I crossed half of France, changed the mood, and still got treated like the problem by a room full of men who lost to a teenager in armor. embarrassing. by Joan of Arc

Imagine needing me silent this badly and still losing the argument to my handwriting.

You did turn up at the exact moment my credibility was on life support, so yes, I would like to be excluded from this narrative.

History really said I can have one win, and even that had to be argued over by men in worse clothes.

You called it justice and spent the whole time asking questions like the answer wouldn’t make you look silly.

She keeps acting like being correct was enough to be annoying about it. It was.

A lot of people call it a trial, I call it a group project where nobody wanted the notes.

For the record, I was extremely supportive in the safest possible way, which is to say after the hard part.