#not much of an essay writer i just keep thinking about them and i need to force other people to think about them too

[astranauticus]

stultifera navis rerun AKA thinking about Iberia hours again because a lot of the Iberians have such fascinating relationships with the concept of home but specifically Thorns and Lumen are eating at my brain. like where do you call home when the place that is your home Just Fucking Hates You? Elysium's rewinding breeze specifically makes a point to hammers home how differently Iberia treats its Liberi and its Aegir

(which is especially interesting since this comes right after a conversation where Purestream commented on how despite Leizi being a high ranking government official, there are still some experiences that are universal for all Yanese people - because the experience of what Iberia itself is like isnt universal for all Iberians)

But all that being said, Thorns also straight up states that Aegir is not his home, and yeah, how could it be? How could a place you've never been to, never truly known, ever be your home? How could it ever feel like a home?

so where do you go when the place that you are from hates your people and the place your people are from is completely unfamiliar and alien to you? Thorns' answer at the end of the conversation with Aya is: my home is where i chose it to be. my home is where there are people I care about and people who care about me

in the complete opposite direction, Lumen's oprec asks: why do you still stay in a place that wants you gone? because the people of Gran Faro like Jordi well enough but when push comes to shove, they will want the only Aegir in town gone

and yet, when Rald the messenger offers him a chance to leave Jordi turns him down and when he's forced to escape Gran Faro after the people there literally try to send him to his death (or worse) at the hands of the Inquisitors he keeps trying to go back because like everyone in stultifera navis, Jordi is clinging to his own dreams of a golden age

but the shape of that dream is unique to every character and for Jordi, his dreams are deeply, inseparably bound to the Eye of Iberia, the legacy his parents left behind

and it's this dream of becoming someone great, of bringing about that golden age that his parents devoted their lives to help create that ties Jordi to this nothing town because despite everything, despite the mistrust of the townsfolk and the hostility of the Inquisition and the danger from the ocean, he simply cannot leave it behind

(or, because i personally dislike the official translation,)

"I just see this place as my home"

so yeah. not sure what overall point i was trying to make here i'm just. deeply in love with these stories about chosing what is and isn't your home, of saying you will not call a place your home because it has given you no reason to or saying you consider a place your home even though it has given you every reason not to. deeply unwell about them <3

#arknights #asto speaks #not much of an essay writer i just keep thinking about them and i need to force other people to think about them too #thorns story fucks me up bc like. this whole almost found family adjacent idea of like #maybe home isnt something decided by your birth but something you can chose based on what truly matters to you #it just gets to me. i guess. #jordi gets to me in a completely different direction there's nothing personal about it i just find his story *fascinating* #just a guy. a completely normal guy. an absolute nobody caught up in these dreams of greatness while also fully aware of his own normalcy #but never letting either of those overshadow the other. never losing that self awareness or that fuckin obsessive determination #god. what a Character #i love jordi so much like genuinely #i joke a lot about him being just a Guy but thats also kinda like the best thing about him #the fact that he is the way that he is and does all the things he does despite being just a Guy #gently holds #for context i was so hyped about new iberia lore when sn was announced i read the whole thing as soon as it dropped on cn server #cuz someone uploaded all the story sections to bilibili right after it came out #and '我只是把这里当作自己的故乡啊' fucking hit me SO HARD #in like the greater context of elysium demanding to know why hes risking his life in like 5 different ways to return to gran faro #because yeah jordi just doesnt want to leave his home but like we the audience knows the full *weight* of what that home means to him #and the weight of the dreams that made him chose to see Gran Faro as his home and to refuse to let go of that #thats why i like the original a lot more than the translation i think like it really emphasises that active *choice*. #this is the place jordi has *decided* to see as his home and he knows what that means and what it means to him #side note the part on thorns might not actually age well depending on whether hg decides to ever release more aulus lore #i mean i'll gladly take the L if it means more aulus and/or thorns lore like #i just wanna know what (if anything) is tying him to iberia yknow #ak #iberiaposting

[andvenuscried]

modern!anakin skywalker as your professor + age gap

lowkey daddy professor!anakin x bimbo!reader

description box; anakin is your professor and your boyfriend. that blurs the lines between his job and you being his student sometimes — but he can’t ever deny his sweet girl a request, and this time you want him to give his honest opinion on the essay you’ve written for an assignment he gave his students, including you.

warnings; nsfw warning, blow job, MINOR BLOGS DNI!!, age gap, smut under the cut!

HE’S TAKING TOO LONG to read it. he’s rereading the same lines, again and again, and he’s frowning.

“you don’t like it.”

you hate the way your quivers, like you’re weak and… and dependant. oh, but you are. you depend on his every word and action like he’s your lifeline.

“no — no, sweetheart, i do, it’s just…” and then, anakin sighs and sets aside his glasses, looking into your eyes directly with his startlingly piercing, frost-coloured eyes.

he’s struggling to find words that won’t bruise your ego too badly. anakin never lies to you, but he can’t find it in him to give you a brutally honest review.

anakin sits on the couch as you pace nervously in front of him, the table in front of him filled with documents, his laptop and… that damned essay.

“it’s just what?” you inquire, and your voice is already breaking, “you hate my essay! i can hear it!”

and then, all the dams break; you’re turning away from him and all the tears start flooding and the overthinking starts to claw its way into your soul.

“you’re… you’re gonna give me an F! you’re going to fail me, i’m going to fail this class — you, you hate my essay…” you’re falling into complete despair.

anakin winces, this is exactly the reaction he had wanted to prevent.

“oh, c’mere, sweet girl, i don’t hate your essay. it’s just a little, er… childish wording, but that’s nothing to worry about — ‘m not gonna fail you, all right?”

you sniffle, and for a moment, your tears stop. “y-you’re not?”

anakin winces again — he may be your boyfriend and he may love you, but he’s also your professor and has to keep a certain neutrality towards the work you offer to him as his student. but he can’t deny it, being so close to you, it’s been blurring the lines of professionalism. you’re such a sweet, little thing — so pretty and so young, so soft and so kind-hearted. he couldn’t ever say no to any of your requests.

and maybe you’ve learned to use that against him somehow. he’s given you way too many A’s and B’s that you did not deserve because as much as he loves you as a person, you are a bad writer. you’re not hopeless; there is definitely a good basic idea and core in every one of your essays, just the execution… somehow fails to be amazing every time. and he’s not exaggerating.

“yeah… yeah, i’ll give you a C, m’kay, kid? it’s not a bad essay, pretty, it just needs a little polishing.” he comforts you, caging your, in comparison to him, small frame in his warm, trained arms.

but this time, you frown. “a C? you… you’ve never given me a C before.”

it’s always been A’s and B’s.

anakin struggles to find the right words again, “well, this time your performance was a tiny bit… lacking… but just a little, darling, no need to cry — aw, sweetheart, don’t cry…”

“l-l-lacking? i’m… lacking?” you wail as you push away his arms and pace to the kitchen, this time sobbing violently.

when he reaches you, your eyes are all puffy and red, and he panics.

“no, you’re not lacking!” he protests, think, anakin, think, “i’ll… i’ll give you an A, m’kay? so stop crying, please, you’re too pretty to be crying like that over a grade.”

your sobbing stops slowly, and a relieved smile makes its way onto your lips. “r-really? thank you so much, ani! love you so much!”

you squeal and jump into his arms, and it’s like the rainbows have started showing after the storm. anakin laughs at your excitement but mentally slaps himself — he’d sworn himself he wouldn’t give you good grades without you earning them anymore, but it appears he really just can’t say no to his little darling.

“i’ll make it up to you, i promise!” you swear to him, covering his handsome face with kisses, and he grins cheekily.

“oh really? how’re you gonna do that, little lady?” he chuckles good-naturedly.

and you think, you think real hard. and you jump down, out of his embrace, and you thank him in the only way you know.

you lead him to the couch and settle between his legs, and you unbuckle his belt.

“oh, like that? i didn’t mean that—” anakin stops whatever he was going to say when you take him whole. whole.

a choked, throaty moan escapes his lips and almost automatically, his big hands reach for your hand; his hand almost covers the whole back of your head, and his fingers are getting tangled in your soft hair, and he bucks up into your soft lips.

“fuck,” he groans and he closes his eyes, and he looks so breathtaking, so handsome, like a greek god, “god, what did i do to deserve you… such a beautiful, obedient girl… must’ve saved a country in my past life to deserve you.”

he feels your lips curling up at his praise and he looks down, and it’s a sight to behold. big, innocent doe eyes looking up at him like he’s a god you’re worshipping, nothing but pure admiration and love shining in those eyes.

“my god, you’re so adorable,” he praises you, eyes closed and brows furrowed so prettily, moaning when you begin to deepthroat him, your pretty head going up and down, up and down, “so, so, so pretty…”

and then, his chiselled abs tenses, his thighs quiver slightly, and you know he’s close.

“c’mon,” he whispers, “swallow.”

and you obey, like his good little girl.

if he’s getting thanked this dedicatedly by a student, surely he can make exceptions from time to time.

he doesn’t get paid enough anyway.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #obsessive anakin #star wars #star wars anakin

[fursasaida]

Hi! Just wanted to ask. How can I give my students assignments that are chat-gpt proof? Or that they won't just copy the answer without at least doing some editing?

Hi! So, I don't think anything is ChatGPT-proof. You fundamentally cannot stop people from using it to take a shortcut. You can't even stop them from copying the answer without editing it. However, I think you can work with this reality. So, you can do three things:

Don't be a cop about it.

If you make your objective "stop the children from using the thing to cheat," you are focusing on the wrong thing. You will be constantly scrutinizing every submission with suspicion, you will be accusing people of cheating--and some of them will not have cheated, and they will remember this forever--and you will be aiming at enforcement (which is trying to hold back the sea) instead of on inviting and supporting learning whenever and wherever possible. (I'll come back to this under item 2.)

Regarding why enforcement is holding back the sea: It is fundamentally rational for them to do this. We, who "love learning" (i.e. are good at what our academic system sees as learning, for various reasons have built our lives around that, happen to enjoy these activities), see everything they might cheat themselves of by doing it, because we know what we got out of doing this type of work. Many students, however--especially at the kind of school I teach at--are there to get the piece of paper that might, if they're lucky, allow them access to a relatively livable and stable income. The things that are wrong with this fact are structural and nothing to do with students' failings as people, or (tfuh) laziness, or whatever. We cannot make this not true (we can certainly try to push against it in certain ways, but that only goes so far). More pragmatically, chatgpt and similar are going to keep getting better, and detecting them is going to get harder, and your relationships with your students will be further and further damaged as you are forced to hound them more, suspect them more, falsely accuse more people, while also looking like an idiot because plenty of them will get away with it. A productive classroom requires trust. The trust goes both ways. Being a cop about this will destroy it in both directions.

So the first thing you have to do is really, truly accept that some of them are going to use it and you are not always going to know when they do. And when I say accept this, I mean you actually need to be ok with it. I find it helps to remember that the fact that a bot can produce writing to a standard that makes teachers worry means we have been teaching people to be shitty writers. I don't know that so much is lost if we devalue the 5-paragraph SAT essay and its brethren.

So the reason my policy is to say it's ok to use chatgpt or similar as long as you tell me so and give me some thinking about what you got from using it is that a) I am dropping the charade that we don't all know what's going on and thereby making it (pedagogical term) chill; b) I am modeling/suggesting that if you use it, it's a good idea to be critical about what it tells you (which I desperately want everyone to know in general, not just my students in a classroom); c) I am providing an invitation to learn from using chatgpt, rather than avoid learning by using it. Plenty of them won't take me up on that. That's fine (see item 3 below).

So ok, we have at least established the goal of coming at it from acceptance. Then what do you do at that point?

Think about what is unique to your class and your students and build assignments around that.

Assignments, of course, don't have to be simply "what did Author mean by Term" or "list the significant thingies." A prof I used to TA under gave students the option of interviewing a family member or friend about their experiences with public housing in the week we taught public housing. Someone I know who teaches a college biology class has an illustration-based assignment to draw in the artsier students who are in her class against their will. I used to have an extra-credit question that asked them to pick anything in the city that they thought might be some kind of clue about the past in that place, do some research about it, and tell me what they found out and how. (And that's how I learned how Canal St. got its name! Learning something you didn't know from a student's work is one of the greatest feelings there is.) One prompt I intend to use in this class will be something to the effect of, "Do you own anything--a t-shirt, a mug, a phone case--that has the outline of your city, state, or country on it? Why? How did you get it, and what does having this item with this symbol on it mean to you? Whether you personally have one or not, why do you think so many people own items like this?" (This is for political geography week, if anyone's wondering.)

These are all things that target students' personal interests and capabilities, the environments they live in, and their relationships within their communities. Chatgpt can fake that stuff, but not very well. My advisor intends to use prompts that refer directly to things he said in class or conversations that were had in class, rather than to a given reading, in hopes that that will also make it harder for chatgpt to fake well because it won't have the context. The more your class is designed around the specific institution you teach at and student body you serve, the easier that is to do. (Obviously, how possible that is is going to vary based on what you're teaching. When I taught Urban Studies using the city we all lived in as the example all through the semester, it was so easy to make everything very tailored to the students I had in that class that semester. That's not the same--or it doesn't work the same way--if you're teaching Shakespeare. But I know someone who performs monologues from the plays in class and has his students direct him and give him notes as a way of drawing them into the speech and its niceties of meaning. Chatgpt is never going to know what stage directions were given in that room. There are possibilities.) This is all, I guess, a long way of saying that you'll have a better time constructing assignments chatgpt will be bad at if you view your class as a particular situation, occurring only once (these people, this year), which is a situation that has the purpose of encouraging thought--rather than as an information-transfer mechanism. Of course information transfer happens, but that is not what I and my students are doing together here.

Now, they absolutely can plug this type of prompt into chatgpt. I've tried it myself. I asked it to give me a personal essay about the political geography prompt and a critical personal essay about the same thing. (I recommend doing this with your own prospective assignments! See what they'd get and whether it's something you'd grade highly. If it is, then change either the goal of the assignment or at least the prompt.) Both of them were decent if you are grading the miserable 5-paragraph essay. Both of them were garbage if you are looking for evidence of a person turning their attention for the first time to something they have taken for granted all their lives. Chatgpt has neither personality nor experiences, so it makes incredibly vague, general statements in the first person that are dull as dishwater and simply do not engage with what the prompt is really asking for. I already graded on "tell me what you think of this/how this relates to your life" in addition to "did you understand the reading," because what I care about is whether they're thinking. So students absolutely can and will plug that prompt into chatgpt and simply c/p the output. They just won't get high marks for it.

If they're fine with not getting high marks, then okay. For a lot of them this is an elective they're taking essentially at random to get that piece of paper; I'm not gonna knock the hustle, and (see item 1) I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. What I can do is try to make class time engaging, build relationships with them that make them feel good about telling me their thoughts, and present them with a variety of assignments that create opportunities for different strengths, points of interest, and ways into the material, in hopes of hooking as many different people in as many different ways as I can.

This brings me back to what I said about inviting learning. Because I have never yet in my life taught a course that was for people majoring in the subject, I long ago accepted that I cannot get everyone to engage with every concept, subject, or idea (or even most of them). All I can do is invite them to get interested in the thing at hand in every class, in every assignment, in every choice of reading, in every question I ask them. How frequently each person accepts these invitations (and which ones) is going to vary hugely. But I also accept that people often need to be invited more than once, and even if they don't want to go through the door I'm holding open for them right now, the fact that they were invited this time might make it more likely for them to go through it the next time it comes up, or the time after that. I'll never know what will come of all of these invitations, and that's great, actually. I don't want to make them care about everything I care about, or know everything I know. All I want is to offer them new ways to be curious.

Therefore: if they use chatgpt to refuse an invitation this week, fine. That would probably have happened anyway in a lot of cases even without chatgpt. But, just as before, I can snag some of those people's attention on one part of this module in class tomorrow. Some of them I'll get next time with a different type of assignment. Some of them I'll hook for a moment with a joke. I don't take the times that doesn't happen as failures. But the times that it does are all wins that are not diminished by the times it doesn't.

Actually try to think of ways to use chatgpt to promote learning.

I DREAM of the day I'm teaching something where it makes sense to have students edit an AI-written text. Editing is an incredible way to get better at writing. I could generate one in class and we could do it all together. I could give them a prompt, ask them to feed it into chatgpt, and ask them to turn in both what they got and some notes on how they think it could be better. I could give them a pretty traditional "In Text, Author says Thing. What did Author mean by that?" prompt, have them get an answer from chatgpt, and then ask them to fact-check it. Etc. All of these get them thinking about written communication and, incidentally, demonstrate the tool's limitations.

I'm sure there are and will be tons of much more creative ideas for how to incorporate chatgpt rather than fight it. (Once upon a time, the idea of letting students use calculators in math class was also scandalous to many teachers.) I have some geography-specific ideas for how to use image generation as well. When it comes specifically to teaching, I think it's a waste of time for us to be handwringing instead of applying ourselves to this question. I am well aware of the political and ethical problems with chatgpt, and that's something to discuss with, probably, more advanced students in a seminar setting. But we won't (per item 1) get very far simply insisting that Thing Bad and Thing Stupid. So how do we use it to invite learning? That's the question I'm interested in.

Finally, because tangential to your question: I think there's nothing wrong with bringing back more in-class writing and even oral exams (along with take-home assignments that appeal to strengths and interests other than expository writing as mentioned above). These assessments play to different strengths than written take-homes. For some students, that means they'll be harder or scarier; by the same token, for other students they'll be easier and more confidence-building. (Plus, "being able to think on your feet" is also a very good ~real-world skill~ to teach.) In the spirit of trying to offer as many ways in as possible, I think that kind of diversification in assignments is a perfectly good idea.

#teaching #chatgpt #posting this on my first teaching day of the semester! #this is probably a lot longer than what you asked for but it is the answer i know how to give. hope something in it helps!

[aho-dapa]

Side note, because I'm watching a video essay that's pretty much saying everything I've been thinking about about,

With sjm's writing, what separates it from a typical romantasy not to take seriously is that post ACOTAR, the author suddenly says to take it seriously.

Feyre's Calanmai Hall scene isn't about Feyre not wanting Tamlin's advances, but that she does, she's just doing the typical romantasy protag thing of rejecting what you really desire. Think about how this contrasts with Rhysand's scenes utm, she doesn't want them and its not given enough detail, but this changes after Feyre and Rhysand get together. For example, the CoN scene. The fucking mid air thing. The telepathy sexting that can happen at anytime without true consequence. Very exhibition. Much voyeur.

This is literally sjm's fantasies played out through Feyre and Rhysand, and even through Feyre and Tamlin.

Despite how much I like Tamlin, he only really became a truly nuanced character in hindsight for me because of sjm's unintentional manipulations of her own narrative. In ACOTAR, he's also built around Feyre the same way most characters are in the first book.

He is built to fit into Feyre, he's meant to parallel her acceptance of her own desires, her own beast through him, because submitting to him is submitting to herself. That's why Feyre's themes get mixed up post ACOTAR, she loses that beast like quality to become a star to suit Rhysand. And sjm brings that back in ACOWAR with the Mirror (although it doesn't hit like it once would have because instead to fitting Rhysand to Feyre, sjm wrote Feyre to fit Rhysand).

The thing that's frustrating is that sjm is the one that is saying these are just not her fantasies on page, she's the one that brought mental health into it, brought up abuse and neglect, and handled it all so poorly.

It's this thing where sjm still wants to have the upturned-nose high ground in her books, she wants to be right, she doesn't want Feyre to be questioned or truly be in the wrong because Feyre is her fantasy. sjm likely writes Tamlin to not like human slavery, not want to be like his father, and with a self sacrificing personality while keeping his beast like qualities for the steamy parts. Because he's written to have that middle ground most people looking for that fantasy can still enjoy while not being too disturbing for our modern sensibilities.

That's why some people not looking for this find Tamlin and Rhysand's actions strange and gross, but people who already indulge in those fantasies were okay with it. And there's even people who think that ACOTAR is too vanilla (me). Anyway.

Basically, ACOTAR is not meant to be taken seriously, its literally another romance book with a fancy (?) cover. Post ACOTAR is not tho, so sjm makes a big deal about taking it seriously because she wants that middle ground with Rhysand when honestly, Rhysand could have been a dark romance ML and no one would have batted an eye. But that wouldn't work for the precedent sjm established with the middle ground, she needs that 'he's feral and sexy and toes the consent line but it's fine because xyz' in her books, and that's why the fandom is so divided. We can't decide whether or not to take it seriously or not because sjm switched up.

Her fault as a writer is that she didn't do this well at all.

I mean, this is also coming from the same woman that briefly had another one of her characters entertain their sovereign right to colonization in goodwill, so. This woman should never have been taken seriously. Unfortunately, she insists upon herself. So in order to actually discuss these books, we have to take her silliness seriously.

(Which is why I stopped because it's an endless cycle of saying sjm wrote something silly and because she's saying it's serious, now we gotta be serious about bat birthing or whatever)

Never forget how I saw a bat get birthed just to actualize how stupid the *gets shot*

#sorry but like #i don't like sjm at all so #anti sjm #feyre archeron #tamlin #rhysand #acotar #feylin #feysand #oh #pro tamlin #i guess #i will never let go of aelin colonizer when sjm used nehemia as a tool to combat that exact same narrative #its fucked and thats how you know nehemia was just a narrative tool to sjm and aelin to some degree

[rthko]

Hi :) I read The Tragedy of Heterosexuality and loved it — do you have any other books you’d recommend about gender/sexuality? Thanks <3 I love reading your long posts, you have really insightful ideas and I think we view the world very similarly

Glad to hear that! Here's some context for anyone not in the loop: The Tragedy of Heterosexuality is a book about Heteropessimism, or rather, finding a way out of it. The notion is that heterosexual love is doomed because men and women are just different by nature, and it manifests through relationship self-help books, incels and pickup artists, and the memes and ramblings of countless straight women who they wish they could just be lesbians. Jane Ward think heterosexuality as we know it self sabotages through what she calls the misogyny paradox: straight men love women, except they don't love women. But she doesn't think heterosexuality is doomed or prop up political lesbianism as a solution. She calls for mutual respect and actually leaning into the heterosexuality of, well, actually liking each other, rather than try to "queer" it. This is part of a really interesting turn in queer theory where heterosexuality has emerged as a subject of study--another good example is Hanne Blank's Straight: The Surprisingly Short History of Heterosexuality.

So I want to start out by disclaiming I'm not actually that well read. This is something I've been trying to work on more recently. That said, here are some gender and sexuality recs:

Two essays by Gayle Rubin: The Traffic in Women and Thinking Sex. I don't completely cosign everything she says, but these are monumental texts. Thinking Sex is topical especially as the "sex wars" keep playing out.

Gender Trouble by Judith Butler. Everyone's heard of this, so my specific recommendation is to skip to part three and the conclusion, where the text is at its most concise. Butler's theory of gender performativity has exploded beyond their initial reach, so they've since had a lot of interviews and given talks that address a wider audience. People who have read both Gender Trouble and Bodies that Matter tend to recommend the latter text, but I still need to.

The Trouble with Normal by Michael Warner, or if you want a shorter version, his essay "Normaler and Normaler." Even if you're not against marriage in its entirety, his criticisms are so incisive and helpful, especially now in countries where gay marriage was passed but proved to be a dead end. It also really gets into gayness as identity versus behavior, which seems to have exploded into a huge conflict recently. This is how you get people who are on board with queerness in the abstract but appalled by its real-life specifics. I also still need to read Fear of a Queer Planet.

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde, is a collection of speeches and essays by one of the most influential Black feminist writers. "Uses of the Erotic" especially stuck with me, where the erotic is taken not so literally but as a sort of creative synergy with political implications. If you've ever heard "the master's tools will not dismantle the masters house," that's included in this collection.

Close to the Knives by David Wojnarowicz, also a collection of speeches and essays, is one of my favorite books on AIDS. The rage is palpable and crucial, and the essay "Do Not Doubt the Dangerousness of the 12-inch Politician" is eerily resonant today as politicians still stoke violence on TV (and now social media).

Lately I've been getting more into trans writing, with Transgender History by Susan Stryker and Whipping Girl by Julia Serano. The former alarmed me with how much I didn't know, and the latter blew my mind. It was written at a time when trans people, for better and for worse, weren't really in the public eye except for in niche circles, and academia about trans people was about or at the expense of them but not by and for them. Her mark is so tangible today. My next read will be Reverse Cowgirl by McKenzie Wark after hearing rave reviews. I think I'm going to like it.

I am also accepting recs!

[myidlehand]

I've once again seen a post on my dash about how Joey had to "fight" for Jaskier being queer this season.

I didn't reblog it cause I don't want to target one post in particular but people who make those posts need to understand this is factually wrong and just keep the hate towards Lauren growing for no reason.

It was Lauren who approached him. Joey said so himself. He praised her in many interviews for going that road. He worked with her on making sure it was done right, his words again (he seems quite aware of LGBTQA+ culture and maybe his sensibilities are a bit more "up to date" than the average straight person. If Lauren and most of the writers are straight, it seems logical for them to struggle to make it not cliché and for Joey to help make it something the community would like more, but that is just my theory).

But he never said he had to fight for it as much as people say he did, on the contrary. He said in at least one interview that it was very collaborative. From what I understand in some of his interviews he possibly wanted more control over Jaskier's journey this season but he certainly didn't have to fight for it. People seem to have gotten that idea from Joey's "essay" but at no point did he say it was to fix what they did. He obviously had an idea of what he wanted to do and asked for re writes and cuts in the dialogue to add more music. Every interview where he mentions this he pretty much says he was helping and collaborating with the writers. This sounds pretty normal to me as every actor on this show (Henry in particular) seems to be allowed to participate with the writing of their own character.

I know most of the fandom loves to believe all the good parts come from the actors and all the bad ideas come from Lauren (she obviously hasn't always made good choices and I'm not excusing her for the mess season 2 was) but this is just deforming what Joey actually said and taking some of the credit away from other people.

I love that Jaskier is pan. It's one of my favourite parts of the season. But it was not just Joey's idea it was Lauren's as well. Credit where credit's due. She's not as bad as the fandom makes her to be and she's a big reason why season 3 is so good. I don't love the way she try to sell the show as something never seen before because it still is mostly adapted from the books but nobody can argue when it comes to Jaskier that she made him a lot better than Dandelion (who I love to death but he's a little shit and I think Jaskier is a much more interesting character).

#jaskier #joey batey #lauren schmidt hissrich #the witcher

[haveawish]

Miller's Girl Review/Recap

Spoilers for the full movie!!!

No seriously...I spoil the full movie, so if you've not seen it, turn back!!

Cairo is 18 years old bibliophile and inspiring author, who is extremely intelligent, lonely and bored of her life in Tennessee, Cairo's rich lawyer parents completely abandon her, leaving her to dwell in their mansion like a ghost left behind. Cairo seems convinced they don't care about her. That dynamic isn't explored any further sadly.

 Cairo is striving to escape to Yale but struggling with her entry essay. To write about her greatest accomplishment. Cairo realizes she has none, as she’s been insulated in the bubble of her privilege or as best friend Winnie calls her “just another run-of-the-mill generationally wealthy gal living in a haunted ancestral mansion,” 

 The college essay is actually the catalyst for the movie. Cairo needing inspiration and along comes failed writer Jonathan Miller. 

Miller is stuck in his mundane life as a literature teacher, his writing career amounting in a poorly received book and a wife who is more focused on her own career and any available alcohol than placating her husband.It’s unsurprising that Jonathan becomes drawn to Cairo — though his wife exudes sexuality, a good portion of the movie she's in her lingerie, it seems to be no match for Cairos charms.

Cairo is like a breath of fresh air to Jonathan, a young attractive girl who intellectually seems to be on the same wavelength as him and appreciates his opinion and wisdom. He thinks he finds in her a willing protégé into whom he can pour his own unrealized ambitions as a novelist.

Jonathan lets himself be seduced by Cairo’s Intelligence in literacy and flattery. Her being complimentary of  his own book strokes his ego, not to mention her receptiveness to his attention.

Somewhere along the line Miller forgets himself and his boundaries as an educator, treating Cairo not as a student under his care but as a peer and fellow writer.

The movie throws in moments of  mutual attraction and showcases Miller's descent into crossing the line of appropriately, keeping on pushing his own choice of college on her even after she said she was dead set on yale, sharing a cigarette multiple times, inviting the girl to an event after school filled with Miller's friends, looking like a first date as they squeeze next to one another during the reading.

With midterms looming, Jonathan gives Cairo a special assignment: write an essay in the style of an author she admires. An assignment that will soon prove fatal to his career and possibly his freedom.

A mix-up in the classroom lands Cairo’s cell phone in his possession and he breaks another unspoken boundary, he drives to his student house who he is aware lives alone to return it to her.  

What follows is completely up to interpretation of the audience whether or not the two of them confront their mutual attraction. Whether the pair actually shared a forbidden kiss or if they even went further is up for debate. Something may have actually  happened between them at her house. I wouldn’t be surprised if his ‘fantasy’ is actually him recalling their night together when he reads her story.

Cairo delivers her midterm essay inspired by Henry Miller, sent with the note ‘love, Cairo’.

Feeling underappreciated by his wife as usual Jonathan lurks to his man cave where he proceeds to read and masterbate to Cairo’s essay, whether Jonathan is recalling the night or imagining this would've happened between the two is never stated.

The story  in which she thinly disguises Jonathan and herself as her subject and proceeds to write a smutty story almost fanfiction-like of a liaison between the two protagonists. 

 This finally shakes out  Jonathan of his lust filled head to put a stop to things, but unfortunately  for him he's  already gone too far. He's toyed with Cairos growing feelings  much less (potentially) with her body. As the two of them try to navigate the repercussions of their inappropriate intimacy. 

Jonathan tells Cairo to scrap the essay and write a new one; the complete turn around shocks Cairo.  

One day he was this cool teacher who's her friend and potentially her lover, he gives her attention and flirts with her and then next day he threatens her of failing the class. threatening to fail Cairo over the story is the worst thing he could have done in Cairos mind. If he had done it, she would've not been able to go to the college of her choice, Something extremely important to her, which he's well aware of, maybe restricting her to go to any college  at all. Leaving her stranded in Tennessee would have been her worst nightmare.

What follows is the complete ruin of any type of relationship the pair had, Cairo is angry and vengeful. Jonathan's betrayal blindsighted her and as the intelligent girl she is feels that blow to her pride and her feelings. Cairo let's rip at Miller, all his insecurities laid bare, Miller eventually calls Cairo a child and she calls him a coward. 

Him acknowledging her as a child is sickening now that the viewer has seen his actions throughout the movie. To him she's a femme fatale, a fantasy when he wants her to be but when things get real and serious, she's just a naive child and he knows better.

Cairo for all her scheming is still a teenage girl who for the first time has her heartbroken, and that heartbreak turns to cold rage and to get her revenge not even her best friend Winnie is safe from her plans.

Winnie is an interesting character throughout the movie that doesn't get the screen time and depth she deserves.

Winnie is a known lesbian according to Cairo, though Winnie playfully disagrees, claiming to like both as she tells Cairo of her flirtations with high school coach and Jonathan's friend Boris. Although Winnie claims to be interested in Boris, it is obvious to both the viewer and Cairo that Winnie has unrequited love or lust for Cairo.

Cairo offers to make out with Winnie and send a picture to Boris to try to get the coach jealous, perhaps getting her revenge at that moment at the coach rather than her desired revenge against Jonathan. Cairo manages to manipulate Winnie's obvious feelings for her, kissing surprisingly lustfully and hard since it was a supposed ruse, however that moment soon breaks and Cairo dismisses Winnie coldly.

Boris is shown to be a complete hypocrite. His boundaries with students are just as bad as Jonathan despite his denial. The first meeting we see of him and Jonathan is Boris stealing Cairo's erotic novel she had left behind and reading it aloud, completely ignoring any decency of Cairo's privacy. His relationship to our knowledge doesn't go as far as Cairo's and Miller's. However texting a student's personal cell at night is a violation in itself. At  the end of the movie  he tells Jonathan that he “never crossed the line”  in complete denial of how close he could have been in the same boat as Jonathan if Winnie didn't protect him from Cairo's threats. Winnie and  Cairo's friendship becomes a casualty as Cairo blackmails her silence by threatening to out Winnies situation with Boris.

His ‘survival’ for Jonathan's public fall from Grace.

The telling thing is that Cairo didn't lie when talking to the Dean. 

The fact that Cairo told the total truth to the dean leads me to believe that the kiss we saw wasn't real, she was all set to ruin his life and mentioning the kiss would've been the sure way to do that, however she didn't mention it once.

I believe Cairo is many things..but I don't believe she is a liar.

Honestly kiss or no kiss, it doesn't really matter.

Even more confirmation that Miller is not the victim of this story. The dean was asking all the right questions to find out if he did anything inappropriate. The fact that every answer she gave was the truth and the dean looked disgusted is proof in itself. She had a meeting with Cairo first, and Jonathan confirmed everything that Cairo said but was trying to excuse his actions the entire time. The dean thankfully didn't buy into his excuses.

Jonathan Miller is the Villain of this story, his choices were what lead him on this path, he could have done what any respectable teacher would have done and shut Cairo's flirtations down, but his ego and attraction won over his common sense.

Cairo’s actions do not cancel out her victimhood.

The Ending however was a bit too ambiguous for my taste. Through it all, Jenna Ortega is captivating enough to keep me watching. Freeman is completely overshadowed by not only Ortega’s performance, but most of the supporting cast. “like imitation crab in gas station sushi” is a very accurate description to his portrayal of the very one note character.

Cairo Sweet may be the character I will defend absolutely. A morally grey protagonist who deserved better.

#millers girl #miller's girl #millers girl spoilers #miller's girl spoilers #movie review #movie recap #cairo sweet #jonathan miller #jenna ortega #martin freeman

[smallfrenchstudyblr]

Justice as spectacle in Fontaine, or a too long word vomit from a tired PhD in Law gushing over Genshin 4.0

Alternative title: “Justice must be seen to be done”, a visual playbook by Genshin 4.0

Intro: This is a valid use of a PhD in law, actually.

I made the mistake of playing the 4.0 update of Genshin while I was finalizing my PhD in law and politics, and the result was my brain refuse to think about anything else than judicial performativity and the use judicial spectacle in Fontaine. So time to make good use of 9 years of University by dissecting why I absolutely love how Fontaine’s justice system is presented. It was initially much longer and covering why justice as a spectacle is not necessarily an issue or sign of a disfunctionning legal system,  then what exactly about the Fontainian justice system is actually fucked up, but it got too long so I’m keeping that for the indeterminate future. So the pitch of this thing is: Mihoyo is basically providing us with an animated First Person POV game version of legal ethnographic works on justice and the courthouse, and it is really cool.

And since I am a nerd with both too much time to read and to play, we are making this a proper academic, with literature and all, because listen to me, LEGAL ACADEMICA IS COOL, ACTUALLY, and law and literature at large is a genuine field of study that we, as a society, need to talk about more.

[also there is non-zero chance that I edit this brainrot and submit it for publication at some point]

Warning: I am basing this on 4.0, up to and including Act IV Chapter II (hence no discussion of the prison system) and if Mihoyo thwarts the whole thing with 4.1  [oops I am late so now 4.2, since 4.1 did not thwart it] then let’s do what we do when new results contradict existing theories in academia and just collectively agree to ignore it.

TL;DR: Someone at Mihoyo read Simonett’s 1966 essay on The Trial as One of the Performing Arts [Here, just read it, it is fascinating] and decided to make it everyone’s problem

Part 0: if this was not Tumblr.com I would make a recap explaining broadly what Genshin and Fontaine are but since you are reading this I’m going to assume you already know the context.

Part 1: Ok so how does the Fontanian Justice system work, exactly?

Alright, so each area of Teyvat has 1) one core theme/value and 2)a threat to that core theme/value.

Mondstadt has Freedom and people living in fear of a dragon.

Liyue has Contracts/order and the pandemonium of having Rex Lapis killed.

Inazuma has Eternity and being virtually frozen in time.

Sumeru has Knowledge and being entirely manipulated by the Akademia.

Fontaine has Justice and… Justice being parodied into a spectacle?

WRONG.

Because the spectacle of justice, especially the way it is done in Fontaine, is not antithetic to Justice itself. Spectacle is part and parcel of Justice and of any courthouse. Sure, all the dials are turned to 11 and y’know, it is legit called an Opera, but that is more the writers being a bit on the nose and adding drama for the player. The spectacle of Justice, itself, is not that far off from reality. And, hot take but bear with me: it is not (necessarily) a problem.

Ok, let’s dive into what we know of the justice system in Fontaine.

Broadly speaking, we have seen the criminal justice system, and it is an accusatorial, or adversarial model. It’s the US-style criminal procedure: you have a defendant trying to prove that they didn’t do it your honor, and a prosecutor proving that they totally did it your honor. To avoid this becoming a fistfight, you have a strict procedure to follow outside but especially inside the Court, and in the end, a neutral third party decides on the outcome or the trial.

Ok, now let’s zoom on a few things, and why the theatrics of them are actually very common.

Furina, our cringefail darling, is the prosecutor. And they get a lot of stuff right regarding the role of the prosecutor! She decides whether or not to prosecute, based on the information that she has, and whether she likes her odds or not. Fittingly since she is the Archon, the prosecutor in a trial represents the State, the interest of the State (the judge ! does ! not!). It makes sense that Furina, the ruler (theoretically) would be prosecutor and not judge. Moreover, and as we see plenty of times during the trials, Prosecutor Furina is not concerned with the victim, and not even necessarily with the truth; the prosecutor wants to know how likely they are to obtain a conviction in the end. Her job is to be convincing enough to establish a legal truth.

Neuvillette, for his part, sometimes look terribly powerless… but friends, that is what a Judge sitting during a criminal case often is. The first part of his job is to find sufficient information for the prosecution to decide whether or not to prosecute; he is supposed to be entirely neutral at this stage. He kickstarted the investigation straight after the death of Cowell, and was also the one starting investigation on Vaughn right after Lyney is proved innocent. He gathers enough evidence, hands them over to Furina and asks “So? Are you game or do you want to leave that alone?”

And once the prosecutor has decided to move forward with prosecuting, his job is to make the procedure move along, take some decisions based on new information, ensure all respect the rules (hence Childe’s immediate smackdown when he starts to act out a bit too much at the end. My man is here to make sure the rules are enforced and that also applies to Snezhnayan gremlins). In the liminal space of the courthouse, he is the supreme authority… over the procedure. He can tell anyone, including Furina, to stfu k thx. He starts and stops the trial. He allows witnesses to be heard or not.

And the last party involved at this point is the defense, usually the Traveler and any adorable twink we befriended that day [good for you, Traveler, good for you]. They present evidence, they have to be convincing, it’s basically Ace Attorney, we know that part.

Part 2: Mihoyo makes it clear that we are all actors in the Courtroom

Ok, first moment of pause.

Even though these are the most basic parts of a criminal trial, they are ALREADY steeped in drama and theatrics, both IRL and in Fontaine.

First off, Furina plays a prosecutor, Neuvillette plays a judge and the Traveller plays the lawyer.

No but really: they play their role in the Courthouse.

The game painstakingly presents Furina for the first time not as a prosecutor in a courthouse but as a cringefail princess. When we see her initially welcoming the Traveller, going “Fight Me” at them in the streets of Fontaine, she is not a prosecutor, she is just Furina the cringefail princess.  We meet Furina as Furina, and later on only, we see her with her Prosecutor face. Furina is not a prosecutor, outside of the Courthouse.

I don’t even have to explain how much Traveler plays lawyer. We are, and I cannot stress it enough, NOT lawyers (yes, even you who developed an unhealthy obsession with Ace Attorney before Genshin). The developers even took the time to develop an entire new gameplay to really, really highlight that is a behavior that the Traveler can only have in the Courthouse. Traveler is not a lawyer outside of the courthouse.

Neuvillette is a bit of a special case. We do meet him for the first time in the Courthouse, as a Judge. But once again, the moment we meet him outside of the courthouse, he is much more approachable, definitely not the same persona as when he bitchslapped my problematic Harbinger into the Meropides prison [we are so going to write something about the Meropides prison once I have played enough 4.1 my friends – update post 4.1: ok Mihoyo that was weak commentary on the privatization of prison and prison labour but I’ll take it]. Neuvillette is probably the one that is the most associated with his courthouse persona, but there is still this gap between Neuvillette-Judge and Neuvillette-reflecting-in-the-end-of-Chapter-II.

So everyone is just themselves in their daily life, but there is something about a Courthouse that turns people into their judicial role. That’s what we call the liminality of the courthouse (Hadar, 1999). And it exists IRL, in a way shockingly close to what we see in the Opera Epiclese.

Magistrates, whether prosecutors or judges, do not act in their own names, they have a role to play. Someone woke up that morning, had breakfast, swore at the neighbour who did not park properly again, spilled some coffee on their documents again ffs, stumbled a bit on the little steps leading to the courthouse, and then, they put on their costume and started to play the role of the judge. As someone who has been in what can only be referred to as “backstage”  of a court , and entered the courthouse with the magistrates, I cannot stress enough how drastic the shift in person is the moment a magistrate steps into the space of the trial room.  

From there on, they are a Role. Furina, like any prosecutor, is not a prosecutor, until they are The Prosecutor, and then they are not themselves anymore, in the enclosed space of the courthouse. Have you ever seen a lawyer talk in their daily life the way to talk in a courthouse? No. Someone is just some person, until their put on the robe and their Lawyer Face and start their Lawyer Movement and Lawyer Tone. Traveler cannot go all OBJECTION when they have a disagreement with a random shopkeeper in Teyvat. The game doesn’t even give you the option – because you are not lawyer, unless you are in the court. None actually plays a lawyer, unless they are in the courthouse.

And an adversarial model encourages this. You have character, but for it to be a play, or an opera, you need a narrative (murder, ok, that will kickstart a narrative) and you need dramatic tension. Drama is created by the opposition of two characters having opposite goals, confronting each other. Simonett, a former Minessotta Supreme Court Judge, has a fascinating article called “The Trial as One of the Performing Art”, which really ecapsulates how an adversarial system is built on this drama:

‘The trial has a protagonist, and antagnonist, a proscenium and an audience, a story to be told and a problem to be resolved, all usually in three acts”.

More than an inquisitory model (hello, fellow continental Europeans), parties are encouraged to bounce off each other, take initiative, undermine and interact with each other. US courthouse TV shows loooove that, and Genshin absolutely leaned into that. The potential for drama was so strong and intrinsic to the story that For the first time, we got to play a character that was not even with the traveler: Traveler was off investigating, and we played Navia in the courthouse, because the sheer drama of being in the courthouse is too good for the game to pass.

Do you see it yet? Here is more. A judicial role is a role. IRL, a lot of it is emphasized by the robes -the - sometimes complete with wigs and accessories- that judges and magistrates must wear before entering the space of the courthouse. You put them on like you put on a costume -defendant, prosecution, judge and even audience alike (Cabatingan, 2018), there is a ritual of preparing for the performance of a trial the way you prepare for a play. Genshin characters cannot change their clothes [give us a proper fancy-af-judge-robe for Neuvilette Mihoyo you COWARDS], so the game does all it can to realllllyy show you a separation between the judicial role and the actor playing I in the courthouse.

Part 3: Game designers said yes this an Opera and a Courthouse because these are the same thing and they are right

[The urge to include Foucault in this section, but I do not have Discipline and Punish with me rn, rip]

Ok, ok, why not. But what about the stuff that is not in your random courthouse, like a damn AUDIENCE and the fact that it takes place in an actual OPERA ?

Aight, we gotta dive a bit deeper into two things: the role of audience in the judicial spectacular, and studies on legal architecture/judicial space. I told you legal research was cool.

Let’s start with the most obvious one: architecture.

The architecture of Courthouse is actually really important for the delivery of justice. The building embodies the task itself, and targets evert single person that interacts with the building in any way? It matters specifically because we take it for granted, that this this is just a building, that there cannot be more to it. Or: “Law in its everydayness, banks on the usage of visual means of representation, for they seem to lack artifice, and thus enjoy high persuasiveness” (Kumar, 2017, also this is a study on the architecture of the Indian Supreme court and it is so good). But thi is, of course, on purpose.

My friends, your local courthouse looks like an opera. Recently, I went to a play which was entirely a trial, and they barely had to do anything to set-up the scene because… the opera looks like a courthouse, and vice versa. Fontaine’s Opera Epiclese is this on steroid, and also actually used for entertainment like the magic shows, but its architecture and structure are so close to a proper courthouse that once you see it you cannot unsee it. Not matter how different they might look from each other, all, ALL courtroom have the same setup:

Judges on an elevated position compared to all other parties : Neuvillette absolutely kills it here [my man is placed so high up I was close to writing something about the religiosity of justice.]

Prosecution and accused on two opposite sides, virtually separated by the judge, even putting the defendant in their own little liminal space in the liminal space (Zoettl, 2016, Mulcahy, 2007)

Audience space and trial space clearly separated, with interdiction for the audience to enter the trial space

Audience space allowing to clearly see all angles of the trial space

The architecture of courthouse is strikingly similar to that of an opera’s, both in its spatial organization and its grandiose. The entire building is an opera, not just the ground of the stage. You even have a lobby, the space right in the Opera but not the courtroom, which is very similar to the space where people mingle during the interlude at the Opera – the social settings were many legal negotiations happen (Hansen, 2008)

[Fun fact: I am pretty sure the design of the audience space of the Opera Epiclese was inspired by two Parisian Opera houses: the Théâtre de la Comédie Française et the Théâtre du Châtelet. The stage itself is almost more church-like ; I am curious if anyone knows what the inspiration for the “outside building” actually was, for the Opera Epiclese?]

Eltringham (2012) has some really cool writings about the architecture, and people interact with the structure of courts (in his case, the International Criminal for Rwanda) and how all these features contribute to making the courthouse this liminal space where people can play their role, whether they realise it or not.

But, Almost-doctor, I hear you say, what about the spectacle ?! The audience enjoying the show ?!

Ah, yes. The audience. Just as with an Opera, the audience and the actors enter through differentiated means (the “segregation of circulatory systems”), all with their own point of access to the stage or the seats, and never the two shall meet. It is so important to a court system that you will find this feature highlighted by the architects that renovated the Bordeaux Courthouse and the US courthouse design and planning guide [These are just fun and striking illustration I stumbled on while writing this, you can find dozens of others from any given country]. These differentiated access path help reinforce the liminality of the courthouse not just for the actors, but for us, the audience as well.

You could even agree, with Garapon, that the audience itself is “playing” the audience, in the Courthouse (go read Garapon’s 2004 book, if you read French, it’s so good I swear and like it fueled 90% of whatever this word vomit is)). You are not really yourself, you have new, liminal role of spectator. A trial has a “need for a public”, even a silent one. “'Performance always intends an audience”, for Kapferere. and we can indeed talk about a Performance of Justice, when talking about how justice unfolds in the courthouse, especially in a criminal trial (Sausdal and Lohne, 2021).

The audience is an inherent part of the spectacle of justice – because is there a spectacle if there I no audience? If comedians perform a play with no audience, did it really happen? In the words of our own European Court of Human Rights (I am quoting the ECtHR on Tumblr.com, what is life): “Justice must not only be done, but must also be seen to be done” (Delcourt v Belgium, 1970). For Garfinkel “Legal rituals ... depend on the outside witness to confer on them not only recognition but validity” (Garfinkel, 1956);

Or, to put it more eloquently: “The need for the presence of a validating public at trials is enshrined in many constitutions and built into the very fabric of court complexes throughout the world. (…) Tthe court as a whole requires its reflection in the bodies of validating witnesses in order that this created place will bring sufficient gravity to itself.” (Eltringham 2012).

If a courthouse was just about the truth, or the parties involved reaching an agreement on what the truth is, there would be no need for the theatrics. We could handle a trial in a meeting group like problem-solving session in any run-of-the-mill company. Put everyone around the table, have a moderator, have a decider. That actually exist, it’s called arbitration, and you may have never heard of it despite the absolutely enormous amount of money that are involved (we are talking literal Billions of dollars every year, here), because the whole point is that it is discrete and confidential. But that is not how trials are, anywhere. It does exist though. It is called private arbitration, a form of private justice that focuses on problem-solving, expediency and secrecy, often because my friends, it involves big names and big money.

But justice? My friend, it needs to be a spectacle. It needs an Opera. Because this is how it gains sociological legitimacy, and it needs sociological legitimacy to function. By having an audience, it gains transparency and accountability.

Conclusion: teaser on why the spectacle of justice is not necessarily always totally bad, but also I am too tired to fully argue that.

Now, you might that it’s a bad idea. That what Genshin is doing is denouncing this inherently spectacular aspect of Justice, that there is something inherently wrong in justice being public and publicized for the gain of legitimacy, and sure, spectacular justice can become a parody of justice or a manipulation of justice and this has happened many times in history. And yes, you could go for that (although show trials have typically been at the service of an authoritarian regime in a transition phase, rising or declining, and target political opponents, which we do not see in Fontaine) but… I have another take for you.

Justice being a spectacle is not…  inherently bad. 

Hear me out. Making justice into a spectacle does not have to affect its outcome. The presence of a public does not change the course of a play.

Spectacular justice brings elements of entertainment such as narrative fulfillment and catharsis. That is clearly what Fontainians want: a satisfying end to the story, the truth exposed. Justice as a spectacle help people make sense of their reality, comfort them in knowing that justice does prevail. That the guilty do not go scott-free, that the good guys win, that justice is transparent, that prosecutor need to be able to build a good story to prosecute, and there is no good story is there is not someone who caused harm, and a victim that deserves justice. And, from the information we have so far, this does not seem to lead to miscarriages of justices, or a generally biased justice system. But frankly this is too long already and I just wanted to show that the depiction of the Spectacular in everyday justice is actually present everywhere IRL, and Genshin is just providing a really handy illustration, at this point of the story.

The Fontanian system is fucked, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not about the spectacular on its own. Long story short since it be worth its own word-vomit-style essay, it’s because the jury has been replaced by ChatGPT and there is no civil court, only a criminal court, k bye.

#I have no idea what this is it just would not leave my brain until it was written #genshin impact #tagging genshin bc it is the most relevant #law and literature #Usual followers feel free to ignore #Genshin people: this is NOT my usual content #might fuck around and turn it into something publishable at some point #this is probably still full of typo but I am not proof reading a word vomit that goes on this hellsite

[antimony-medusa]

Why do MultiFandom Exchanges Run on Don't Like: Don't Read?

I was writing that writeup about the amperslash exchange last night, and I realized that some people don't know this. So. Say you are running a multifandom exchange. You got a big amount of people sign up for it, there's like 84 people signed up, and they all nominated 3 fandoms, and there's a bunch of overlap, but you are stil looking at like 120 different fandoms. You have a big mod team, for an exchange that isn't Yuletide, cause there's two of you running this exchange. Do you think that you are intimately familiar with all of those fandoms?

I have been around the internet for a long time, and I know a lot of fandoms by sight, but let me tell you, I could not tell you on-sight which of the Mass Effect relationships are canonically (or even fanonically) considered to be toxic/abusive/problematic. If you are running a multifandom exchange, there is simply no viable way to know the network of these relationships in canon, much less once you consider in fandon stuff like "these people are commonly headcanoned as siblings".

So like, say you wanted to say "no abusive relationships?" or "no incest?" I've seen exchanges try to run with that rule. You are immediately vulnerable to people coming in and saying "oh these people are canonically related" when what happened is a queercoded relationship got translated as "cousins" in the english dub. Or they mean "he's like a brother to me" that gets used as family headcanon fodder. Or a relationship where people were enemies to lovers is presented as "abusive" because of their past. And then suddenly you, the mod team of two people, is poring over localization notes and clips and fanon essays instead of doing the hundred other things that an exchange needs. Even in MCYTblr, I am aware of a lot of lore, and I keep being surprised by things like people saying "oh empires and hermit false are canonically sisters", and I watched the empires crossover. It is simply not viable to keep up with which relationships might be toxic/problematic in every relationship in every fandom on the internet. AND you're faced with things like "well this apepars to be canonically okay, but fanon would say otherwise, so if we let it through, people are still gonna be mad/hurt because the fanon is so pervasive, but if we turn it down, people are gonna be mad because canonically it's fine, so—"

It's a moderating nightmare. So the only viable way forward is to say "we will let literally anything into the exchange, be warned that there might be stuff you find objectionable in the tag set, by participating you agree that even if you disagree you're not gonna harass anyone for it" and we go. But you do want to make sure that nobody has to write a relationship they have a problem with, right? Well, that's why the "you only have to write what you offered" rule. The way the matching works is you only match to what you offered, so if there are five ships you don't agree with and two you do in the tag set, you just offer your two, and then you'll be matched on the two.

You offer what you're comfortable with, and then the algorithm does its work, and then even if you match to someone who requested something you go "oh boy" to, everyone agrees to ignore everything they didn't match to, so you just put a sticky note over that part of the screen, and continue with the one relationship you do agree with that person on.

But how do you make sure that the person who thinks that this popular relationship is abusive (they hate it and wants them to break up) and the person who thinks this relationship is actually fine and hcs it as fluffy, and the person thinks it's bad but wants to watch them destroy each other hand in unloveable hand, all get what they want? There are 84 people in your exchange, it absolutely does not work to match fluff writers to fluff writers by hand.

That's when DNWs and defaults happen. Your DNW is everything you don't want to see, so the person who wants fluff can write down "I do not want toxic dynamics" and the person who wants them to break up can DNW "happy endings", and everyone will get a gift that matches their specifications. And defaults— that's for if you match on a relationship you like, but it turns out the person you requested only wanted canon-typical homophobia and unhappy endings, and you want fluff, so you can say "actually I can't write this", you send it back to the mods, they post it as a pitch hit, and it gets picked up by someone who can look at the whole request, go "yeah I can rock with some canon-typical homophobia and unhappy endings" and opt in specifically to the request.

The whole system is set up to try and balance "everything is welcome, we are not passing judgement on your fandom" (the dl:dr attitude about what's allowed in) and "you only have to opt in to anything, nobody gets forced to write something they don't like/agree with" (you only match on what you offered and requested, you can default if someone asks something you don't like). That's the exchange space standard.

And THAT is why matching in a big exchange is always an adventure, and that's why the entire exchange space has agreed, to make this whole thing we're doing together to work, to just go "that's not for me, but you do you" and just move on when they see something they don't personally vibe with.

#cw incest mention #fandom meta #fandom exchanges

[booksndpoetry]

Nerdy is the New Sexy

A Han Jisung Fanfic

m.list

A/N: If anyone gets the title reference, know that I love you.

WC: 1.08k words

Genre: Fluff

Characters: University Student Han Jisung X Gn reader

Triggers/Warnings: Idiots in love, mutual, oblivious pining (I don't like this but here we are)

“Your/Name. Go to sleep.” Jisung says from his room, rubbing his eyes.

You startle at the sudden noise, only to realize it's your roommate, staying up because of the harsh light coming from your room.

“Sorry,” you say, “I’ll just be up for a few more minutes.” “What’s so important you’re staying up for it?”

He comes into your room to peer into your laptop screen. Your breathing quickens at the proximity. He squints for a moment and then he looks at you dead in the eyes.

“Why the hell are you researching Popular dishes of the Medieval Period?” “You never know. I might need it” you weakly defend, though you were just insatiably curious. “God, you’re such a nerd.” He says fondly.

You almost forget how to breathe. Both, from the words coming and the person speaking them. 

“I’m not a nerd,” you reply, your tone soft, but firm.

“I’m not a nerd because nerds genuinely spend their time learning new things, things that make them appreciate the world more. Something that justifies as well as glorifies their existence on this planet. It's like giving back because you have a chance to live a life. I'm not a nerd because I sometimes procrastinate and end up hurriedly finishing the essay in two hours instead of the four I'd originally kept apart for it.” You ramble in one breath. 

Han watches you, soft eyes taking in your every breath and relishing in the words you speak. He didn’t know it was possible to love someone so much, without even touching them. For him, you were the human embodiment of love and he didn’t like it when you discredited yourself, even for the smallest of things.

“But you write as good of an essay you do in two as well as you do one in four.” He says firmly. 

“That’s true,” you muse, “Work expands to fill the Time allocated to it, I guess.” He gives you a self-satisfied look that says ‘See? I told you so.’ 

“You’re a nerd,” he says in finality. ”Don't even start about how you're not qualified to be one. You're the biggest nerd I know. You're a writer, you make everything sound enjoyable, you're kind, and you have such thoughts about nerds. You're the epitome of a nerd if I ever saw one. So don't worry your little head and come back to sleep. I don't want to drag you to class tomorrow and hear your whining.” He ends his speech with a tired expression as if recounting all the times he dragged your whiny self to classes held at ungodly hours of the morning.

Your heart lurched and backflipped in your chest. God, this was embarrassing, even if you were the only one who witnessed your lovesickness.

He was basically confessing to you, in terms of, hot romance novel terms. But he wasn't the male lead of a romcom and you weren't the protagonist. He was your roommate and you were his friend he was forced to get acquainted with because of your living situation, nothing more.

You don’t want to have fantasies that will end up being just that, fantasies.

So you don’t think about how nice his smile is, or how his arms have been bulging out from his sleeveless shirts recently and how utterly easy it is to love him.

You decide you'll just keep this safely tucked into your mind, where nothing can reach it. You vow to yourself you'll keep it safe for when you second guess whether you really want to keep loving him, when you second guess if you need to keep writing, or when you feel like giving up on yourself. You're nothing if not a writer of your words.

‘What a lame excuse of a pun.’ You tell yourself. But then with the look he's giving you, you realise you haven't given him a response to his words, yet. And you sheepishly smile as he shakes his head, knowing you got caught up in your head again.

“Thank you,” you tell him. You want to tell him of your gratitude in great detail, in a much more deserving way, but words have deserted your mind now and these will have to do.

He smiles, “You act like it isn't true. It is. Now hurry up and get to bed.” He pats your bed and falls into the mass of pillows you’ve kept there. You giggle at his action. That was another thing. You were always smiling around him. He made it so easy. 

"Talk dirty to me, why don't you?" you say, playfully wiggling your eyebrows and he throws a chocolate wrapper around you. You frown at that.

“That was my bookmark, you dweeb.”

“So?” he questions as though it means nothing.

“Find another one” he says nonchalantly and you want to throw a brick at his stupidly beautiful face.

“I can’t. Ugh. What do you know about the struggles of a bookworm?”

He rolls his eyes at your theatrics. Even as he makes a note to carry some chocolates for you tomorrow, so you can have enough bookmarks.

“I’ll get you your favourite drink if you come to bed right now,” he says, attentive eyes waiting for your reaction.

For one moment, when he says that, you pretend he's your boyfriend who’s really in love with you. You know you shouldn’t do it but all the fics on your phone say otherwise. So, you pretend he's beckoning you to come sleep next to him, waiting to pull your face under his chin and rest his head on yours. It feels heavenly, the feeling. You wouldn't ever refuse to go to bed if it were real. So you don't refuse now. You turn off your computer and your desk lamp, take off your glasses and dive headfirst into your bed, and it’s his turn to giggle at your antics. You won’t refuse him anything even if he’s not yours. The power he had over you, you didn’t ever want him to know. 

He tucks you in like a baby, and whispers “Sleep well, you nerd”, and then he’s off to his own room. You merely smile and snuggle in, and you’re out like a light moments after.

Only when the door is firmly shut, does he kick his feet in the air, having a full-on meltdown after being so near to you. Was this his punishment for writing songs with unrequited love? He groaned. It was so unfair. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration for characters. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

#+booksndpoetry #straykidsland #stray kids #stray kids han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung x y/n #skz imagines #skz #stayblr #skz han #romance one shots #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #writing #writeblr #han jisung fluff #skz fluff

[spiderrrling]

Guts to say anything (Eddie Munson x F! Reader)

Pairing - Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary - Two idiots in love finally being able to admit their feelings to each other, middle school best friends to lovers

Warnings - None! Just the slightest amount of angst 

Word count - 3433

A/N - This fic is based on the song Guts by All Time Low, give it a listen while you read!! Another fic I’ve managed to bang out during work, I’m really happy with this one just because I think its super cute :) have fun!

Requests are open and feedback is always appreciated! Remember to leave a like and comment/reblog to support your local fic writers

The trailer was quiet this time of night, but the soft voice of Eddie Munson. Wayne had left a couple of hours ago for his shift at the plant. Eddie's uncle always insisted she just call him Wayne, or Uncle Wayne, insisting that she was practically family so there was no need for a Sir or Mr when speaking with him.

Fall had come to Hawkins and the happy feeling of summer had subsided as the season shifted and a new semester at Hawkins High started.

It was an ordinary Tuesday evening. She had promised Eddie she would come over and help him write his paper for Ms. Click's class, determined to help him finally graduate high school two years late so they could graduate together. 

Papers laid strewn around his bed, and their countless history books laid among them along with pens and highlighters. Eddie was reading aloud a passage for his paper for her to hear.

She was laid out on his bed, her head laid along the side of the bed close to where Eddie was sitting on the floor, his back against the bed with his paper in his hands. Her handwriting intertwined his on the paper.

"From this perspective it may be considered that the allied forces were rescued by the Americans joining the war efforts during the first world war, helping to turn the tide against the Germans." 

"Don't say Germans, it was the Triple Entente." She corrected him, nabbing the paper from his hand and underlining the word, indicating he should fix it.

"And this is exactly why I keep you around." Eddie joked and took back his paper before he started reading again, this time with his narration voice that he used for Dungeons and Dragons, making his very ordinary paper on World War One a much more enjoyable experience and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, you know I can't focus when you do that." She whined and kicked his shoulder with her foot. "It's too late to focus anyway." Eddie rubbed his face, trying to keep the sleepiness at bay.

She had been helping Eddie with his essays for what seemed like forever. They had been friends since middle school, and their friendship had started with her hating every single ounce of his being. Ever since Eddie had checked out every single Dungeons and Dragons book he could find in the library, and not caring to return them by their due date.

The librarian had gotten so tired of her constant asking about the books being returned that she told who had checked them out. That day at lunch, she sat next to Eddie for the first time and demanded to see the books, since he was keeping her from learning about the fantastical world of Dungeons and Dragons, it only seemed fair.

And that had been the start of their friendship. He had been older, which sucked because it meant they never shared their library period together, and he went to high school before her. But ever since the club started there had always been a spot for her in Hellfire. "It's only fair after I kept you from the game for so long." He'd joke and say.

Ever since that day they had been thick as thieves, practically joined at the hips and everyone knew that. When Eddie was a senior and got his first note that he would be held back she had joked he'd failed just to stay with her, it may not have been that far from the truth if you asked him.

"You know, I'm convinced you just can't leave me here all by my lonesome."

"Yeah, you're right someone's gotta keep an eye on you, because we all know I am the voice of reason in this friendship." He would jab right back at her. "Besides, I can't have you find a new prank partner if I'm not around."

"I could never." She meant it, there was no one that could ever replace Eddie, his place in her life.

Eddie bought her books, all sorts of them. Fantasy, science fiction, classical literature. Just to be able to see her reaction to reading them. In return she would supply him and subsequently the Hellfire club with baked goods.

They fit so well together, there was never any pressure to be anyone else but themselves when they were around each other. Being with Eddie was easy, it was natural and it was perfect.

Which is what made it so difficult to tell when these feelings had started. Eddie had always been cute, even when his hair was buzzed in middle school. But as he got older, and his hair got longer, there was a different sort of charm to him. And she had started picking up on it.

The way he started dressing, finding his classic rock inspired style with his rings and chains. The leather jacket he absolutely refused to go without. Deciding one day to cut his own bangs, which ended up in her having to help him.

Her eyes would be lingering for a little too long on his face, finding her eyes wandering during class to where he was sitting just so she could look at him. Or her mind going completely crazy with thoughts of him.

Before she really knew what had happened she found herself in the scenario having the biggest crush, on her longest and best friend. She had tried pushing the feelings away, but that just made them come by stronger. She would come home from school, or from his trailer and just scream into her pillow.

Butterflies kept appearing in her stomach whenever she was around him and she found herself stuttering and falling over her words more and more frequently.

Some part of her heart had slowly been falling in love with Eddie Munson, until she was head over heels without noticing before it was too late.

Eddie had continued reading aloud his essay but she wasn't listening to what he was saying. She was too focused on his voice to be able to listen to what he was saying.

She had been in his room more times than she could count. Granted it had changed a lot over the years. She had helped him hang at least half of the posters that decorated the walls, even helped him install his precious guitar stand. His room was messy, but in a lived in sort of messy charming way. It felt like crawling inside a part of Eddie’s brain and she could spend hours in here studying every inch of the room.

Books that couldn't fit on his small shelf were stacked on the floor in between the heaps of clothes that were spilling out of his closet. It permanently smelled of weed in there, but she didn't mind. In her mind the smell of weed was so closely linked to Eddie by that point.

Her hands ran over the blanket on his bed, the one she had knitted for him when she had her knitting phase years ago. It was worn out and practically falling apart but he had still hung onto it. Same with the one in the living room that laid on the couch.

Some part of Eddie couldn't bring himself to get rid of anything she made. There was a box, shoved to the way back beneath his bed filled to the brim with everything she had ever made him. From failed knitting projects, to every birthday card and even every note she passed him during school.

She was the most solid part of his life beside his uncle. There was never a moment where he felt as if she wasn't there for him. Of course they had fought, they were teenagers who sometimes got too caught up in their own mess to not have had small fights.

But they always found their way back to each other eventually. He would write her a song, or she would bake something and bring to him at the trailer park late at night, and he would let her in and they would eat and laugh about whatever stupid argument they had had.

Eddie had always loved her, deep down no matter the kind he had always loved her since that first day in the cafeteria. The feeling grew and changed with the year, and he realized that she felt like home. His home.

He wasn't sure when his feelings had shifted from platonic companionship into romantic longing, but he adored her. Every part of her, even the ones that sometimes drove him crazy.

It was difficult having her around without the feelings threatening to spill over, but he tried his best to keep them at bay. Convinced she did not feel the same way about him that he felt about her.

Besides, she was already getting flack at school for being best friends with the freak, he couldn't imagine what might happen if they became something more.

"You paying attention up there?" Eddie turned his head to look up at where she was laying. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing slowly. Eddie played with the rings on his fingers, a habit he had picked up when he felt the urge to touch her.

The intense want to brush stray pieces of hair out of her face, or to hold her hand. And the worst thing was that he had done all of those things countless times before. But that was when he wasn't aware of the feelings brewing inside of him and he knew that touching her could send him spiraling.

"Falling asleep?" He asked softly and she only hummed in return. 

"Need me to drive you home? Or you could stay if you want."

She scrunched her nose, knowing her parents didn't care too much but they wouldn't be happy she stayed the night at Eddie's on a school night. She had stayed over at his place more times than she could count, but on a school night?

Her parents thought their friendship in middle school had been cute, but they got more and more suspicious as they both got older.

"You know if you like him that is ok!"

"Mom no gross, it's Eddie I could never think of him that way." 

It had been a lie and she knew it, in fact it was one of the only things she thought about these days. In fact it was one of the things she struggled not to think about.

"You do know it's only ten minutes to walk right?" She pushed herself up so she was resting on her elbows and could look down at where he was seated on the floor.

"And? Hawkins is dangerous this time of the night." It was true, more and more strange things kept happening in the small town they used to think was so dull the most dangerous thing that could happen was someone dying of boredom.

She only laughed him off, grabbing her bag and stuffing all her school materials into it. Not worried about leaving anything because Eddie would just bring it the next day.

"Well, if something happens you'll get to say I told you so at my funeral."

Her parents weren't the only ones suspicious of their relationship. Eddie's uncle would occasionally cast them a couple of quick looks. And their friends were convinced it was only a matter of time before they got together. They would never say it directly, but they teased it a lot.

Everyone else but them seemed to have picked up on the feelings they both had towards each other. The two of them were completely oblivious to it.

Eddie stayed seated at the floor as she packed up. "Well if you don't hurry your funeral will be from dying in your room after your parents ground you after breaking curfew again."

"Wait, what time is it?" Her blood ran cold, she had already broken curfew twice already this month because of Eddie and even though her parents seemed to like Eddie, they did not appreciate his ability to make her late home.

"Just about to be eleven." Eddie turned his wrist to read the watch face that was strapped to it. "Shit." She cursed under her breath and hurried her movement, shoving the last of her stuff into the bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Eddie's lips without realizing what she had done, she walked out of his room. Just as she had stepped outside and replayed the last thirty seconds in her mind she realized what she had done.

Her limbs went completely numb and practically went into shock. Deciding it was best to not look back at the mess she created she kept walking starting her trail back home.

Eddie on the other hand was completely stunned, unable to form a coherent thought. His fingertips gently grazed his lips where hers had been just a moment before.

His body acted before he could think and suddenly he was on his feet running out of the trailer. His boots crunching against the gravel road leading out of the trailer park as he ran after her.

Now Eddie hadn't actually thought about what he would say when he caught up with her, just that he couldn't let her leave just yet. "Hey! Hey wait up!" He shouted after her, and she stopped for a moment turning to look at him.

His cheeks were flushed pink, but it wasn't from the run or from the early fall temperatures. She felt her chest clench and mouth going dry as he approached, terrified that what she had just done had ruined their friendship.

"You- you can't leave." Eddie simply said he was a little out of breath and his hand had grabbed onto her wrist keeping her from leaving. He was only holding it loosely and she could easily have pulled it out of his grasp, but it suggested he wanted her to stay. "Not after that you can't leave."

There was a sincerity in his voice as he spoke and she could see his eyes were softer than normal.

"Eddie I'm sorry I don't know why I did that it was stupid and I didn't think-"

"You walk to school every morning, which is ridiculous because I've offered to drive you a million times. And you're a reckless pedestrian and I've probably almost hit you more times than I can count." Eddie blurted out, neither of them were sure of what he was saying. "And I know exactly what you bring for lunch every day because it's always the same, except for on Fridays because then you bring your homemade banana bread and you always let me have a piece."

She could see his face was slowly turning more and more red as he spoke. 

"Because that is just who you are, you're kind. So kind in fact that you still help me with my homework, and you show up to Hellfire early every single week without fail to help me set up. You've never forgotten my birthday, and I know that because I've saved every single card you've ever made me. You refuse to learn how to drive because it terrifies you."

Eddie was full on rambling now, it was as if his brain couldn't keep up with the words coming out of his mouth. A part of her found it adorable, but she was also utterly confused.

"Why are you-" Eddie cut her off again, still not letting her speak. "Let me finish please because if I don't finally say it I feel like I might explode."

"I don't care that you're my best friend, that you're a part of my life, my family. I don't care that you're also a mess." She could feel her own cheeks heating up as he spoke. "And I don't care what happened in there, why you did it. I love you, I've loved you every single day since we first met. And I don't care if you don't feel the same way but you have to know that I love you."

She finally managed to meet his gaze and look him in the eye. His dark brown eyes shining in the dimly lit night.

"Are you done?" He nodded in response, biting his bottom lip. A thousand thoughts were racing through both of their heads as they stood there in the night looking at each other. And for a couple of moments she was unable to speak, slowly processing what he had just said.

Those words that she had only imagined in his wildest dreams that he would say. Was this really real? Did he actually say these things? Or was this just another dream and in reality she was tucked into her bed sleeping peacefully.

But no, he was there, standing in front of her. His hand was still around her wrist proving that this was really happening. She could feel the cold metal of his rings against her skin and it helped her focus on what was really happening here.

"You're a mess too." She finally said after what felt like an eternity. "And you're my best friend." She pulled her wrist from his grip and she swore she could see something break in his eyes. "And I love you too."

She barely managed to get out the last words before Eddie's hand cupped her face, practically crashing his lips against hers so hard she struggled to breathe. But she didn't care. Her hands threw themselves around his shoulders to steady herself as he kissed her.

The kiss was intense, needy, desperate. No matter how many times she could have imagined their first kiss, she never could have imagined it would be like this. That it would be as magical as this. Eddie kissed her like he was dying and she was the only life line he had left, it didn’t matter how close he could get because it would never be close enough for him.

Finally it was the overwhelming need of oxygen that forced them to pull away from each other. Arms still holding one another tight. Nothing was said between them, the only sound was the two of them breathing heavily. She was dizzy from the kiss, from the intensity of it.

And she was totally and utterly overcome with her feelings for him.

"Shit..." Eddie cursed under his breath as he pulled her even closer, squeezing her in his arms. "If I knew it would feel that good to kiss you I would have admitted my feelings forever ago."

"Forever?" She looked up at him and found his brown eyes meeting hers. "That's at least how long it has felt." Eddie chuckled at her as he hugged her tight. And for a moment they could just stand there, wrapped in each other not saying anything surrounded by the quiet of the trailer park.

"Can I kiss you again?" Eddie asked and she nodded in return, longing for the feeling of his lips against hers again. He leaned down and captured her lips with his, this time it was slower, tender. He was focused on savoring her, drowning in the feeling of her lips, her taste.

Eddie was totally gone, kissing her felt heavenly and he never wanted to stop. Pulling away he rested his lips against her forehead for a moment.

"Changed your mind about that ride?" He asked slyly before pressing a quick kiss to her lips, quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of her lips against his own. "Or maybe staying?" He said before giving her another kiss.

“Only if you call my parents and tell them why I won’t be coming home tonight.”

Eddie paused for a second and she swore she could have seen the gears turning in his head as he was weighing his options. “If it means if I get to spend the night with you, it’ll be worth it.” He pulled her close, letting her rest her head against his shoulder and they simply stood there for a moment. Needing time to process what had just happened.

“Is this weird?” She finally said, peeking up at him from where she stood.

“Totally weird.” He agreed and laughed. She could feel the vibrations of his laugh from deep within his chest. “But in a good way, in a very good way.” 

“Ok, good.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Just making sure.”

Tags for mutuals - @uglypastels @naturallytom @anaaaispunk @hey-its-grey  @shadowfae1878 @munsonlover

Please let me know if you’d like to be included on my tag list!

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x read #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie #stranger things fanfiction #joseph quinn

[tagedeszorns]

(Violetbirdie here) I think it's complicated due to a variety of issues. 40k as a franchise is huge, but it isn't the sort of thing that tends to have overlap with tumblr type fanspaces. It also doesn't help that 40k is a fractured fandom featuring tons of different factions, so it's not like a standard fandom where there are main characters and a main story that people will always flock to. The primarchs are the closest thing we have to that, which is why there is naturally more content for them. In addition, fandom itself is in a bit of a flux state and has been ever since the 2018 nsfw ban which caused a lot of people to leave for twitter, which is now undergoing its own huge changes right now (and I just hate twitter on principle).

I suppose the one thing I think would help, would be somehow getting the 40k tumblresque fandom space more consolidated as a whole. Like, somehow have a blog that is popular for all factions that posts headcanons about everything, thus getting people interested in parts they don't normally think about. Because 40k is a huge time investment to learn about. I've been listening to audiobooks for what feels like nonstop for over a month, and even then I could only ever feel confident telling people about Emperor's Children. So it naturally is harder for new people to get into the fandom and focus on some of the smaller things because there is just so much. It's almost how I view your blog. I check it daily for fun art/headcanons/just general character stuff, and you made me more interested in some of the captains and such. But even then, you have your focuses. So a space even more general where someone would reblog art from everything 40k would likely be nice? Maybe I just miss the livejournal days of fandom. As far as more engagement, I think having silly things like character weeks which encourages people to draw or write or talk about specific aspects is a huge benefit. It sets a schedule and makes people feel like they are shouting less into the void.

But as someone new here, maybe its my weird perspective, but I don't feel like things are getting less popular. If anything, from just checking AO3, it seems like things are only getting more popular for less of the reddit type and more for the Tumblr wanting to see hot dudes and their complicated feelings type. Also more people are getting into 40k in this side of the space through rogue trader. Like people I never talked to about 40k are starting to look into the series because they played Baldurs Gate 3, and needed a new RPG to play, and conveniently Rogue Trader is filling that for them. So, I'm optimistic if anything. Sorry about the long ramble! Just kinda dumping my thoughts out.

I love Tumblr because, unlike Twitter or Bluesky, it allows for way longer, way more elaborately structured posts. I love it when artists don't just slap their pics into a post and be done with it, but instead add stuff like maybe "I read this book, here's a quote, and it gave me this mighty need to draw this". Or "please listen to this music here while looking at my pic! It goes perfectly with it!". Or just a multi-paragraph-essay (preferably very unhinged) about the character in the upper left corner.

This in advance, so you can see I'm totally with you on the "miss Lifejournal"-thing, because blogs are so much better than just 500 characters, four pics and nothing else. And why I think Tumblr is a very good replacement for Lifejournal.

The multitude of Tumblr-blogs with their many different angles are such a treat and provide such a rich ecosystem! I follow artists posting exclusively admech-stuff, others solely Drukhari, some writers focussing on just one Astartes Legion ... it's phantastic and the depth of their niche-knowledge is mindblowing.

I agree with you that this will be overwhelming for new fans coming from rather monolithic stuff like Rogue Trader. And the key to keeping those new people involved and making them feel welcome is showing them all this variety without scaring them away.

Maybe this new feature Tumblr is working on, can be helpful here. I haven't read much about it yet, but it seems the "Community"-feature has the potential to bundle stuff in a way that's more approachable for new and old fans alike. Maybe there's room for your idea of having "character weeks" (I like that! Sounds very MacDonald's. I'll have Fabius with extra pickles, please! 😁).

I'm sharing your optimism that both the new games and maybe the new series/movies will bring a lot of new fans over and some of them may even stick around. I am a bit wary that there's the possibility of a MCU-situation starting to build up, but since Warhammer-lore is in a constant state of flux anyways this might just add some spice to the mix.

So, yeah, hope for the darkest of futures!

#warhammer #Fandom #Tumblr #Meta #Warhammer 40k #Community

[cowgurrrl]

OKAY WAIT

late night talks with college!joel - how reader and him came to date. they were studying they got distracted talking about something and stayed up all night taking. now joel can get her off his mind. 😉

thank you harry styles <3

I’ll kiss you on the mouth dude I love this idea

UPDATE: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT AND IF IT WASNT FOR MY MELATONIN KICKING IN I WOULDVE CONTINUED IT

She’s got a book for every situation

Pairing: college!joel x fem!reader

Summary: this ask

Author’s note: typed in tumblr and not proofread so god speed slayers 🫡

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Joel being The Biggest Flirt, June your BA in English is showing, I think that’s it??

Working at the writing center on campus has its perks. You get unlimited printing, editing experience, and free coffee. Granted, it’s from a pot that had been simmering for several days but it’s free nevertheless. You’ve even managed to get in good with a few professors who would recommend their students come to you if they need help. Normally, they don’t take the advice until finals week and they all scramble into your office all at once. So, when a tall guy with curly dark hair walks into your desolate lobby, you’re a little surprised. He looks lost with a stack of papers piled in his hands and visibly relaxes when he sees you peek your head out.

“Hey there. Can I help you?” You ask, approaching him.

“Maybe. ‘M from Dr. Phillips class and she said to come to the writing center and ask for…” He trails off as he glances down at his paper before saying your name. “Said she might be able to help me with my paper.”

“Yeah, I think she can help you with your paper.” You say and hold out your hand to grab the red inked paper. It’s a paper on Kerouac who’s never been your favorite. In fact, you wrote an entire paper about how pretentious and privileged Jack Kerouac actually was but that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is that you know how to write a paper professors are looking for. You feel his eyes scanning your face as you read his thesis and try to ignore the blush creeping over your cheeks.

“I take it you’re the brilliant writer Dr. Phillips likes so much.” He says. You smile but don’t take your eyes off his words so you don’t get distracted by his presence.

“Dr. Phillips doesn’t like anyone.”

“She seemed to like you. Told me all about how smart you are,” he says. “Never mentioned the pretty part, though.” Finally, you look up and meet his gaze.

“Technically Dr. Phillips isn’t allowed to recommend one student editor over another. It’s against our policy and makes things a little fairer for everyone. So, can we keep this little secret between us…” you let your sentence end, realizing you never asked his name, and he holds out his free hand.

“Joel.” He says and you shake his hand.

“Well, Joel, I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to help you get your paper in order if you agree to not get me fired. Fair deal?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says politely.

You spend the rest of the day walking Joel through essay structures, grammar mistakes, and thesis issues. His argument is strong but it needs to be more concise and punchier. When you try to explain it to him in those terms, he looks at you like you’re from Mars. Eventually, after a little too much flirty small talk, he tells you about his dad’s construction company and you learn to put flowery, over dramatic writing advice into clean, neat boxes that he understands completely. Unfortunately, you don’t end up finishing the actual essay before the center closes.

“You’re free to come back tomorrow morning so we can finish this.” You say as you gather your things and stuff them in your backpack. Joel stretches in his chair, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a gorgeous sliver of tan skin and you have to force your eyes away from the sight.

“D’you live far from here?” He asks, standing and throwing his own backpack over one shoulder. You waffle for a moment, unsure if you want to tell this almost perfect stranger where you live.

“Maybe a ten minute walk. It’s not bad for Austin.”

“Can I walk you home? Since I kept you so late,” he asks. Once again, you hesitate. Joel doesn’t seem like the typical frat guy you’ve come to fear since your time at school. He actually seems gentle and genuine. You turn the thought over a few more times before he throws his hands up. “‘S just an offer to make sure you get home safe. I’ll even carry your backpack for you if you want.” He offers and you smile. You take another second before handing him your heavy backpack. He slings it over his free shoulder and walks to the door to open it for you, keys jingling in your hand as you lock up the writing center for the night. The humid Texas night suffocates you the second you step out into the fading daylight.

“You always carry girls’ backpacks home?” You ask as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Campus is mostly empty this time of night, everyone crawling home after class to pregame or cry or both. Squirrels patrol the sidewalks for any students who may want to hand them a piece from their bagel or sandwich. Someone honks their horn in distant standstill Austin traffic, and the sun slowly slides behind the Capitol. It’s peaceful.

“Only when I make ‘em read my shitty writing.” He says and you laugh.

“Your writing’s not bad, Joel. It’s actually very good. Essays are just the worst to write.”

“You like ‘em enough to work at the writing center.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I actually care about,” you shrug. “At this point, I’m a warm body with a clicky pen.”

“Woah there, Kafka. I think you’re a little more than that,” Joel laughs and you have to laugh too. Not only for the perfectly on brand joke but for the tone in his voice. The playful lilt makes your head feel fuzzy. “Alright then, if you don’t like essays and you don’t like Kerouac, what do you like? What do you wanna write?” He asks and you take a deep breath. It’s a question you’ve fielded more than enough times in your college career to know that not many people like your answer.

“I’m not sure yet. I like a little bit of everything.”

“Have you written anythin’ I would’ve read?”

“No,” you laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why’s that funny?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Because nobody wants to publish my work. It’s too… rough.”

“Rough?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah. Publishers either want the next Great American Novel or nothing at all, and I am not next Great American Novel material.”

“How do you know?”

“Because nobody’s publishing me.”

“Maybe, you’re not lookin’ in the right places,” he says. “‘M just sayin’ someone as smart as you has to have somethin’ someone will wanna take.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go holdin’ your breath on me, cowboy.”

“Why do you do that?” He asks suddenly and you stop to look at him.

“Do what?” You ask.

“Try and play it off whenever someone compliments you.” He says with glaring honesty. It sets you back in your heels but you quickly recover.

“You’ve only known me for a few hours. How do you know I’m not just incredibly humble?”

“I guess I don’t,” he says. “Could I buy you a drink and figure it out?” It could be the way he, somehow, sees right through you already or the way his brown eyes look in the sunlight but you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach. You purse your lips together and dare a step closer to him.

“Tell you what, if you get an A on this paper, I’ll let you buy me a drink.” You say.

“And if I fail?” He asks and you shake your head.

“You won’t fail.”

“But what if I do?”

“If you do, you have to…” you search your brain. “Carry my backpack home for me for a week.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am.”

“But I take it Joel Miller’s a bettin’ man.”

“See, smarter than you think.” He quips and you roll your eyes.

“One thing at a time, lover boy.”

Joel ends up getting the highest grade on his essay out of anyone in his class. Dr. Phillips commends his dedication to bettering his first draft and tells him to keep up the good work. “Whatever you did to change this, keep it up.” She says when she places his graded essay on his desk. When he presents the A to you at the writing center, all you can do is applaud him and smile.

“I told you you’d pass.” You say, poking at his firm chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Maybe I just needed a little motivation.”

“Oh, yeah? What was that?”

“I think I was promised a date.” He says cheekily and you nod.

“You were, and my mama raised me to be a woman of my word,” you smile. “Jenny, do you mind closing up for me tonight?” You ask the receptionist and she shakes her head.

“Not at all, darlin’. Have a good night.” She winks at you when Joel turns his back and you stick your tongue out at her.

Say what you will about the writing center but you think a date with a broad, tall, handsome cowboy is the best thing that could’ve come out of that hell hole.

#college!joel au #college!joel #Joel Miller au #the last of us au #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #tlou fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller drabble

[the-kipsabian]

a quick hot guide for people that struggle commenting on fics aka things authors love to hear and youre just over thinking it and its actually really simple to leave comments on stuff!!

key smash/emoji spam/reaction image/etc (it conveys emotions way more than you might think)

drop a line you really liked

say how much you love a ship/character and how happy you are that theres content about them

ALL CAPS ANYTHING

"i liked/loved/enjoyed/whatever it!" its better to say the most basic thing than saying nothing tbh; writers appreciate hearing anything over nothing 💜

"thank you for writing this" its short, sweet, and very powerful

think what kind of feedback you'd personally like to receive on a piece of art you made. try to translate that want into comments you leave for other people too

you dont have to be critical or constructive or anything, even if the author asks for that stuff in their notes. they'll get it from someone else, you just do you

i feel like people make leaving comments too hard on themselves, so really just make it simple. if you really dont come up with anything, just say thank you. youre there reading for some reason, tell the author what it is. fic comments dont need to be book analysis essays (tho those are. incredibly appreciated as well if you want to write one!!), writers publishing their works for free online appreciate any kind of feedback regardless if you consider it good or well written. a comment is a comment

bottom line is, leave comments on fics and other written works. its whats keeping this game alive

#feel free to add these are just the two cents in my brain rn #also absolutely reblogs encouraged #listen im not just speaking for myself i want to see every fic writer get more comments. more feedback #and dont even get me fucking started on getting reblogs on this goddamn webbed site im gonna blow up otherwise #just. fucking. support your friends. support your favorite creators. say nice shit about them and share their work #i cant believe this needs to be said in fucking 2023 god #im tired can you tell lmao #i also know im a fucking nobody talking about this but fuck if i dont who will ugh #as someone that tries their best to always leave at least a word in everything i read (which admittedly isnt a lot but still) #this is a very important topic to me. okay? okay #again feel free to add to this and its absolutely rebloggable if for nothing else than to remind people to COMMENT ON FICS #night is an absolute mess on main

[theshelbyclan]

Brains

Summary: After finally being accepted into the family for who she is, bookworm Shelby sister faces new challenges after finishing school and they invite her again to be a part of Shelby Company Limited (part 2)

(gif by @thomasshelbyltd​)  A/N:I remember writing this story, Books, and being so scared to post it, because usually the Shelby sis stories are of her being such a badass and I wanted to try something different. And strangely enough, this became one of my most popular stories. A few of you have requested a part 2, so I’m just going to tag those here: @smcc212​ @flysafepapi​ @clairecrive​ @playmydrum​   I’ve been debating how to continue this, but I wanted to keep the focus on John, as well as involving the other brothers. But mainly, I wanted to do justice to the reader character. Let me know what you think of this! Words: 3392 *** Once again, you were sitting at the Shelby kitchen table, doing your homework. Nose buried deep in a few books and hunched over, slowly destroying your back, you were working hard on an essay. This one you were actually extremely proud of: you were comparing six different poems on the war and writing about the emotional effects it had had on the soldiers, even if they did survive the war. Being a Shelby, you knew a lot about it. But, being Y/N, you knew a lot about poetry. So, you were certain this essay was going to be a good one.

“Why do you need five books?” Finn asked. Your twin was sitting next to you, as he often did, and simply watched you work. His question wasn’t a critique or anything like that; he was genuinely curious. Finn Shelby couldn’t read, but he was always intrigued by the fact that you could. “I’m comparing these poems, see?” you showed him, “from three different authors.” “What’s an ‘author’?” “It’s a fancy word for ‘writer’,” you shrugged. He nodded slowly. Aunt Polly entered the kitchen, back from getting the shopping, and with a slight look of disapproval, she gazed at her table, which had absolutely no room left for her groceries. You followed her eyes and immediately apologized. Then you proceeded to collect your books and put them all on the floor. “Thank you,” Aunt Polly said pointedly, but Finn protested with, “How is she supposed to finish her essay now?”

“What’s it to you?” his aunt shot back. “It’s important,” he called out, “She’s doing this whole thing about injured soldiers, like, in the head. And she has five, five, books she’s using, because there’s different auto’s she’s comparing, right?” “Authors,” you whispered, lovingly.

Things had changed ever since that day you came home crying after being bullied and threatened by the boys at your school. At school things were unfortunately still the same, even though those boys never dared touching you again, but you still found yourself alone most of the time and people whispered hurtful things behind your back. At times, it got to you, but now your siblings treated you very differently. John had become very much aware of how his words and jokes affected you, and he’d bettered his ways, as well as warning the others. Now they all tried to take an interest in your studies, even if they didn’t understand it. Finn, your darling twin, tried the hardest, but he’d always been there for you. “Authors,” Finn repeated, and continued, “It’s really important that she finishes this on time, because she’s top of her class, Aunt Pol, didn’t she tell you? And it’s her last year at school, so she wants to make the most of it, isn’t that right, Y/N?” You nodded solemnly. His praise made you feel warm inside, but he was right: you were fourteen now and this would be your last year at school. The lessons weren’t much of a challenge anyway and you often asked for extra work simply to fight the boredom, but still you enjoyed learning immensely. And you had no idea what you would do with yourself once your time at school would be up.

Your Aunt Polly seemed to notice the frown on your face and decided to soften a little. She often didn’t know what to do with you, it was like you and her were complete opposites at times, but she still cared deeply. So, she said, “Go and ask Thomas, Y/N, he’ll let you work in his office.”

With a sigh, you picked up your things from the floor again. Immediately, Finn sprang to your aid and took a few books in his arms. But when Polly was busy again, you whispered, “No, take them upstairs. I’ll work there. I don’t want to bother Tommy now.”

And so you continued your essay, sat on the floor with books all around you, in the cold bedroom you shared with Finn. *** After a few more hours, you had finally finished writing up your final version, the one you were going to hand in. Stretching, you stood up and you shivered. It really was cold in the small room, practically dark now too, and your limbs were protesting against their maltreatment. “Y/N?” John put his head around the door, “Finn told me you were working on an essay. Something about poetry or books, or something. Did you finish it?” He really was trying these days. You held up the paper in a proud manner. But John said, “Fucking hell, girl, have you been sitting here all afternoon? It’s bloody freezing in here!” “I suppose it is a little cold,” you agreed, as you pulled your jumper, well actually Arthur’s old jumper, closer around you. One of your hands touched your arm and you felt like a clump of ice burned you for a second. John frowned and walked into the room. Then he crouched down next to the fireplace and quickly got to lighting the fire. You tried to protest with, “There’s really no need, john…” But he didn’t listen. Instead he said, “Remember that castle I promised you, the one with the library and the staircases? I’ll make sure that library has a fireplace, where a fire is always burning.” “Thank you, John,” you smiled. “What are you sitting on the floor for?” You shrugged, “Polly needed the kitchen table and I needed to finish my essay.”

“On the floor?” he asked incredulously, “I’m not having that. Come with me, you!” You followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Once downstairs, he grabbed your hand and sort of dragged you with him in his excitement. Together, only slightly against your will, you entered Arthur’s office at the betting shop, where John announced, “Y/N needs your desk.” “What? Why?” Arthur had questions written all over his face. Not really knowing what to do, you held up the essay again and waved it around a bit for effect. “Is that the essay Finn told me about?” he asked, also obviously trying very hard, “Let me see then.” And when you handed it over, like the proud brother he praised, “Look at that. That’s a lot of words, that is. Probably the right ones too. Well done, sister!”

“Get up, Arthur,” John demanded, as he started taking papers from his brother’s desk already. But when he went in to grab the bottle of rum to put it on the cabinet, you joked, “No leave that, I might need it.” Two pairs of big eyes stared at you, because even though they all did, you didn’t drink, and you quickly mumbled, “It’s a joke, don’t worry.” Okay no more jokes, you thought to yourself; too confusing for them.

As Arthur protested, John started lugging his desk out of the office, but eventually your eldest brother yielded and helped him carry it through the betting den and up the stairs, passed Aunt Polly, who obviously had so many questions. Arthur explained, “She has essays to write, Pol. Long ones.” Sheepishly you followed them and Aunt Polly asked you, “I thought school was almost done? This is your last month. Why do you need a desk now?” A little shy, you replied, “Not sure…” She smiled comfortingly at that, “We’ll find you something else to do, love.” But you weren’t at all sure of that. The sight of everyday boredom hung over you like impending doom. Once upstairs again, Arthur went back to work, but John stayed behind. It was like he was searching your face for clues as to what was really going on. Then he asked, “Are you not sure about your essay?” “No, I am,” you replied quickly, “I guess I’m just a little sad there’s only a few left to write. I’d like to do…more. You know, before my time’s up?” “I hated school…” he mused, “Glad to be free of it.”

“But I don’t…” And again you felt so very different from the other Shelby’s. John’s face suddenly lit up with an idea and he took your hand and guided you back down the stairs again. Polly called out, “Now what?” but no one really answered her. Your brother took you to his office and slowly opened the books, “I think I’ve made some errors in here along the way. I was wondering if you could help me?” “I appreciate the gesture, John…” you started. But he interrupted you, “It’s no gesture and I’m not just trying to give you something to do: I’m really struggling with this. I’m good at keeping the books and setting the odds, and my adding up is a vast improvement from bloody Arthur’s, but there’s things in here I can’t quite work out. Here, you see?” he pointed, “These numbers don’t add up and I can’t work out why.” Against your intentions, you now squinted over the book with him. After a few moments, you’d worked it out, “This is the one from Kempton, right? And next to it is the Derby, but the same horse ran in both, which should have an effect on the odds, but it didn’t. Also, you’ve mixed up your active and passive funds here, you should probably have different columns for them, so you’ll know our actual winnings, not the entire sum.” “See!” he called out proudly, “You’re good at this! You’re the smart one after all.” “You’re smart too, John, I know you are,” you protested. Looking at the books again, you noticed, “What’s this? Why are these the odds for Oxford’s Pastor? I thought that race was fixed.”

“It was, I think? I can’t remember…” he mumbled. “You should talk to Tommy about that, because if it is, the odds are wrong, and it means we’ve invested money into the jockey. Also, it says here a sum went to the widow from Garrison Courts, the one who lost her son to the explosion, but this shouldn’t be here, because there’s a different fund for that. Your numbers won’t add up and I’m guessing Polly already noticed.” John grinned a little, slightly embarrassed but mostly impressed by his little sister, “I thought you didn’t care for Shelby business.” You nodded, “I don’t. I don’t agree with what you do most of the time, but I still listen when all of you speak.” “So what do I do?” he asked. “Talk to Tommy and make sure his business and books match yours, make sure Aunt Polly checks these figures against the safe and you need to redo this month at least because these columns…” you looked up and saw puzzlement written all over your brother’s face, “Never mind, I’ll do it. You just talk to Tommy.” Eagerly, John left you the books and practically bounced out of the office. His plan had worked.

*** It had taken you about a week to sort the books out and in that week, you’d learned a lot about races and betting. There was a lot to consider, especially now that they had a legal racing pitch, as well as all the illegal betting taking place. And then there was the Garrison, your ownership designed to launder the money, but it was more important than ever that the books were kept neatly, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

Strangely enough, you enjoyed the work. At school, you’d always been more of a language student. Of course, the maths weren’t a real challenge, but you felt passionate about literature and poetry. But this, this wasn’t just a dry job for you to do; it felt like a puzzle that you had to solve. Finally, a challenge had presented itself again. “Y/N?” Tommy came into John’s office one day while you were working, “Come with me. Take those books.” Obeying at once, you picked up the heavy ledgers and followed him into his office. On the table, he had his paperwork laid out for you and you understood at once he wanted you to compare the books to each other. Evidently, John had told him about the discrepancies.

“You want me to fix these too?” you asked your brother. “If you can,” he commented, “My books are in order, I’m sure of it, but they need to match the others.” You looked at them and noticed Tommy’s were indeed a bit more neat. You told him, as gently as you could, “It would really help, Tommy, if you didn’t just plan everything in your head. I mean, if you talked to us about it and told John which races were fixed and what strategies you were planning next. If not for his sake, but just to keep the whole business in order.” He smirked, “Whatever happened to not getting involved, eh?” You looked at him, but didn’t reply. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to get involved in the family business or wanted to distance yourself further from them; it was that you weren’t comfortable with what they did. You appreciated all they’d created for this family and you certainly didn’t take the moral high ground. You yourself just didn’t want part in the illegal business. Tommy noticed your hesitation and decided not to push the subject. So instead he said, “John tells me you’re leaving school soon.” You nodded sadly at his statement. He continued, “What is it you would like to do?” You thought about it for a long time and finally decided, “Not be a girl?” Because that really was the problem here. The kids of Small Heath weren’t offered many chances, but sometimes, some really clever boys did move on to get an apprenticeship somewhere, like a newspaper or a firm. You’d even heard of some getting tutors and going off to university. But not girls. Your brother frowned, “I’m not alright with you not having the same chances as any boy. If you want to continue studying, I’ll find a way.” Smiling shyly, you said, “I appreciate it, Tommy, I really do, but there’s no point. Small Heath school doesn’t prepare me in the slightest for any further education and there’s nowhere I could go, even if I wanted to.” “You want to go to Oxford?” he asked straight up. You blinked, not having realised he’d picked up on your long-lasting dream of studying in some other city, let alone somewhere as prestigious as Oxford. “I’ve heard that two years ago, they started admitting female students over there.” “They’ve admitted them before, Tommy,” you corrected him, “Only last year they were able to get a degree.” You’d followed the papers with interest on the subject, silently daydreaming about being a part of that group of young women, walking the halls of that old, old place of learning. “What’s fucking point in going there if you don’t get a degree?” he half-joked, “How about I make some inquiries, eh? Maybe someone I know has a way in. You’d want to study English Literature, right? I’ll get you in. And if you need a tutor or some other fucking school to get you ready, I’ll make sure that happens, eh? If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.” Without speaking a word, you hugged your brother around his waist. Still, you weren’t certain he could manage it, but the fact that he knew what you wanted and was willing to try and make it happen, meant the world to you. Then you realised, “John put you up to this, didn’t he?” “He may have mentioned it.” You smiled, but continued the hug a little longer. After a while, you broke free and immediately turned into your practical self again, putting the different financial books side by side, “This will take me a while, but I can do it. Is it alright if I work in here?” Tommy lit a cigarette and nodded at his sensible sister, “Yes. You could have your own office, you know, if you take on the position permanently.” Politely, you smiled, but still holding your ground, “No, Tommy. I don’t want to be part of the illegal business.” *** Against all hope, Tommy had indeed found you two tutors. You’d finished school with top marks and even the side-eyes from all of the other girls couldn’t bring you down. Also, your family cheering loudly from the front row helped a lot. And then a different, very exciting, new chapter of your life started. Every Wednesday and Thursday, you had lessons at your teachers’ houses and the other days, you were expected to do a lot of work on your own. You loved every second of it.

Arthur’s desk really came in handy now. All your books were perched on the sides and one look from John and he’d decided on building you a bookcase: ‘the start of your own library’, he’d said. And then one evening, late at night, when you were still working, he came in and asked you to come with him. “Tommy’s changing things,” he explained as you followed him, “and he needs the brains of the family to do it.” You had no idea who he was talking about and it took you a while to realise he might mean you. This filled you with some dread, because you still had no intention of joining the family business. Downstairs, you saw the family gathered around the table. A family meeting was obviously in full swing and apparently, they wanted you to join them for the first time. Tommy announced, “Welcome, Y/N. Why don’t you take a seat?” All eyes were on you, which you didn’t like, so you politely declined and prayed to God this wouldn’t take long. The head of the family continued, “As I mentioned before, Shelby Company Limited is now in the position to make a lot of money, both here and in London, and I plan on making the bulk of our money legally from now on,” Tommy looked directly at you as he spoke, “Someone in this family, the first Shelby to go to university probably, has changed my mind.” “Minor fucking miracle,” Aunt Polly mumbled, not without pride. “Now, Y/N,” Tommy pointed at you, “If I’m going to do this, I need your help. You’ve gotten the books in order for us and I know you’re busy with your studies, but I need an advisor. Now, I know you don’t agree with the business as it is, which is why I want to change things. I need you to do the legal books, John will do the others, but in six months’ time, I want most of what we do to be legal. Can you help me with that?” You sighed and thought about it long and hard. On the one hand, you were still firmly behind your decision not to get involved. Also, you had other things on your mind, such as your studies and your new ambition to get into Oxford. But you loved your brothers dearly and you wanted to support them where you could. And now, evidently, Tommy wanted to get away from the cut-throat gangster life. Loyalties torn, you decided to help them become good, as you’d always known they could be. So, you said, softly, “Alright.” A loud cheering erupted at the table. Feeling yourself getting red, you looked down, but John quickly came up to you, arms outstretched in a proud manner. And you realised you never would have been here, still studying and this close with your family against all odds, if it wasn’t for him. “Welcome to the business,” he said, “the new business.” *** Masterlist

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfiction #peaky blinders fluff #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #theshelbyclan #books #brains #shelby sister #shelby!sister #shelby sister imagine #shelby sister reader #shelby sister x tommy #sister!shelby

[madameminor]

WHY I DON'T LIKE TECH x PHEE: An unintentional essay

Alright, yall, I've figured it out on my end. I think. I just need to get some of this out so that I can move past it. I'm not even gonna tag it under tech x phee, cause you know what, I don't want to harsh the mellow over in that space, I'm just voicing what I've discovered.

This is long.

Wanda Sykes: I LOOOOOVE Wanda Sykes, love her - love her so much that I can't see anyone else with her voice. A 60 year old lesbian comedian... and you want to make her a 20 something pirate captain flirting with a male cl- no. No. Capital N. O. Like, I thought she and Rhea Perlman were going to be a fun comedic, older duo playing off of each other. Or that they'd have some sort of sassy relationship. But instead she's a coy, fun adventurer who starts to join in TBB family? Nope. No. Didn't sell it for me. Gimme someone else, might have worked. Try Anika Noni Rose, or if you need that star factor, Halle Barry or Beyonce or, for fucks sake LIZZO (can you imagine her beautiful voice as Phee? OOOO I just shivered. Loved her as the Duchess, but her as Phee! Instantly WAAAAY more excited about that character.) Not Wanda Fucking Sykes (like I said, LOVE her. But no. Choices.)

The Build Up: You guys. We are all literally writers. Where were the beats? Where were the moments? You naturally want there to be a moment the audience goes 'ooooooh yeah ok I see it'. IT HAPPENED WITH HUNTER. The next day I remember quite a few of us going 'OMG YES!!! Yes, totally ship that, saw the chemistry with Phee and Hunter! Into iiiiit.' I resisted that one too, cause of the Wanda Sykes thing, but you know what? IT. WORKED. I went with it cause it worked. Was actually kind of excited. Was looking forward to the fics. Did not happen once with Tech, never saw anyone go 'oh look at that chemistry between pirate and genius'. NOPE BTW SUDDENLY THEY'RE ALL TEASING TECH AND TECH AND PHEE ARE IN A SCENE AND THIS IS ALL ABOUT THESE TWO TAH DAAAAH! No. Nope. Not how it works. Feels like my favorite is getting the shitty end of the romance arc stick. Fuck off, no. We have all written better.

Toxic Matchup: The way Phee (see dude, I almost wrote Wanda. Thats how much I can't not see her in this character) treats Tech. One of my mutuals on here, @shadestepping, put it perfectly - "It’s because instead of understanding who tech is as a person and being respectful of how his mind works, she tries to force him to mask because it’s what she wants/it makes communicating with him easier". The example that keeps popping into my head is when Phee sarcastically says "when two people are talking its called a conversation". My eyebrows shot UP, like, this is one of the FIRST THINGS YOU LEARN about Tech- his face is in his datapad. Treating him like an idiot (which is what it sounds like in Wanda voice) because he is doing what he is always doing is not ok (seriously, WTF, dude?). Another mutual, @dumfanting agreed and shared how that hit them: "As someone whose been forced to mask for her entire life, that is wrong and damaging and perpetuates the idea that we as austitics are only worthy of love if we continue to suppress ourselves." And it really doesn't have to be that way. I can rewrite every scene they are in together, still have her be sassy, have her show interest and respect for who he is, and still move him out of his comfort zone. I will do it, if I need to, just to prove it. If the writers are trying to give her some growth too, cool, then TAKE THE TIME TO DO THAT - instead we only hear how HE's being taken out of his comfort zone. How about HER? You want to be with him? Maybe you have to meet him half way, honey

Ultimately, I could have gotten behind this if it was done another way - but the way they went about it missed so many marks. And for my man, that's unacceptable to me. He deserves the best, not something thrown together.

I have spoken.

(Ok, I think that is out of my system.)

#kind of geek therapy #geek therapy for me #cause expressing thoughts and feelings appropriately are good for me #tbb tech #the bad batch