing, and the girl kinda laughed and put her hand on my shoulder and said “I get it, you’re welcome if you wanna come” which was very sweet.

But then I was walking through a more city kind of area and my phone was doing something weird, and I realized that my mother had kind of butt-dialed me into a group call that was supposed to just be a direct call between her and my sister. And she told my sister “you know [Alice] just came out as nonbinary” and my sister was like “took long enough” and I lost my shit because I hadn’t told mum and also I don’t think nonbinary is really an accurate term for me even though I don’t really know what is, and I was just like MUM WHAT which let them know I was on the call, and I kept asking mum who’d told her that and she wouldn’t answer, but was kinda “geez why are you upset” and said we’d talk about it later but then was trying to talk about trivial other stuff and I hung up on her

(weird that my sister was so gung ho about it in my dream, when she’s said some frustrating stuff irl on the “oh come on everyone feels like that” note but oh well)

anyway the next bit of the dream mostly had to do with me trying to get home, making my way through the city, trying to find a way to lock up my bike, etc, except that the whole time I was also trying to reach out to an online friend bc she’d said something about me being nonbinary and I was like “ok where did you get that from maybe that’s where my mum got it from”. For some dream-ass reason we had to communicate only over Snapchat and it was buggy as hell. Anyway she said she’d used some kind of AI to create a compilation of all the art by various mutual of hers to put on her blog and that was ‘how she knew’; I looked at her blog and there was nothing there, she said she’d decided not to post it bc she didn’t like having AI art on her blog. I asked if she could DM me the one of my art so I could see it and figure out what was going on, but she didn’t reply probably because Snapchat is buggy as hell. It didn’t feel like she was ignoring me.

anyway then I was in an outdoor restaurant with my mum and sister and her boyfriend, and I was kind of roiling inside and trying to figure out who had told my mum, but she blithely didn’t want to talk about it and meanwhile I was supposed to be playing my sister in some word game on my phone while also kind of cringing away from my sister’s bf because we don’t really get along.

next section of the dream was similar except that it was in a second-hand shop and we were all exploring it except I was mostly trying to find my mum so I could ask her 1) where she got the idea I was nb 2) why she thought it was appropriate to tell my sister before she’d even talked to me about it. I kept not being able to find her, but my dad was there and he hugged me and tried to cheer me up by showing me cool stuff on the shelves.

I hadn’t managed to talk to her about it by the end of the dream.

#pd alice personal #gender shit /#mild nbphobia /#Not sure how else to tag that #anyway I don’t actually consider myself nonbinary really but there’s something fucky going on with my gender idfk #dream journal

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tears-0f-the-lynx · 2 years

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long vent/rant about my writing below im cutting it cause it got long lol

i feel a bit better from my mental breakdown over my writing last night. i wrote for a bit anyways while some mcdonalds pov videos played in the bg (this youtuber shows the food-making processes and its super cool. it seems like he really loves his job too. the small sounds in the kitchen are really relaxing to hear and watching him prepare meals is honestly mesmerizing.) i think ive figured out that i only really get upset abt my writing when im not actively working on a fic. if i am in the middle of writing, i dont seem to think about it much. sometimes when reading my stuff back i get overly critical though, but its usually not terribly bad. i think i just need to stop reading fics at this rate, at least until i can have a healthy relationship with reading them. i suppose thats just how the cookie will crumble for now.

even little things like this make me realize i need to see a counselor to get advice and so they can help me achieve that healthy relationship that i miss. i miss reading fics for fun so much. i try to, but i always think about how my stuff compares.

i do that with art ofc, but its not nearly as obsessive. im much better at keeping a healthy relationship with viewing peoples art and comparing it to mine. honestly, i dont even know if id consider it "comparing." i usually dont get frustrated and sad about my artistic abilities when seeing another beautiful piece. i just think about what i can try to implement into my next piece, but when i do that with writing, it comes from a place of frustration instead of inspiration.

in fact, theres an artist that i greatly admire. im jealous of their art, but its inspired me to emulate the same sort of style and aesthetic into my fanart. itll take a while and a lotta hard work to get there. i know that very well, but one day ill have enough motivation to start working on those changes.

whenever im faced with a writing style that i like, its sheer envy. i want to find the same sort of inspiration that i have when looking at an artists work that i admire, but im afraid i wont get there, and im honestly not sure why because i used to have that same negative fuel when looking at peoples pieces. it just feels so far away.

#worthless cries

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tsuzuruteeth · 3 years

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Vil Rant: Why His Overblot was Valid

So I’ve seen a lot of not so hot takes on Vil’s overblot. Some people believe that his reason for overblot wasn’t good enough in comparison to the others. Most of the others overblotted due to some trauma from their childhood that never really got resolved to sum it up very vaguely. Vil on the other hand, it seemingly wasn’t like that. Vil’s overblot was due to envy. Pure envy.

Or was it?

It wasn’t. So as the resident Vil stan, I am going to take my time to explain why Vil’s overblot made sense and it isn’t as petty as some people think it is.

Vil himself is a very mischaracterized character, so it’s no surprise that people are not seeing the full picture.

Vil’s whole character is based on hard work. Most people would assume it’s beauty but it isn’t, at least not fully. For Vil, beauty isn’t his end goal but a tool to achieve his end goal, this is made clear in his overblot flashback. Now some people might not be convinced, but this isn’t a character analysis, so I’m not going to delve too deep into his values and why they’re his values for now.

So the reason he overblotted, for the people who take Vil at face value anyway instead of learning his motives, is because he was jealous Neige was more beautiful than him. He overblotted out of envy because he couldn’t stand being second best.

Now this isn’t wrong, but it isn’t the full picture. Too see the full thing playout I’m gonna run through a little Vil timeline with you. And “because I am so kind” and I know not everyone out there is a fan of Vil, so probably wouldn’t take the time to read his personal stories, I will stick to things mentioned in chapter 5.

So starting from Vil’s childhood. We see this part in his overblot flashback but even as a child Vil would always get villain roles and because of this he is ostracized by the other children, apart from Jack (Just as a reference this is also mentioned in his robes sr personal story). This didn’t really bother Vil much from what we saw, but it showed us that Vil was a bit more mature for his age, as being in the industry he probably had to be.

Next thing we see is how Neige always gets the main parts while Vil is always the villain. So this is where Vil’s envy of Neige starts. However, at this stage in his life it’s not about his beauty, it’s because he gets the roles Vil wants. Vil then goes on to talk about how all he wants is to be the heroine for once, yet he knows this will never happen. He is mature enough to realise that life doesn't work that way, no matter how hard you work something can never be achieved, hence his frustration begins.

So throughout Chapter 5 we can see Neige be mentioned and Vil’s vows to defeat him. He constantly asks Mira about the beauty rankings only to see Neige be number one. Which doesn’t seem such a big deal at first, until you think about how much hard work Vil puts in. Although, if you think about it, it’s still a bit petty at this stage, which is why it doesn’t cause overblot just yet. However, it does make his previous childhood frustration towards Neige grow.

Another thing that I feel I should mention quickly, is that Vil personally doesn’t really have anything against Neige himself per say, if it was someone else in Neige’s place he would be salty towards them. He really just hates the situation and circumstances, not Neige as a person.

Anyway back to the timeline. This is where it starts to go wrong. The VDC rehearsal. Vil put effort into the performance. We saw how strict he was, how dedicated he was to make sure everything was perfect. He put his all into it. He even made the song and dance himself, and played a key role in the actual performance. He made that performance to perfection. He even was number one on the search results for the word “beauty”! Only for everyone to fuss over Neige. Neige did a remix of a nursery rhyme and it is mentioned that the choreo wasn’t in sync.When Vil checked Mira again, Neige was back to number one. This is what tipped Vil over the edge.

I have seen some people claim that his actions were uncalled for and petty, because music isn’t just about being perfect, it’s for having fun and making everyone else enjoy your performance too! You don’t need to be perfect to perform well and make the audience love you! Vil should hold himself to lesser standards and realise it’s not a competition, everyone is beautiful and talented in their own way!

I see your point. I really do. But, I think you need to change your perspective a little to see what really is going on.

Put yourself in Vil’s shoes for example. Imagine you worked really hard on something, like an art project. You slaved weeks over it, making sure it was the best quality it can be. Finally you put it into a competition. Only to be beat out with a drawing that is half complete and was finished the night before. Could you manage to tell yourself to just let it go? There’s value in all art right? So shouldn’t you just be happy for the winner? It might be the right thing to do, but can you honestly say that you wouldn’t be absolutely seething inside? After all you went through? All that effort? I know for a fact I would be fuming with rage. Maybe I’m just a bad, selfish person but it's true. Although I think most people would at least be a little upset at this outcome. And Vil was.

Now you may agree with my point above, but how does that justify Vil trying to KILL Neige? That’s the beauty of it. It doesn’t. Just like Riddle, all of Vil’s views came crashing down before him the moment people started to fawn over Neige.

He always thought that hard work would get you to where you need to be, but he worked as hard as he could yet he still failed. Instead someone who hasn’t worked hard, someone who didn’t take the VDC seriously, someone who was only there for fun, beat him out. It didn’t help that he was given hope by being number one, only to have that hope snatched from him right after Neige performed. What is he supposed to do now? If he can’t beat Neige with talent, if he can’t beat Neige with hard work, how will he beat Neige? Easy. All he has to do is get rid of Neige.

So yes, trying to kill Neige was extreme, but to Vil, that was the only way he thought he could beat him.

You might be wondering why is it a competition in the first place? Simply because that’s the type of person Vil is. He doesn’t want to be second best, he’s a perfectionist so the only number that matters is being number one.

But this doesn’t cause his overblot. This isn’t the snapping point for Vil. The snapping point was him realising what he had done, what he was about to do. He was about to do something ugly. He even mentions that it doesn’t matter if everyone forgives him, he can’t forgive himself. Then, he overblots.

So, Vil’s overblot was a combination of frustration, high expectations and just all together feeling like he isn’t good enough. It’s probably the most relatable overblot so far, as I’m sure we’ve all been in a position where we’ve snapped because something seems hopeless no matter how hard we try. It’s easy to tell someone to stop holding themselves to such high standards, but as the saying goes, it’s easier said than done.

In terms of his after overblot, I don’t see Vil lessinging his normal standards, he will still try his best and make sure everyone around him does the same. He just maybe won’t compare himself to others as much.

In conclusion, Vil’s overblot wasn’t uncalled for or petty, it actually made perfect sense. Thanks for listening or should I say reading my Ted Talk.

#vil #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland neige #neige leblanche #vil schoenheit #twst vil #twst #neige #overblot #twst neige #twisted wonderland vil

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maybeacrowdedmind · 3 years

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My Headcanoned Autistic Characters Part 1:

After seeing that people enjoyed my post on autistic characters both canon and headcaoned by yours truly, I decided to go into a little more detail about the characters I see as being autistic and why. So let part 1 commence!

Parker - Leverage:

I first started watching Leverage when I was about 11 or 12 years old. Prior to seeing Parker, I had never seen a book or tv show/movie character who was like me and not being made the butt of every joke. Parker is an extremely literal character in both her speech and her mannerisms. She is also very blunt and doesn't speak in metaphors; she simply says what she means. She also gets very excited over things that the other characters don't seem to get (like her love of Christmas and Santa Claus) and she is frustrated when things don't go how they are supposed too. Furthermore, Parker is shown to freak out when the plan goes wrong, and she is also often shown to say something socially "off" and have the other characters explain to her that just because it's true, doesn't always mean you should say it. However, despite having so many autistic traits that autistic people and characters are often shamed for, the rest of the team is accepting of her, and while they tease her, they do it in the same way with everyone. I still remember how happy I felt to finally see a character onscreen who was so similar to me, who was allowed to have agency and wasn't there to be the laughingstock of the Leverage team. Now, I can't remember which episode it was season and episode wise, but one of my favorites was the one where Parker has to wear the heavy shoes to match the mark's gait so she doesn't trip off the sensors, and when practicing, she starts freaking out because it doesn't feel right. As a person with extreme sensory issues, scenes like that mean a lot to me, because rather than have Hardison get upset with her or tell her to suck it up, he helps keep her calm and helps her to manage it comfortably.

Anya Jenkins - Buffy the Vampire Slayer:

Anya is another character whose way of speaking is very similar to mine. She is also very blunt, and speaks unabashedly and in a brutally honest manner. Anya also doesn't understand how the human world works because she is/was a vengeance demon. Now, I'm not a vengeance demon turned human (or am I?), but I am an autistic person living in a neurotypical world that I don't really get. Anya also does not understand social cues or what having a filter means as evidenced by the fact that she often talks about stuff that is not "socially acceptable" to talk about, which I can definitely relate to (throwback to when I brought up that being a Communist would be way better than being a N**i at prom, effectively bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. It's a long story). As such, I see her as autistic, because again, I see myself in several of her mannerisms.

Mabel Pines - Gravity Falls:

I know for a fact that I'm not the only person who sees the mystery twins as autistic. I mean, to me, it's obvious, especially with Mabel. Mabel is an enthusiastic girl, whose special interests range from Sev'ral Timez to golf to arts and crafts. When she goes after something, she does so wholeheartedly and doesn't care if other people try to dissuade her. Mabel is also shown to have a great love for things staying the same, like her and Dipper going trick or treating and both of them staying together after the summer, and she gets both upset and sad when things change. Mabel is unafraid to be herself, but still takes hurtful comments to heart. A good example of this is when Pacifica tells Mabel that she is too silly and will never be taken seriously, leading Mabel to try to act different than her natural self for the remainder of the episode until the end. This is very similar to autistic people being told that the way they exist is incorrect due to not being NT and leading them to mask when around other people. Lastly, Mabel shows self-stimulatory behavior and comfort stims by going to sweater town.

Dipper Pines - Gravity Falls:

Like his twin, Dipper has a special interests, primarily mysteries and conspiracy theories. He spends a lot of time compiling information on these topics and is extremely knowledgeable of them. Dipper doesn't want to be seen as different from others, like Wendy and her friends, and tries to hide things like trick or treating from them. This is relatable to me because it is very similar to masking. Dipper tries to seem mature and cool to fit in with his friends, which reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger and would mask in order to be accepted by my friends (I'm currently trying to unlearn masking tendencies because my way of naturally existing is not an inconvenience and neither is the natural existence of anybody reading this). Dipper also stims, by chewing on his pens and shirt, and when something is important to him (like hacking the code on the computer) he very quickly becomes fixated on it, which is another thing I do all the time.

That's all for now; I'll post part 2 soon, either later today or tomorrow so keep an eye out. If you have any characters you've headcanoned as autistic, let me know in the replies. I'd love to see other characters people relate to. Also, if you could please check out the post I made in regards to my sister and the fundraising she's doing for a service dog and reblog it, that would be greatly appreciated.

#actually autistic #autistic character headcanon #autistic headcanon #autistic rep is important #leverage #parker #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #anya jenkins #gravity falls #mabel pines #dipper pines #mystery twins #part one of two

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serenadeonacanoe · 3 years

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Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

#namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #artist!namjoon

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demonologistfucker · 3 years

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WIP Angel MC! x Obey Me pt 2

Part Two - The Museum date with Satan. This is just a ruff of what I got so far. I am enjoying this but i Haven’t had a lot of focus for writing. So I just wanna share what I got so far.

Step into the shoes of an intellectual. I know they are uncomfortable, but these are cushioned with a bias outside human prejudice. They have their own prejudices of course, it’s just not As silly as a humans…. Either way, it’s a different way of looking at history. There is no need to keep colonial powers looking refined and noble.

This museum is not full of anything Real. They are all magical replicas of artifacts long burned, brutalized and forgotten. While it could be enlightening to a great deal of humanity. The plaques mainly speak of the demons who worked along with those doing the burning. It left a rather sick feeling in the angel’s stomach. While showing off the great wonder that was ruined. People still boasted about causing the burning.

Satan did a better job explaining the history. He was detached. Thinking about the matter as a history, and could talk about it easily. Yet when he turned to MC. They had tears in their eyes. Thinking of what it felt like to just be a people, and slaughtered for living. The Angel felt the reality. Both marveling at the people who could create such art and monuments, and the utter despair at how this art came to the Angel’s eyes. So Eventually the Angel started to tune out the world around them, and focused more on their guide. A stranger who was still linked arms with MC.

“I have a question,” MC looks up into Satan’s eyes.

“I might have an answer,” The corner of Satan’s mouth pulled into a sharp smile.

“Do you view angels and demons as enemies?” MC watches Satan’s face closely. His eyebrows shot up for only a second. A brief flash of surprise, and then quickly to thought. His gaze drifting upwards as he rolled the matter over in his mind.

“I think about this a lot, actually,” Satan rubs his chin. “I’m unsure. We are certainly told that we are opposites, but if we looked at the data, I think we’d find something else.” Satan chews on the thought, “There is a whole research of study on whether good even exists, yet there is a realm that claims to obtain All Good. Or define what it is. Which is just ridiculous, and as you can see.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. “Demons are not raging beasts. Sin has its place in reality. Too much of it would be disastrous, true, but not enough would also be a problem.” Satan kept his gaze away from the Angel. Not truly wanting to see them get upset about his stance.

“Can you give me an example?” MC tilts their head. “No one’s talked about sin like that before.”

“Well… Let’s use wrath. Wrath being deemed a sin which is reasonable at first. Being angry and destructive is not helpful. However, wrath has been brought out to protect children, or to fight for justice. Wrath without thought is bad, but it is not bad in itself.” Satan glances at MC to see their expression. Then stays when he sees that MC is thinking it over.

“What matters is how it’s used.” MC says softly. To which Satan nods. “There are plenty of supposedly holy people who are really cruel to keep their virtues.” Now both MC and Satan are sharing a smile. “Some of those people really are the worst. They manage to live up to His standards and yet are still-” MC grits their teeth.

“Bastards? Fuckers?” Satan tries to keep a helpful face, but can’t help the corner of his mouth twitch up.

“Yes!” MC shakes their head to let out some frustration. “Then they summon me to bring them to the bathhouse.”

“You have to bring humans to bathhouses?”

“Where ever they want to go. It is their ‘paradise’ after all, and since I’m not a high ranking angel, so I’m basically supposed to care take for whatever human souls are around me.”

“That sounds… Infuriating.” Satan says politely. He’s overjoyed to see the Angel seething with annoyance, but then something drowns it out. Their face falls and goes back to a placid expression.

“It’s the duty of an angel.” MC’s voice is dryer than before.

“Hmm…” Satan realizes he shouldn’t be staring at the Angel and looks back to whatever exhibit they had landed in front of. “Do you like your duties?”

“Do you like yours?” The Angel looks blankly ahead.

“Ours are very different. I simply Am the avatar. I can spend my days reading and be finishing my duty.”

“Really?” MC looks up in surprises.

“Well, sorta of,” Satan chuckles. “I have RAD duties I can’t get out of, But that’s my choice in the end. I respect Diavolo enough to agree to his leadership, and RAD is his domain, so I do it for him.” Satan shrugs. “They don’t take up too much time for an immortal anyways.”

“That’s… so different from Heaven. I get maybe five hours to myself a day?” MC can’t even give an accurate number. Keeping track just makes it worse. “It’s all preselected work, too. We have no choice it what domains we’re put under.”

“No choice at all?”

“Supposedly it’s from the Divine plan,” MC rolls their eyes. “But I’m unsure of it.”

“No plan is ever perfect, let alone one made from one mind alone.” Even as Satan says this, he is prepared for a fight. His few conversations with angel’s before him had always ended in one. Angels devoted their existences to this divine plan. Critiquing it was a critique of everything they stood for. Instead, MC just nods. Their eyes overwhelmed in sadness. So Satan takes a deep breath and refocuses on the world around them.

“It is amazing what humans are able to turn rocks into,” Satan looks at the old stone statue with amazement.

“I’ve tried to do it before, and I can never manage.” MC tapped their chin as they reminisced. “They can make rock smooth, as if they were just pinching clay.”

“I can’t even work clay well.” Satan chuckles. Then there is silence as MC’s mind wanders down a bunny trail.

“Earlier they said that I would be attending school, is that true?” Satan nods. “Weird,” MC begins to laugh.

“Why do you laugh? I will also be attending.” Satan says this even though he finds the whole school situation fairly fun himself. Still remembers the dinner when Lucifer broke the news that joining RAD also meant having to go through university again. They had completed their courses millennia ago. Satan was honestly a little excited. Brushing up his skills wouldn’t be the worst time. Though, all the other students sounded rather stressful.

“It will be curious. I didn’t expect to be introduced to Hell this way. It’s just… Okay, you’ll understand if I tell you how I imagine this, Exchange, would go in the Celestial realm.” Satan nods and leans back. Ready to listen. “Greeted with trumpets, obviously.” Satan rolls his eyes. “Then a personal conversation with It.” This makes Satan chuckle. “Then guided around the Celestial realm to all its numerous wonders. Shown the polished paradise where you can indulge in Nearly anything.” MC lifts a finger up with a crooked grin. “Though, you Can’t be a sinner, so you must be nice to Everyone you meet. No matter how annoying. If an Issue arises, you have to bring it up at court, and have it processed. It’s worse for angels, but guests wouldn’t see that. It would take months to see the court bit anyway. It would all be Sickly sweet.”

“And here you met a busy prince, told you had to go to school, and left to get eaten.” Satan keeps his head forward, but glances to see the angel’s reaction.

“I’m enjoying it a lot.” MC smiles.

“Not worried about your safety?”

“Not Much,” MC Shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll be totally helpless,” Then MC looks to Satan’s face. Which seems to loudly be saying ‘okay, tell yourself that sweetheart’. “Do you think I should worry?”

“I think it was wise that you asked for a guide,”

“Me to,” MC smiled, “I like your company.” MC pulls the hand they have clasped with Satan’s closer. For a moment, holding Satan against them. Letting their wing brush against his back. Then MC eases back. Failing to hide a blush that ran across their face. “ Just don’t imagine me helpless.”

“I could never.” Satan smiles softly. “I am the Avatar of wrath after all, and as I can tell.” He looks down at his open hand. Pretending to hold a board. “You have indulged in my sin at least six times.” A humorously low number for Satan. The average human indulged in it at least 50 times by their first birthday. That’s for a remarkably well tempered child, too.

“That high?” MC winces, but then straightens their spines. Remember Why that had indulged, and feeling proud of that choice.

“That is very low, and I think it would be good for your health to indulge in it a little more.”

“Is this how you became friends with Alexander?”

“It’s how I became much more than friends, Dear.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. Looking utterly too proud of himself. MC grimace only deepened as they felt their face heat up. They are saved by an alert on Satan’s D.D.D. “I am afraid I have dinner soon. Your human roommate will be at purgatory hall for dinner, though. I can walk you back if you like?” Satan looks rather annoyed at his phone, but his face relaxes as he looks at MC.

“That would be nice,” MC smiles and can feel the heat once again rise in their face and chest. “What on your D.D.D made you so upset?”

“Oh, you could see that?” Satan looks rather apologetic.

“Clear as day, man,” MC has to try and not laugh.

“The message came from Lucifer,” Again he says the name with such disgust. MC wants to giggle. “He was reminded I must come to dinner and meet the new human.”

“The face you just made,” MC has to put a hand over their mouth. Thankfully, they were almost out of the museum. But on the way on they got a couple glares from the Serious Observers. “What about this new human is so upsetting?”

“Oh it’s not them,” Satan grimaces, but then straightens his spine.

“Then what is it?”

“The process of picking was idiotic. It took four years for them to finally decided on what three humans to pick. The last one was completely random, it turns out.” Satan takes a deep breath. “I left the project after the first human was picked.”

“Who are they?”

“Solomon.” Satan says with a grimace. Left is a gentle way of putting what Satan did when Solomon was picked. The table was thrown through the wall and Satan marched out through the hole.

“Who?”

“You don’t know? Oh, right… Angel wouldn’t hear about him, I guess.” Satan chews on his lip for a second. “He is an ancient king who managed to get pacts with 72 demons, and accidentally became immortal.” Satan’s has a great number of suspicions about Solomon. There are barely any humans who have One pact with a demon. Yet this human managed to get 72, and immortality. While also maintaining a beloved relationship with a great number of people. To Satan, this reeked of evil in hiding. “He’s also a super powerful wizard and has gone through the university magic program so many times he rewrote a portion of it.”

“So that’s who they picked to show off the magical prowess, huh?”

“It doesn’t even work,” Satan groans. Satan had sat through hours of meetings debating which humans to brings, and how their presence would affect the experience for Other humans in the trip. They fisted wanted a human who had some understanding of the magical to be a grounding force for the other two. Satan had many suggestions of Other magicians who could do a job. Magicians who did have 72 pacts with demons. One of whom being his younger Sibling. “We should have picked a human who could actually use the program. He was a powerful magician before coming to our school. He used it to have fun and meet people.“

“So he’s open to fun?” MC bounces slightly as they walk.

“He can be… but he’s often looking out for himself first.” Since Satan so clearly distrusts Solomon. MC chooses to ignore this, and instead is excited to meet this weird wizard.

“Ah, prioritizing ones own needs. The gift of the ego… that we all have.” MC smirks. Feeling that MC was poking fun at Satan. He bristled and turned a lovely read.

“It’s not just ego,” Satan huffs. “How could he make so many pacts without being devious?”

“I don’t know,” MC shrugs. “Have you asked him?”

“No,” Satan looks aghast. “He’s a cunning being, I can’t just ask him.”

“I’ve heard cunning humans can be the most fun,” MC is now starting to walk back to campus with a little more speed.

“Who would say that?” Satan looks bewildered at the little angel.

“Simeon,” MC says, unbothered by Satan’s judgement.

“He enjoys Lucifer’s company, I would not blindly trust Simeon’s taste.” Satan’s lip curls upward when he mentions Lucifer. MC thought on the matter. Simeon had given Lucifer a hug. When it was rather clear that Lucifer was Not a hugger.

“Do you know if Simeon and Lucifer know each other? I’ve never heard Simeon talk about him, but it’s also frowned upon to talk about him in general.”

“I wouldn’t know, but Lucifer did spend the most time in heaven out of all of us,”

“Ah, who’s Us?”

“Oh my brothers,” Satan sighs, “They might know if Simeon and Lucifer have a history, but I won’t be asking for you.”

“That’s fair,” MC nods.

“Do they not talk about the revolution in the celestial realm?”

“Only brief mention. He doesn’t like it being brought up so… most just avoid the topic. I really don’t know much about it.”

“Hmm,” Satan frowns. He didn’t want to strike Lucifer’s ego, but what he did is important history. “I might have some history books you could borrow if you’d like.” It was strange being confronted with the Angel’s reality. Satan couldn’t imagine a life without living in the shadow of that revolution. His exists was born from its grief and agony, and this Angel knew of it only in passing. Did that mean they didn’t know his history at all?

“Oh, that would be nice, but” The Angel blushes and closes their eyes.” I’m not the best of readers. My eyes get distracted?”

“I have heard of conditions similar to that,” Satan nods, “Well the topic is a heavy one, but if you wanted I could explain our side of the history some time.” They were now walking down the path to Purgatory hall. Satan felt is stomach dip at the thought of leaving. Next would be a dinner of more polite conversation. With the chance, he’d be living with two new assholes now. “If you wanted I could put my contact in your D.D.D. That way we can schedule, and If you need a guide again-” His words faltered as the blush becomes too hot.

“I would like that very much.” MC Smiles and hands over their D.D.D.

“Oh-” Satan just finished it with a smile, and then takes the D.D.D. With thin fingers he types it all in. “I do have a schedule, so I can’t be your guide always but,” Satan looks into the Angel’s eyes, and feels his heart get stuck in his throat. “Don’t be afraid to ask.”

“I definitely won’t,” MC says, even though their heart was starting to race. MC stumbled as they hit the first steps up into Purgatory hall. “Thank you for taking me around.” MC’s wings flutter slightly, trying to dispel anxiety. “It was really nice getting to know you.”

“It was truly a pleasure,” Satan smiles, and then bows low to the Angel. As he rises, he keeps his eyes steady with MC’s gaze. There is a heartbeat where they are both caught staring at each other. Satan should be going home now, and the Angel should be heading inside. Instead, they both linger. Feeling their hearts surging in their chests, and wondering what they can possibly do about it. “I hope you enjoy your dinner,” Satan regrets the words instantly, but his feet are already moving to walk away.

“You to!” The Angel blurts, feeling horribly awkward, but also thrilled. The nerves of wanting to make a good impression. As they watched the elegant blond walk away. MC could still feel excitement brewing within them.

The feeling lingered as MC walked into the main doors of Purgatory Hall. Already they could feel that something was different within the building. A new presence shifted the home's energy. The air now had the smell of a laboratory. MC wandered down the hall till they reached the kitchen. Which is where they found Simeon, Luke, and a stranger gathered around the Oven. The Stranger was tall with bright white hair. The light in his eyes was unmistakably human, but something was off.

“Are you certain it’s supposed to look like that?” Simeon squinted at the Oven.

“I have never done this before,” The Strange says easily, but both Simeon and Luke look utterly terrified.

“What’s going on?” MC asks as they walk behind Luke to get a view of what’s going on. “Why is it...cracked?”

“I believe that’s a part of the baking process,” The stranger smiles warmly and then extend a hand to MC. “My name’s Solomon, I am the human exchange student who will be living with you three.”

“I’m MC,” They take Solomon’s hand. His hand is surprisingly dense and cold. Heavier than the Angel had expected. “I thought there were three humans?”

“Indeed, but the other humans get to live with the brothers.” Solomon sighs. “I still don’t understand why they get to be close to the princes of Hell and not me.” Solomon actually did have a guess why, but he wanted to pout about it.

“Do you want to hear Lucifer and Mammon fighting with each other all the time?” Simeon chuckles.

“That’s a fair point,” Solomon nods. “Not to seem like I’m complaining about being with you three,” MC hadn’t even considered that Solomon might not be happy to be staying with three angels. Now though they had to think about it. A man with 72 pacts with demons might not have the most favorable opinion of angels. MC couldn’t exactly blame him for this, but hoped it wouldn’t get in their way.

“I think our company is much better than those demons,” Luke tilts up his chin given everyone a good look of his nostrils.

“Not better,” Simeon tuts, “we our own kind of fun, and will still have plenty of time with the brothers if we choose.”

“You like them?” Solomon eyes Simeon.

“Yes,” Simeon smiles genuinely. “I am really happy to see them again.” Solomon nods, and then smiles himself.

“Me too,”

#wip #angel!mc #obey me #obey me satan #my writing

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