#i cannot believe i was ever friends with people who would call me lazy for not wanting to work out with them while they knew Damn Well

[werdlewrites]

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

summary: warnings: Mentions of abuse, drug use. wc: 2,840

The sun was beginning to set by the time the pair arrived at the trailer park. Heather would cast a glance towards the girl in the driver's seat, anticipating a look of judgment but nothing ever comes. Autumn merely squints and presses herself forward for a better view through the night. The tall lights flickering and providing little to no help through the shadows. She seeks guidance from the passenger, who directs her along the path until they arrive at their destination. At the rear end of the Jeep, Heather pulls her bike from the trunk and wheels it up to the porch, where it lays without chains.

“Welcome to the Hunter abode,” she speaks in a drawl, keys jingling in her free hand as she fumbles with the lock. She mumbles in annoyance. Confessing the key always manages to get stuck, so she has to wiggle it around until there’s a seamless fit. There’s almost a relieved sigh as all falls open - welcoming the two girls into the cozy, dimly lit home. Wood paneling hides behind framed photos and patterned curtains, the light from the television flickering across every surface. It holds a familiar feeling; like a home. Old cigarette smoke pouring out from the fabric, the smell of fried food working hard to disguise it.

“Give me a second, okay? I’ve got t’get this t’my mom.” The other girl gestures down to the brown paper bag, grease darkening a few scattered spots at the bottom. In a matter of seconds, she’s gone. Moving into the small kitchen and down the empty hallway, calling out for her mother who replies in delight at her daughter's return. Their conversation is buried between the walls that separate them—incoherent words paired with a few sudden fits of laughter.

Jealousy stares back at Autumn through reflections in the glass. An ugly thing that mocks and stews in misery. It points a finger and reminds you of what you no longer have, and if it would ever be that way again. She finds herself loosely trailing after her friend, lazy steps carrying her towards the canary yellow fridge decorated in magnets and polaroids. Some hold people she cannot recognize.

Grandparents, unknown family members, or strangers as they linger in the background. Others are all too familiar. A group of boys with wild outfits and wide smiles, or the many versions of Heather as she grew into who she was today. Pictures of her and what she believes to be her mother out at the beach, bucket and shovels in hand. Pictures of Christmas morning and Halloween night, or something a little more recent as they stand in front of a moving truck.

That jealousy begins to simmer out into nothing. Its haunting face is now stoic without harmful words spewed. It drinks in the unknown world of Heather Hunter, finding similarity in ways no one should. Heather is almost breathless when she reappears, face red from smiling for too long, not once faltering as she finds the girl's focus locked on a particular picture. “I know what you’re thinking,” she begins, finally catching Autumn’s attention. “What went wrong?”

The girl snorts, shaking her head in disagreement. It’s nowhere near close - but the thought brings a feeling of guilt. Yet still, it falls off of her tongue. “Has it always been you and your mom?”

She’s hardly phased, blowing a raspberry at first as her body shifts. It had become clear Autumn wasn’t the first to ask. “Nah. Dad’s out there, somewhere. Doin’ what he does best. Being an absolute piece of shit.” Her arms are crossed, her side resting just against the chilled surface as she waits in anticipation for a response. But her friend is left speechless, lips parted as if wanting to speak but unsure of what to say. Heather opts to fill the emptiness. “Mom and I had t’leave him. It just wasn’t safe.”

It’s all so casual. She even spares the shrug of a shoulder as if she hadn’t spent years of her life in physical and mental anguish. As if he never bruised her skin or broke glass at her mother's feet. Jealousy had shifted into something sorrowful. Reaching out to console another wounded bird, though she hardly seems unable to fly. She stands tall with wings at the ready, taking flight off into the freedom she had fought hard for. No more bars to cage in something once delicate, now a force to be reckoned with.

Something in the distance steals away their attention, eyes shifting to the concealed window as heavy equipment moves past, gears squeaking and pipes rattling from within. Autumn chances a look as she leans across the sink, prying back the short curtain to watch as a two-toned van comes to a stop not far from them. A dark figure nearly stumbles out, his silhouette recognizable even now. “Is that Eddie?”

The other leans in just at the girl’s side, eyes narrowed to peel back the darkness. Soon, a smile is etched into place. “Sure is.”

“That’s convenient. Being neighbors with your best friend?”

She shrugs, not seeing the importance of her words. “S’how we met. Want t’go say hi?” Autumn can barely register the thought, let alone reply before she’s dragged back the way she came. Heather shouting out to her mom that she would be at “Munson’s.” Along the way, Heather is suddenly struck by an idea as a few lights come to life from within his home. She instructs Autumn to crouch and follow her lead, creeping along the path until they can hear his music bouncing off of the walls. The pair move along the siding, looking all too suspicious. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of neighbors watching as two shadows stalk around his home, phone at the ready to call for police.

“What are we-?” The question is silenced as a hand cups her mouth, a single finger held midair to keep her from speaking.

Slowly, their skin parts and she watches in continued silence as Heather slowly stands before a closed window, the glow from within illuminating a look of pure joy. Without warning, her palm slams against the glass, immediately forcing out a shriek of fear from the boy. “Bitch!” he calls out from within, angered steps carrying him towards the window. “Let us in!” Heather cries out, still wearing a smile of pride.

“Us?” The curtains are pulled back and the window latch is flicked, ring-clad fingers gripping at the edge as he leans out for a better view. “Who is-? Oh,” he pauses, barely taking in the sight of a familiar girl at Heather’s side. “Hey, Reid.”

Heather doesn’t waste another second. Hardly letting Autumn return the gesture as she boldly states, “Put your porn away and open the door. We’ve got a situation.”

A small smile of amusement is seen in the shadows, yet a look of confusion in his eyes as he wasn’t entirely trusting of her words. “Yeah? What kind of situation?”

The bright eyes of Heather look back to the girl, a smile to suggest secrets on her lips. Autumn does nothing but cross her arms in wait, unsure of what was happening. “We’re in desperate need of some fun.”

His fingers tap against the siding, biting at his lower lip to resist mimicking her joyous expression. But he stands back, arms held out in good faith. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Eddie soon hurries off once the window is shut, his frantic steps heard echoing as he races for the front door. Without a word, the two girls follow after, waiting another moment beneath the porch light. Though the time was short, it was enough to tug on Heather’s interest as she spared a curious look at Autumn in suspicion.

The door is swung back, fingers hastily combing through his mess of hair with rings threatening to tangle in the strands. Once settled, his arm is outstretched as an invite, a mocking bow in his posture. “Ladies,” he says dramatically, waiting until they both settle into the warmth of his home. It’s a stark contrast to the Hunter’s. All beige and brown. The only color coming from a collection of mugs and caps from around the world.

“Were you actually hiding your porn?”

He tuts in disapproval, his finger waving in the air. “A gentleman never tells.”

But the girl knows better, turning to face her friend to confess the boy’s secrets. “He’s got about five magazines under th-”

“That’s enough!” Eddie cries out, a large hand moving to clamp over her face. He tucks her back against his chest, now dragging her through the small home and down the hall. All protests are muffled as she stumbles along the way. “C’mon, Reid.” He calls out. “The fun is this way.”

She doesn’t follow in their steps upon his command. She instead lingers, arms tight around her torso as she considers what the fuck she’s agreed to. With a steady intake of breath, she braces for what's to come. She’s in it now, and it would be even more painful to make an excuse and bail. So, with one forced step after another, she inches closer to his bedroom, where Heather cries out in disgust. “Your hand tastes like ass!”

There’s a brief pause between the two. “You know what ass tastes like? Ow!” The punch to his arm is hard enough to hear. A muted ‘thud’ followed by clumsy feet as he works to catch himself. The room is exactly what she imagines, matching his personality, or at least what she knows of it. Posters of familiar bands hang up on the walls, his guitar resting up against the dresser that's cluttered with everyday items. It's careless and free, just like him.

He rubs at the unseen injury, a look of agony on his face until he finds Autumn standing in the doorway. The flip seems to switch, then. A bright smile to light up the room as he gestures out to the small space. “Make yourself at home.” Heather is already making herself comfortable, the desk chair pulled out with legs kicked up onto the mattress. She can see the hesitation in the other, giving a kind smile and nod towards the bed. Autumn does as suggested - first just at the edge out of uncertainty. With further encouragement in the silence, she pulls her legs up to cross over one another, finding easy comfort.

Eddie keeps his back to them, mumbling to himself as he digs through the top drawer. She can hear the crinkle of plastic, his deep eyes studying the contents with care before dropping it all back into the depths. Once he finds what he’s looking for, he turns with a victorious cry. “Ah-ha!” The bag contains numerous, rolled joints. Tape across the surface marked with a date and a specific plant name. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Fuck yes it is,” Heather replies with a grunt, her body now stretched out to rip the contents from his grip. She pauses once the seam is torn open, eyes cautiously looking back to Autumn who has remained mostly silent. “Unless you don’t want to? We can have sober fun.”

She’s not left in the silence for long. The girl before her is already painfully aware of the ache in her ribcage. A heart turning to heavy stone before it shatters to rubble, unable to withstand the pressure life adds upon it. “I think it’s exactly what I need.” It’s all either two need as they settle down, smoke soon filling the air with every exhale. It’s all casual talk in the beginning, waiting for the high to creep in like a growing shadow. Eddie mentions Dungeons and Dragons, looking at Autumn expectantly from his place on the carpeted floor, body stretched out and relaxed.

“Oh, no, no-” She says in panic, waving away the cloud that spills from her lips. “I’ve got t’much going on t’be playing that.”

The boy’s head falls back in a fit of laughter, his linked feet swaying from side to side in pure bliss. “You say it with such disgust.”

The joint is passed across the way to an eagerly awaiting Heather, a smile on her lips as she watches her two friends dive deeper into a genuine friendship. “It’s not disgust.” Autumn corrects. “Doesn’t that game last, what? Months?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, a subtle shrug seen as a shit-eating grin grows. “Or like, years.”

“Years?” she practically shouts, eyes wide with disbelief. Eddie’s form is slowly becoming hazy. The colors around him slowly melting into one another, creating an abstract painting before her eyes. “You’re nuts.”

“Best way t’be.” He retorts. The boy follows after the lit embers, a moth to a flame. His torso is sagged forward, heavy as he carries the universe's weight on his shoulders. The inhale of his chest moves in near slow motion, a stupid look on his face as he surrenders to nature's beauty. Giving himself over to whatever she desired.

The room becomes a chaotic storm. Wild conversations and shouts of delight rebound off of the covered walls. Snacks spilling out onto the floor as heated debates began, with pointed fingers yet joy in their eyes. Laughter was always just around the corner. Even through the swarm of madness, and violent winds ripping the world away - it’s hard to miss the way he gravitates to her. An anchor to keep him steady as the eye of a hurricane tears through his sanctuary. Deep brown eyes linger on her when she’s not paying attention, and hers do the same. It’s painfully obvious even through the fog that threatens to blind them all. Autumn wonders if they even know what’s happening between them.

“Fuck.” Heather suddenly blurts out as an idea strikes her like a bolt of lightning. “D’you bring your cards?”

Autumn shakes her head, an effortless laugh rumbling within her chest. “It’s at home.” It’s the first time in a while that the word doesn’t carry a feeling of sorrow and longing. A feeling of emptiness as she wanders through life without a clear path.

“I wanted you t’scare him again.” His eyes roll dramatically, thinking back to the time he spent cowering away from the girl once she depicted his past and future. All written throughout his flesh.

“That’s not hard.” Autumn retorts, watching the way his focus snaps back at her, clearly offended while the girl at his side wears a look of pride.

“I think she just called you a ‘pussy.’”

A narrowed look aims in her direction, a feigned look of anger and a scowl on his lips. “You’re honestly a terrible friend.”

“I could read palms again. Things can always change.” She offers with a small shrug, watching as their eyes light up with excitement. But they never get that far. Heather had scrambled her way across the small space between them to sit at her friend's side, asking for a demonstration on reading palms and what it all means. She holds her hand out to Autumn, and with a delicate touch, she points to every curve and loop of chains. Heather can barely focus, eyes squinting as she pulls her skin closer, not truly seeing what the other could but playing along out of fascination.

Then, the confidence kicks in. She’s slipped from the bed and down onto the floor, where Eddie waits in silence. Heather is muttering to herself, studying both of his hands before taking favor of his left palm. Given the encouragement she needs, she studies through the haze of her high. At first, the action renders the boy pink in the cheeks. Wide eyes flickering elsewhere to ignore the embarrassment of such an intimate moment put on display. She doesn’t notice, but Autumn does.

Heather’s thumbs push and pull at the skin, looking for something that sparks with light in her mind. Then, a trembling smile comes to the surface, holding secrets hostage as she begins to speak. “I see something.” The pair share a look of wonder, though the girl on the bed remains a little more disbelieving, but doesn’t stomp out his fire as he leans forward with intrigue.

“What? What is it?” She has to bite back her smile before forcing it all to fall flat, keeping on the mask for the sake of the game.

“I see,” Cheeks hollow and without warning, she spits into the dip of his palm. A look of pure horror dances across his expression while she continues to bask in her success. “A pool.”

The metalhead is nearly frozen in place, staring down at the dampened spot in his hand in shock. When she begins to snicker, it's then that he retaliates. The hand is ripped away from her grasp to then smooth its way across her face, nearly tackling the girl as she tries to fend him off. “It's your spit! Take it back, you nasty freak!”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things ff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington ff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x ofc #steve harrington x original female character #steve harrington angst #steve harrington slow burn #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own

[ray-just-ray-thanks]

Part 2 - Queerbaiting Discourse in the Good Omens Fandom

Master post here

Why do I hate so much when people call Good Omens queerbaiting? How I understand the sentiment (again context matters), but also don't agree with it.

First Better essays than I ever will be able to do:

Good Omens: An Exploration of Internalized Acephobia (@ashs-slut-hut)

The beautiful of the unlabelled things (@solreefs)

I read many interpretations of this discourse, many are angry at Neil Gaiman because he doesn't draw a line whatever Aziraphale and Crowley relationship is romantic or not. His most famous response is: "Wait and see."

See he already answered:

This is his answer. Critical thinking is free. If you ask something in this regard, he has already answered. That's final and you are not entitled of more than this, he's the author, it's not a romance novel, he cannot change the source material because it would be violate the work of Sir Terry Pratchett and his memory. I would hate if he changed anything, I would hate him to make them conventionally gay in the human sense.

It's a love story, no they aren't gay in the sense of the word. Just like that.

Since the first time I read the book, I knew they love each other.

There are many types of love and Good Omens, because its ambiguity, open the access to interpret their love in every way possible. Romantic or Platonic or even sexual (even if I don't really like the interpretation, it's there, if Aziraphale and Crowley can do an afford so can I). It's a book and a Serie TV for everyone.

I don't have problem with people saying they see them as best friends, I have example in my life of old people that treat their oldest pal as if they were married for several years. As an asexual and aromantic I say we need also more healthy platonic friendship same sexes and non in fandom spaces.

As in context otherwise I understand that the penury of queer and LGBT+ content makes really difficult to let go of queer characters.

Because I believe Aziraphale and Crowley are intrinsically queer, in every way you want to see, they are marginalized people of their respective factions, they are una ostracize by their peers and they need to lie to appear "normal" to them, masking and putting up a façade anytime they need to be in public meeting. Their peers don't understand how and why they want to live like that, not understanding they are like that, they are just different. Not bad, not good, just different.

They feel love (whatever type you headcanon they to feel), both of them and cannot express it in public because it's not the right kind of love.

Aziraphale loves sushi, loves his books and loves his life with Crowley, but it's not proper for him he should just love as general concept. He’s soft, the way he’s presenting is not proper for an Angel.

Crowley cannot love. He's a demon, he cannot love anything if not chaos and bad things, but he loves his car, he loves his plants and the life he built with Aziraphale.

Both of them don't feel the right love, the appropriate type, what their society want them to feel or respect the way they should presenting.

This is intrinsically a queer experience, I felt nearly any of this thing in my life, from relatives, friends and even strangers. This is why I hate when the debate is reduced to "they don't kiss, they don't fuck".

Also, they are not human and don't have biological sexes, they are presenting as males, but in a canonically way Crowley presented as female and she was still Crowley, nothing has change if not the way of presenting themselves. That's queer as fuck.

[Or not, since you could argue that they are not human in first place, but the translation of their actions are still what we human would call a queer fight to me.]

On a personal note, to me, even Aziraphale who doesn't change anything (even his sex) because he's a lazy bastard is still queer behaviour.

When people have the impression that he's English, that he's intelligent, and that he's gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide, after in the book was said that they're genderless and they only make an afford sometimes, makes the punch line the humans who don't understand jackshit, but still judge his character by the way he's presenting, while Aziraphale, the lazy fuck, doesn't give a shit how he's presenting (he did not change his style since Victorian age, because it's comfy and he think tartan is the peak of stylish, tell me that he care what others think, except, maybe, Crowley, but even him has no saying in how he can or cannot present).

I would say Aziraphale doesn't care about humans in general and he would be fine with them disappearing, but don't want them to do so, because otherwise he wouldn't have books and food anymore. But enough of this, I'm going even more off target than I'm already am.

So, I understand the sentiment of wanting something more, the need of more LGBT+ characters and stories, but this is not it. This is not a story you can change and harass the author to make it more yours, because it's not.

The story is for us, not ours. Every story is made for someone, but it's not owned by anyone else if not the author(s). It's not your story to tell. I can see the story as queer, I love the interpretation of the story as queer, Neil Gaiman gave us the green light, do what you want with your interpretation! But at the end of the day, it's an interpretation.

The queerbaiting discourse miss the point of the story. Just because it's not the flavour of queer you wanted it to be, it doesn't mean it's not queer or cannot be interpreted as such. My, yours, everybody else interpretation is valid and can coexist, because it's a love story and everybody can express love and feel love in many ways.

Therefore, I can say it's queer, another person can say it's just friendship and another again can say it's clearly LGBT+. It's an open interpretation of the word "Love".

Queerbaiting is not contemplated. It was not market as queer (even if the very linguistic old fashioned term as strange, unusual or unexpected, would have been quite correct marketing for this work of art.)

The author delivered what promised. A story, a comedy, two entities more human than not, who love each other very dearly and the Apocalypse. From my knowledge it is not queerbaiting.

Again, I understand the sentiment, but you need to search for a better target, because right now you're just biting in the air, getting frustrated because there is nothing to bite, it's just...air.

Part One

Part two(You're here)

Part three

Master post

#Good Omens #Discourse #Queerbaiting #Headcanon and interpretation #Open interpretation my beloved #Asexual #Aromantic #Aspec #Queer #LGBT+ #Aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #trans pride #non binary #<- Not my place to discuss but I see you and I love you

[pokeheros-drama]

After some deliberation I will go ahead and put into light a few reasons. I will not go into detail about certain things. This is both for my own sake, and because I respect Monarch’s privacy.

For background, I’m Lyney, obviously. I met Monarch/Shepherd over a year ago on a RP called Loosing it All. If you’ve been on the forums in the past year, you probably got annoyed by us being most active for literal months straight. I was one of the first to join, and Monarch joined later than I did, but considering she joined around page 70, on our 1k+ pages, she can be considered an OG. I forget why, like 100% I don’t know why, but somehow the joke was that we were married. One thing led to another, then BAM. We were dating.

First thing that I did wrong was agreeing to date her not as a joke. Im not good at relationships, and I thought that what I felt was romance.

For anyone, regardless of age on here, DO NOT do what I did. Online dating is never the best option. Here are the reasons, in hindsight, that should have cued me in before I snapped.

Personal information. If you ever find yourself in a situation when you are being pressured to reveal any sort of information, including name, state, town, et.c. DO NOT REVEAL. You cannot tell true intentions over the internet.

What happened was she knew what state I lived in. After some joking around in the group palpad and/or over discord call, she knew what town I lived in. I had talked about a place I volunteered at. I said how far away I lived from school timing wise. I talked about the classes I took. Through this information, she found out what school I went to. With this information, as well as a few one off photos I sent of my yard, she also was trying to find my home address.

2. Venting. Set boundaries for yourself. Do not let people treat you like a therapist.

I shouldn’t have to explain this more than I have to. She would go into my DMs regardless of the time to vent. Including during my class time. I always answered because I was scared of what she would do.

3. Clingy. If you have a friend who makes you feel like you must talk to them 24/7 or they’ll be upset, think of WHY that is.

I couldn’t take breaks without her asking if I was okay. If I wanted a day to relax and not do much, I would get DMs asking if I was okay because I wasnt as active. This is iffy in general, but bad combined with the next one.

4. Distant. You should not be the only person reaching out in any sort of relationship.

In the begining of LIA Monarch and I were practically inseparable, as we did like. EVERYTHING. Together. I was hook, line, and sucker. Later, we stopped talking as much. Or well, she did. For what felt like ages, most of our conversations were just “I love you”’s, “<3” or “kiss”, interspersed with TikTok’s I mostly sent. Even though we were “co owners” (AKA because of how close she was I let her be a co owner. But in all rights, the LIA series belongs to me, as the OG owner had passed on everything to ME.), I can safely say that I did not know about 90% of the plot line she wanted to use, despite me asking. I could also not post for upwards of 2 weeks without any sort of acknowledgement (despite one of our rules being if you’re inactive for a week without our knowledge we can ignore you basically)

5: self centered. This should be obvious. Dont have any sort of long term relationship if the person will ONLY focus on themselves.

This is a petty example, but whenever we did rp scenes, she’d always forget what we agreed to do, especially on our discord rps. We. Had it written down, but she’d always change key events.

Im too lazy to categorize so

Create an environment where I’ll get irrationally angry at the others in our group (Im really sorry again)

discussed marriage (we were both 17 at the time)

extremely different views on our future

made me believe if I ever broke up with her we would never be friends again

I left some things out. But thats a pretty… comprehensible list I think.

Before anyone comes at me, I did bring a lot of this upon myself by not following basic internet safety rules.

However, I am doing much better now. There was a weight lifted off of my shoulders

yeah um. Theres more but Imtired now and thats enough for yall

.

[maeve-is-annoying-about-books]

I'm just starting to bite into a new story but... It's a lazy, breezy day here. It reminds me very much of how I used to pass afternoons like this, playing with little collectibles and watching Hobby Shounen. I still have a bit of a guilty pleasure for it, sometimes I'll look through old trading cards and imagine little stories about who would have such a deck. Or lose time playing Custom Robo. So I wanna talk about my passion in passing a bit.

Hobby Shounen. I don't think anyone but me uses the term but I'm pretty sure everyone knows it. It's Yu-Gi-Oh. It's ostensibly Pokemon, definitely early Digimon. It's Battle Network and the aforementioned Custom Robo. Also LBX if you're particularly after little fighting robots. We also know the ridiculous conceit where it seems like the entire world is built around this strange children's hobby and no one bats an eye at it.

It's a very pure sort of world, I guess a part of me still appreciates it all. After all, what is more innocent than a child who believes they can change the world with their favorite toy? It's a little delightful like, of course the bad guys run away when you beat up their little toys. That's how the world works for the wee ones. It's a setting where their most beloved hobby is respected and their practice pays off with real standing and mutual respect with their peers.

I guess what I'm saying is that I don't really see Hobby Shounen as a soulless way to sell to children, not when it expends so much effort making the kinds of worlds many kids dream of. I mean, yes, above the writers is a soulless, capitalistic mega-giant that pumps out figures and grabs up money everywhere it can. And sells the accessories separately, of course. But when you look at the writing itself it's almost against the entire institution. Take my hand, lemme show you what I mean.

In Hobby Shounen, the main character usually isn't well-off, all of their love for... (I don't know, "Tiny Fighters" to make up a name for an example series) is in how it brings people together or the skill of the pilots. Their Tiny Fighter is usually special, customized or made by a loving parent who enjoys their child's pastime as much as they do. It's the exact opposite of the mass-marketed best models. It's special, personal. In fact, there is usually a rich kid somewhere in the series who will pontificate endlessly about the power of money. And they never win, not for long anyway. Their Tiny Fighters are good but their own love of the game is rotted through. Seems like you would want the rich kid to be an almost-insurmountable threat you can only overcome with the latest hot piece of gear.

Inevitably, I guess this wins out. The hero's Tiny Fighter must evolve and look ever-cooler. The soulless puppeteers from on-high demand it, but contextualized in the story, the best Hobby Shounen use new forms as signs of development. Their old Tiny Fighter is destroyed and they must rebuild from the ground up and it serves as a metaphor for winning back their own fighting spirit to try again. Cross-techniques with friends and rivals are common because it shows how much these fellow hobbyists mean to one another. And I'm just a sucker for it.

I think, by-and-large, I just enjoy my visits away from... how would you call it? The more adult stories, I suppose. I get a ton of enjoyment out of them, just look at my livereads where I literally cannot help but gush about what I've read. But every so often I think I appreciate something so... genuinely and unapologetically silly. Like yeah, sure, let's save the world with our toy robot for an afternoon. Sometimes I forget how to and need a reminder.

#hobby shounen #this is really just me blabbing into the void

[quintential]

The Things That Weigh Me Down.

I like strong words. Powerful, dramatic words. My current favorite is “haunt”. Everything seems to haunt me. Memories, mostly. I use “haunt” and not “hound”- even though I do quite like that one- because I am not running. I am an old, haunted house. Falling down in disrepair, no longer beautiful and mystical like some old houses tend to be, but disgusting, putrid, rank. Cold. As if the next strong breeze would knock it over, and there are several dead things inside. It’s a place of disease. All know to avoid it, the bugs, the rodents, the humans. It’s awfully quiet inside. It makes your heart pound wildly in fear and your chest grow tight, because you’ve been holding your breath without quite realizing it. 

No, this is no place for the living. But the dead- oh, they like this place. They fade in and out of the walls at will, never straying too far. They whisp this way and that, most active on cold, moonless nights. And they get angry. Oh, they are mad, spitting, furious, venom filled beings of hatred. You see, Ghosts are not supposed to exist, in a perfect world. All the dead that have made peace move on, to far away places we cannot see, or hear. Yes, they are far gone, maybe in Heaven, who knows. But these ghosts, in my house, do not leave. They must make their rage known. At random, they go still. Very still. This is when I sense them, in me. They know when I see them. And then they slash around my house. I can feel their anger, it makes them solid, they tear about, tearing wallpaper, breaking glasses, splintering my banisters or floorboards, banging my pots and pans so ever loudly. All I can do is watch as they ruin me, again and again and again.

I suppose its not fair to be biased here. These ghosts are here for a reason. They are the souls of those I’ve wronged. I don’t know what to do with them. I cannot fix them. If I try and talk to them, it is selfish because saying I’m sorry is not enough, and it doesn’t come from a place of goodness- it comes from being selfish, and not wanting these ghosts weighing down my ego, my baseboards, my walls. And yet, they debiitate me.

So for my own good, I will talk to my own ghosts here.

Clara, I’m so sorry. You were so good, and nice, and right. It was my own flaut I was so awful to you. You were too close to me, all the time, and I didn’t know how to ask for space. We were both desperate, and new, and unsure of ourselves in all too similar ways. The difference was, I was better at faking it, and you weren’t cruel. I lashed out and did hateful things, and humiliated you and hurt you. I have to take full responsibility, Clara. And I know that I sealed my fate when I went and abandoned you, when I could have stayed if not for being weak, and afraid, and taking the easy way out. I could make a million excuses, but the truth is, I left because I was scared. I was scared of making mistakes and not having anyone I could count on, because I’m like that I think people are my enemies even when they’re not, and I don’t trust anyone, really, and the people I do let myself love I always think they’re going to die and leave me or just plain leave me or not like me enough. I’ve turned this into something about me, haven’t I. Oh well, I suppose it is. Well, I’m also sorry for being lazy and leaving you with my messes to clean up and for not being a good ebough friend and even though I resented you, being lonely enough to try and string you along for a friendship of texting and calling because I needed someone, not because I liked you. It’s for the best you stopped responding. I hope you’re doing well, Clara, I really do. Find good people who care about you, there’s so much good inside of you.

E- I’m not really sorry, because I don’t like you as a person. I’m just sorry I got caught on the wrong side of things, and I’m so mad that I prove to myself again and again that I can’t stand up to things I believe are wrong if I am confronted with them. I should have told him off, he was wrong and hurtful and so, so, offensive, and I hate myself for that. I think I hate myself more for being friends with him and that group for so long, even though I didn’t like any of them and I just wanted to be included. I hate myself even more for texting you drunk that I was sorry. And more so for reading your response, and blocking you because it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. And even more so, if possible, that I saw you at that restaurant and you saw me and I hate the way you made me feel about myself.

V- I wanted you to like me, so, so, badly and I don’t know why. Well, maybe I do- you were so sure of yourself and intimidating and you knew the right way, and I went to your dorm for that “kickback” alone even though it was Clara you invited, and drank a lot and made a fool out of myself, and everyone thought I said a slur even though I didn’t, it was just such a terrible awful coincedence that what I said sounded so much like one- And then I texted you, apologizing, and you never responded- Actually, this is just really an embarassing regret I have. I just hate the way you made me feel about myself. Wow, this really is a common theme, huh?

Maile- I think I’m the sorriest of all here, we have the messiest and longest history of everyone I’m sorry about. I’m sorry we had that fight. It was my fault, after all. You were just trying to set boundaries. And I got hurt. And then I got more hurt, when I said you were my best friend but you told me I wasn’t yours. And I lashed out. And tried to hurt you, and you’re sensetive just like me and I should have been more careful, and I really really hurt you and what I said was awful. You are not a burden, you are not your problems, andd I hate how we were never the same, after that. Furthermore,  I’m sorry for how manipulative I was- am. You have trouble texting back in general, nothing to do with me, and I really tried my hardest to make you guilty enough to respond. Our whole friendship, I made you hurt just because I was weak and relied on you too much and took too much and I was insecure, and- Well, I’m just sorry, really. It was for the best I told you we shouldn’t talk anymore. It really doesn’t have that much to do with the cocaine thing. Mostly, I knew it was unhealthy. Maybe I could have texted it out better. Regardless, I am sorry. I hope you find your peace. I really don’t mean for this to sound condescending. If anything, this is the most sincere I’ve been in a while.

I have to remind myself not to send these. Because it would hurt more. I need to let these things go. I cannot make them worse.

The worst thing about me is that I can’t blame alcohol on my mistakes, or any drugs. It’s all me. It’s always all me. How do I repent now? (Repent is another favorite).

I wish I could bulldoze my house to the ground.

[edgy-sim]

Dear Mom

I truly believe you hate me subconsciously and can’t help it. I believe that you can’t help but be annoyed every time I breathe. I’d like to think its a teen mom sort of situation but I’ve done nothing but listen to you my entire childhood. And you’ve abused me and broken me physically and mentally. You’ve called me fat, ugly and dumb. You’ve beaten me down till my body hurt, I begged you to stop. You’ve beaten me naked at 16, you’ve given me panic attacks, you’ve given me countless psychological issues. Eating Disorder. pessimism, nihilism, self sabotaging behaviour, my firm belief that I truly cannot be loved and don’t deserve it. I believe it, I have turned into the worst version of myself, and yet again I have no one to help me out except me. I have no one I truly love except myself. I won’t blame you for everything, some of it was my fault. But you, truly are a bad mother, you’re pathetic, not self aware, and abusive. You were never meant to be a mother and should’ve never had kids, especially not a girl. Your internalised misogyny really shows and all your “freedom” that you give is just masked laziness. No amount of food, money and “freedom” will make up for the love I never had. I feel nothing for you, you don’t feel like a mother ever since he died, you feel like a toxic bully who’s my friend and has too much authority for someone so dumb. You make me feel like an ugly ogre. I swear to god, one day I’ll have so much, I’d have just people i like around me, I won’t have you, I won’t talk to you, and it’ll all be my work, all credit would be mine, because you did nothing except make it hard, you made fun of my tears and you single handedly would be the reason I’ll spend thousands of dollars on therapy. The thousands of dollars I’ll have, all on my own, the money I spend will be my dad’s and mine. I’ll be healthy physically and mentally when I get away from you. The only thing that’s stopping me is you being a horrible fucking mother, but its okay. Just wait and watch, I’ll show you. I’ll do it all my for 9 year old self who had no one to protect her when you beat her naked and choked her till she almost died. 

[simpforgojosatoru]

ALL-NIGHTER (One-Shot) - Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you are a successful, hot-shot lawyer, both of you are incredibly good at what you do in your respective jobs, that you often have to pull some overtime. Tonight however, it happens to be your boyfriend who’s free, so he pays you a visit to your office.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f! Reader/Reader-insert

Rating: NSFW

Waking up, you turn and smile as soon as you saw the sleeping face of your dear Satoru. You ran a hand softly through his hair, you lean in to give him a soft peak, and then back away, only to have him chase after you with lips pouting and eyes still shut, whining like a puppy, asking for more kisses. You laugh, and lean back in, and continue kissing him, as he encloses you into a tight embrace.

“Good morning, baby,” you greet with a smile.

Now under him, Satoru smiled down at you, and kissed you lovingly. “Good morning, baby girl.”

You hold his face as you look up at him lovingly, “We both have to get up for work soon.”

Satoru whined, “I don’t wanna gooooo…”

You chuckled, “I know, but you do have students to teach, Teach.”

Satoru rolled his eyes, and groaned, “Yes, yes, fine, I’m getting up…”

You laughed, “Come on, lazy boy.”

“Do you think you will be over-timing today?” Satoru asked.

“I can ask you the same question,” you replied with a wry smile.

Satoru turned on his innocent look with a pout, “Can you blame me, baby? I’m, after all, the strongest; I am always expected to be on-call.”

“Yeah, yeah, Sato,” you laugh, as you get dressed for work.

“But I really do hope I won’t have to pull overtime,” you say. “I hate overtime.”

He came up behind you and wrapped you in a reverse hug, and his lips dove down to your neck, fluttering you with melting kisses, while your head roll back, back arched, enjoying his lovemaking to your neck.

Satoru hummed, “How about we text each other…? I will update you if I will be home late.”

You smile, “Okay.”

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

Work at the law firm today turned out to be very hectic; phone calls, meetings, and urgent cases popping up for some of the highest-paying clients, you and your colleagues didn’t get to get out for lunch hour, and you eventually had to order takeaways. Of course, you also kept in contact with your boyfriend, texting back and forth, during which you gave him prior warning that, you may indeed have to stay overtime tonight.

“Aw…that sucks! ”Satoru had texted back.

“How about you? What’s your likelihood of overtime for tonight?”you text back.

“Still possible… We can’t see each other tonight…really, really sucks!”

Both yours and Satoru’s hearts sank, even though you both understand each other’s work, you hate being away from each other. Though, right now, there’s nothing else you can do, but focus on work.

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

*Time skip*

It’s the evening now, you are still at the law firm, sitting in your own office along with your close friend and colleague-Mayumi, going through the piles and piles of legal documents, both sighing now and then, having a last-minute case which popped up involving one of the more important clients for the law firm.

“I know there is somewhere else you’d rather be,” Mayumi stated sympathetically. “I’m sorry you are stuck here instead.”

You sigh dejectedly and roll your eyes, “Won’t make much of a difference, looks like Satoru is pulling overtime too.”

“He’s pulling overtime too?” Mayumi queried.

You sigh, “Well, he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer; he’s needed pretty much almost always.”

Mayumi smiled in awe, “Though I must say, I’m really impressed; you are both extremely busy people, yet you are still working very hard with your relationship and still going strong as ever.”

You smile casually, “It’s all about mutual understanding and compromise.”

You look at her seriously, “But I believe you also have a thing for a certain jujutsu sorcerer, my boyfriend’s colleague, don’t you?”

“Whatever do you mean by that?” Mayumi asked.

“Cut the crap, Mayumi, I know you like Nanami,” you reply.

She swallowed; she was not going to argue, considering you know her so well. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, it is to me, but I don’t know about the others.”

“Listen, I won’t do anything, it’s clearly unrequited, I know that, but I am still in the process of getting over him.”

You smile sadly at her, “How long do you think it’s going to take you?”

Just as Mayumi was about to answer, someone rang the office bell, you look to each other in puzzlement and confusion.

“We are the only ones in the office right now, right?” you ask.

Mayumi nodded, “Yeah, who else would be here at this hour?”

You both get up and go out to the main front doors of the law firm, to find the one and only Gojo Satoru standing right there, holding a couple of paper bags, grinning and waving at you two. Both gobsmacked, you quickly open the door for him, and he walk in briskly with a kind-of apologetic smile.

“Baby, what are you doing here? I thought you have to pull overtime?” you ask, shocked.

Satoru handed one paper bag out to Mayumi, and handed the other one to you, “Didn’t have to last minute.”

Your eyebrows rose at his words, and you look at him quizzically, “Or…does that translate to you tossing your mission to your students?”

Satoru whined and pouted, “I’m not that bad…anyway I’m giving them the opportunity to train and become stronger; it’s tough love, babe.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

“I will leave you two alone. Thank you very much for the food and cake,” Mayumi stated with a cheeky grin, and holding up the paper bag containing a piece of dessert, a slice of delicious Belgian chocolate fudge cake, and a main course dish.

Satoru nodded with a smile, “You’re welcome.”

You then take hold of his hand, and lead him to your office. “Come on, baby.”

Setting aside the paperwork and documents on your desk, and placing the paper bag, you take the food and cake out, as Satoru sat down in a chair by your desk. Then you place your hands on his shoulders, giving him a massage, you lean your head low, and you both engage in a kissing session.

“Thank you very much for coming up to my office,” you say with a grin.

“You are welcome, baby,” Satoru said back with a smile.

Satoru just sat watching and staring at his beloved girlfriend, as you eat the food and cake, and he giggled.

“What?” you ask. “I have something on my face?”

Satoru giggled, “You have cream on your lips.”

You blush, embarrassed, looking away, he grinned at you adoringly. You pick up a tissue, and are about to wipe your lips discreetly, when Satoru just took hold of your chin, and leaned in to kiss you deeply and passionately. You gasp, taken aback by his unexpected action, but you soon sink right into it as he wrapped his arms tight around you, and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. Engaged in a heated making-out session, Satoru got you out of your chair, and have you set your butt on the edge of your desk. Both on fire, even if you break off the kissing now and then to take a breather, there is still fire, deep lust, love and passion burning in you both, and you are both aching for each other.

“This is my office, we can’t really…” you start breathily.

“But we’ve never done it in your office,” Satoru stated huskily.

“Ugh…” you groan.

Satoru tugged your hips closer, and he grinded against you, making you feel his hardening member, he buried his head into the crook of your neck and grinned, “Come on, baby, let’s christen it.”

“Ugh…I’m not sure that’s a good idea…,” you moan as he continued kissing and sucking your neck.

“Come on, baby, there’s nobody here but us,” Satoru begged.

“Mayumi is in the other office!” you hiss.

“But isn’t she a few doors away? And she won’t bother us now that I’m here,” Satoru stated with a grin.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, you cannot believe he would be so daring, your office is not exactly opaque, people can see through your office unless you use the blinds.

Satoru stared back innocently with a pout, “You can use the blinds, can’t you?”

Your mouth twitch, but you easily gave in, you sighed with a reluctant smile, “Fine…”

“Thank you very much, baby,” Satoru grinned.

He tugged you over to the leather couch, after he quickly shut and locked your office door, and pulled the blinds, giving yourselves privacy. He kneeled on the carpeted floor as he pried your thighs apart to settle between them, and he tugged you in for a deep, passionate kiss. He engaged you in a making-out session again, but his hands were now very busily undoing your work jacket and shirt. He threw away your jacket and shirt as soon as the buttons were undone, leaving your upper body in nothing but a black lace bra, and you stop kissing for a while, as he stared at your heaving breasts encased in a lacy prison, without another word, he quickly and roughly pulled the bra cups down and ripped the bra away from your body, exposing your voluptuous breasts to his naked eyes, he quickly latched his lips on to your creamy, smooth but firm mounds.

You throw your head back and moan, Satoru paid his full and complete attention to your breasts, sucking and nipping, while his hands busied themselves with taking off your skirt, tights and underwear, and your hands busy themselves with taking off his shirt, and undoing his belt. You cooperate with one another by moving now and then to allow the other to remove pieces of clothing much easier, and soon you both are completely naked. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist and swapped positions, so that he is now the one sitting in the couch, with you sitting in his lap.

“Ride me,” Satoru whispered huskily.

You did not need to be told a second time, you position yourself over his rock hard member, and you slide down ever so slowly and smoothly, and he groaned into your neck as you consume him inch by inch. He held tight to you, his face nuzzled you neck, groans slipping from his mouth uncontrollably, as you wrap so deliciously tight around him.

“Fuck! You are so tight! Baby, ride me,” Satoru stated huskily.

You grin teasingly, “Beg.”

Satoru growled.

You laugh, “Hey, you are the one asking for it, not to mention, this is my office.”

He growled, frustrated, then he sighed. “Fine, I give up, I beg of you, baby. Please ride me.”

You laugh a tinkling laugh. “There you go, baby.”

You start to move your hips; his hands slid down to grip them, he moaned as you move and gyrate your hips.

“Baby, you are so perfect,” Satoru moaned.

He started to thrust his hips, thrusting up his hips to give you some support and leverage, and you continue to move up and down his cock, giving him his own private little show of your breasts bouncing up and down, he groaned at the purely erotic show, but then he cradled your face in his hands, looking at you seriously.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Satoru asked.

“I thought it was just the sex,” you respond jokingly.

Satoru rolled his eyes, then turned serious, “Y/N, I really do love you, so goddamn much. It’s not just the sex, the sex is only part of what we have, and I love you, all of you.”

You smile lovingly at him, “I know, silly. I love you too, all of you.”

He grinned, and kissed you deep, and you both continued making love into the night, and ended up falling asleep with you on top of him and him still inside you.

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

A knock on your office door woke you up; you panic and frantically got up from the couch, while pulling away from Satoru gently, careful not to hurt him. You start picking up your clothes from the floor, cleaning up the mess frantically, while throwing on clothes at the same time.

“Y/N, you in there…? It’s Mayumi,” Mayumi announced.

“Yeah, I am, I will be right there,” you state hurriedly.

Just then, Satoru stirred awake, sleep still clear on his face, he groaned and stretched. “What’s going on, baby?”

“A new day, a new day is what going on,” you reply frantically.

Satoru grinned lazily as he stares at you throwing on clothes in a hurry, and he just sat back against the couch casually. “Last night was absolutely amazing.”

“Yes, it was, really good,” you say awkwardly.

You then stop, stalk still, you are staring at your ripped bra, courtesy of your boyfriend.

“Damn it, I have no bra to wear today,” you complain, annoyed.

“Sorry, baby, I was just way too excitedly last night,” Satoru stated.

However, when you turn to see Satoru grinning goofily at you, it is clear that he did not feel apologetic at all, and you roll your eyes. “I have work today, babe. How on earth am I going to work with no bra?”

More knocking came on the door.

“Y/N, are you okay in there?” Mayumi asked worriedly.

You wrap yourself, and opened the door to see a stunned Mayumi, and you smile awkwardly. “I’m fine.”

“Satoru stayed the night?” Mayumi stated teasingly. “I figured.”

“Well…” you start to respond.

“Morning, Mayumi-chan,” Satoru greeted with a bright grin.

Mayumi grinned teasingly, “And…ah ha, you did more than sleeping…”

You roll your eyes and admit, “Yes, we did, and it will never happen here again.”

“Don’t bet on it, sugar,” Satoru called.

You then turn to him, and hiss, “Throw some clothes on, will you?”

Mayumi laughed. “Don’t worry, I am just here to inform you that it’s still early, and you still have time to get washed and dressed. Just make sure you both look presentable before all our colleagues arrive.”

Mayumi walked away chuckling and you shut your office door; you turn back to Satoru, who has begun to put on his clothes, and you walk up to him, wrapping your arms around him, and kiss him lovingly. He grinned in response, and wrapped his arms around you, and started kissing back.

“I will see you later today?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I will pick you up for lunch,” Satoru replied with a grin.

He ran his hands up to cup your breasts, and gave them a squeeze. “You need me to bring you back a bra?”

Seeing the cheeky glint in his eyes, you roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

Satoru laughed.

“But seriously, do you? Your shirt is too flimsy, and I don’t want other people to be able to see what’s mine,” Satoru stated seriously.

You shrug casually, “I should have a sports bra here somewhere, and it should suffice.”

“Good,” Satoru grinned, satisfied. “I will see you at lunch, baby.”

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fanfic #gojo imagine #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines

[writethelifeyouwant]

Make Him Look - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: flirting, many many drinks, jealousy, dancing, slow burn Word Count: 3k Created for: @walker-bingo - In Vino Veritas | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Jealousy A/N: Written with the lovely @thinkinghardhardlythinking in mind ❤️and y'all can also blame her for the fact it got so long I split it into two 😂

Cordell swings his leg over a barstool and settles into his usual spot. The bar is busy but not crowded. There’s a few more empty stools awaiting occupants for the night, and Cordell hooks one with his foot and draws it closer, popping his hat down to save the seat for Liam, who’s on his way. But there’s no reason to wait for Liam before he orders – they get the same thing every time.

“Barkeep! Can I get some queso, hot wings, and whatever Pinthouse you’ve got on draft?”

“Sure thing, man,” the kid behind the bar drawls, his accent thick and voice lazy. Cordell would bet anything the guy had had a joint on his break earlier, but he’s off duty – tonight is not about busting people for drugs, tonight is about letting loose. He checks his phone to see if Liam had texted him that he’d left the office yet, but there is nothing there. Taking a sip of the drink that has just been plopped on a coaster in front of him, Cordell scans the room. It’s a bad habit that every law enforcement worker he’s ever met has developed. Even when he’s trying to relax and blow off some steam, he can’t help being a little vigilant.

He takes in the tableaus around him; the groups of kids from the local community college, the gaggle of mid to late aged men in awful polos that Cordell recognises as the inner city bowling league, a couple of less savoury looking guys playing pool, the cluster of women those guys keep eyeing up – he’ll keep an eye on that one.

Checking his phone again and taking another drink, he still hasn’t heard anything from Liam. He opens his brother’s contact and is about to give him a call to tell him to get his ass in gear when someone suddenly reaches down beside him, picks up his hat and drops it back on his head while they slide into the seat he’d been saving - except it’s not Liam.

“Hey you,” the stranger says familiarly, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

You shrug out of your jacket and sling it over your arm as you head up to the worn wood counter of the bar. You don’t see your friend yet, so you decide to go ahead and order a drink while you wait for her to show. She’s always late, you should have just assumed and shown up fifteen minutes from now. You play on your phone as you wait for the bartender to finish serving the gang of people at the other end of the bar. When you feel someone in front of you, you look up, about to order a glass of wine, except one is already being placed on the bar top in front of you.

You stare questioningly at the kid serving you the drink. You’d been here before, sure, but you’re hardly a regular, and even if you were you don’t recognise this server – so why does he know what you were about to order?

“Um, I didn’t–” you start but the kid interrupts you.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar, milady,” he gave a geeky little bow, “Sorry, he told me to say it like that,” he grimaces at himself. You chance a fleeting look back to the group you’d noticed him serving a few minutes ago and to your horror, you recognise your ex, Dirk, grinning back at you. He tips the brim of his ball cap and gives you a wink, like he’s expecting you to be impressed that he remembers you drink red wine. Shit, this is not how this night is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be here to get drunk with your best friend and have a bit of a dance, not be looking over your shoulder the whole night hoping that jerk leaves you alone.

Panicking a little now, you check your phone but there’s no text from Lea telling you when to expect her. Knowing her like you do, you would bet anything she won’t be here soon, and you don’t want to wait on your own and risk Dirk coming to talk to you. Desperately, you scan your eyes around the bar, cataloguing your options and escape routes. Someone catches your eye a few seats along from where you are. Tall, broad – dark and handsome, your mind supplies unhelpfully – but what really catches your eye is the badge hanging from his belt. He’s a Ranger.

Normally, you’d pick a group of girls who you know would happily pretend to know you so you don’t have to wait alone but you know Dirk, and you know he won’t be shy enough to let any number of girls stop him from coming to ruin your night. But a guy - and a Texas Ranger at that – Dirk wouldn’t dare. He had an outstanding DUI, and he’d always been a bit of a chicken around cops anyways.

Choice made, you grab the wine he’d bought you – hey, you’re not made of money, free booze is free booze – and you march purposefully over to the Ranger, who’s checking his phone and not paying attention until you grab his black cowboy hat off the chair next to him. Clearly he had been saving it for someone, and you want Dirk to think that someone is you.

“Hey you,” you chirp, placing his hat back on his head as you slide into the seat he’d been saving, “Thanks for saving me a seat.” You smile at the Ranger long enough to see him looking at you completely perplexed before you glance back to Dirk and see him watching you with a scowl. You let yourself feel inwardly triumphant and turn back to the man you’d just decided to befriend, if only temporarily.

Swivelling back towards him, you let yourself get a good look at his face for the first time. His bright hazel eyes are staring back at you, confused but not unkind. Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely apt, and now you’re seeing him properly you’re a bit speechless. You hadn’t counted on him being this freakin’ attractive.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to choke out under your breath. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, I’m just hiding from my ex,” you explain, and understanding melts across the man’s face.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sympathetically.

“Just pretend like you know me until my friend gets here?” you propose hopefully.

“Happy to,” he smiles, grabbing his drink and holding it out to clink against your wine glass. You tap your glass against his, relief flooding your body as you settle onto your stool a little more comfortably.

“Thank you…” you trail off leadingly, hoping he’ll fill in his name.

“Cordell,” he supplies.

“Now there is a Texan name if I ever heard one,” you giggle.

“If you’re gonna laugh at my name do I at least get the chance to laugh at yours too?” he grins jokingly.

“Y/N,” you give him your name, tucking your hair behind your ear and taking a sip of your wine.

“Well that’s no fun, how can I tease you for such a pretty name?” Cordell takes a sip of his own drink, mirroring you. Jeez, this one is a smooth talker.

-

When you finish your glass of wine, probably a little quicker than normal due to your anxious state, you check your phone again and see a missed call from Lea. “Crap,” you sigh, drawing a concerned look from Cordell, who is happily munching away on some chips and queso next to you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, muffled, mouth still full of food.

“Yeah, s’just my friend bailing on me,” you gripe, listening to the voicemail she’d left on your phone a few minutes ago. “Sorry I gate crashed your night for nothing,” you apologise, popping your phone back in your bag and planning on just going home to turn in early and watch some junky tv show in bed now that your ‘girls night’ wasn’t happening.

“Hey, you aren’t gate crashing.” Cordell shrugs, like he’s hedging his bets with his next statement. “I’ve had a good time so far.” His smile is shy and sincere, and you soften just a little in your annoyance at the world.

“I totally am though, you were clearly waiting for someone,” you gesture to the stool you’d taken up residence on.

“Just my work-a-holic brother, who, as luck would have it–” Cordell pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up to show the message on the lock screen “–also pulled out on me.”

“Oh,” you blink, not sure what to make of that. It sounds like he’s asking you to stay but… “Well, thank you for being my knight in shining armour for a bit, seriously, but I don’t really want to stick around just to have my ex looking at me all night.”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a creep and keep watching you all night, we could make that fun, give him something to watch,” Cordell offers, his smirk incongruous with the almost hopeful expression in his eyes.

“What?” You’re perplexed.

“I mean, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s pretty obvious to me that he wants you back, and you seem pretty pissed at him for that. I’m guessing the bastard cheated on you?” You huff in response, a little bitter that he’d read the situation so easily.

“Yeah, he did,” you admit, slumping against the bar, feeling downtrodden at the memory.

“So don’t let him chase you off,” Cordell shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He messed you around – you tellin’ me you wouldn’t like to mess with him right back?” he raises an eyebrow in temptation, a knowing smirk twitching at his lips.

“And you’re proposing that instead of not wanting him to look at me all night–”

“You make him look,” Cordell finishes your sentence for you. “We’ve already pretended to know each other for the past–” he checks his watch “–twenty minutes. May as well just do the whole pretend date.” Cordell looks at you with so much honesty, you believe that he really does just want to help you screw with Dirk. And you cannot say the idea isn’t appealing.

“Alright,” you concede, shaking your head slightly in disbelief that you’re actually agreeing to this, and Cordell’s face splits into a wide smile. Honestly, seeing that expression alone made agreeing to this worth it. “So, if we’re on a pretend date, you gonna pretend to buy me another drink?”

“No,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently.

“C’mon,” Cordell chides, grinning madly.

“I did not agree to this,” you shake your head, finishing off the last bit of wine in your glass.

“Come on,” he urges again, leaning against the bar and tilting his head close to yours pleadingly.

“I am not dancing,” you repeat, wholeheartedly meaning it. You think if you have to come into genuine skin to skin contact with Cordell, you might actually melt into a puddle. Now three glasses of wine into your fake date, you can feel yourself loosening up and really enjoying yourself with this handsome stranger. He’s kind, and funny, and a little weird but in a charming way – exactly your type. And him begging you to dance with him wasn’t helping your self-restraint. This is a fake date, you keep reminding yourself firmly every time he flashes you that little half smile that makes his eyes light up.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of boring fake dates you usually go on, but mine aren’t complete unless I get to show off my two-step and knock back a tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing tequila now, are we?” You laugh – this guy is actually ridiculous, and you kind of love it.

“That wasn’t a no,” he jumps on your ‘non denial’ and waves at the kid behind the bar. “Two tequilas, two limes?” he holds up two fingers and the bartender nods to him, quickly pouring out the shots and dropping two lime wedges onto a plate. Cordell grabs a salt shaker from the condiments rack on the bar and sets everything up between you. You let him work, watching incredulously but enjoying the show nonetheless.

“Give me your hand,” he holds out his own hand expectantly once he’s arranged all the pieces to his liking.

“Why?” your voice is nervous but your hand reaches out instantly of its own accord. Without answering he proceeds to rub the edge of the lime over the inside of your wrist, then puts the lime in your fingers and shakes some salt over the trail of juice he left behind. He does the same thing to himself, then passes you your shot, which you take in your lime-free hand.

“Right, you wanna do this the normal way or the ‘make Dirk jealous way’?” Cordell asks with a smirk once he’s oriented himself.

“I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s the ‘make Dirk jealous’ way?” you groan exaggeratedly, like he’s put some great burden on you, but the truth is you’re really enjoying yourself.

“Like this,” Cordell steps up to you and links your right arms together. Catching his drift you smile and try to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up inside you – a nervous reaction to feeling the warmth of his body against yours, even through the layer of his shirt. “One, two, three,” he counts off and you go to lick the salt off your wrist except that’s what Cordell is doing. You freeze momentarily, heat shooting up your arm from where his tongue and lips are laving over your skin. You don’t think to move until Cordell puts his own wrist against your lips and you lick obediently.

Your linked arms pull you closer together as Cordell lifts the tequila to his lips and you follow suit in a kind of trance, both knocking back your shots. The tequila hits you harder than you remember it ever doing before, and you scrunch up your face, disoriented for a moment until you once again feel Cordell’s lips on your skin. This time they’re wrapping around your finger tips as he sucks the lime into his mouth. You stand frozen, the burn in your mouth and your fingers meeting in your chest and ratcheting up your heart rate as if you’re trying to run away from the oncoming flames. But it’s hopeless, you’re stuck in the blaze now.

“You want your lime, darlin’?” Cordell laughs at your stock still frame and holds his fingers to your lips, gently pressing the fruit inside and urging you to suck. You’re sure you must have physically combusted into fire by now, but Cordell isn’t jumping away like he’s been singed – he’s pressing closer. “Dance with me,” he rasps, voice hoarse from the burn of the alcohol. It’s not a request anymore, it’s an order, and you don’t question it.

Drawing his hand down the arm of yours linked with his until your fingers lace together, he pulls you away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. It’s an upbeat country song, the kind you’d normally jump around to, but he pulls you in and wraps an arm around your waist like a proper partner dance calls for – except he’s ignored the social convention of leaving room for Jesus. He pulls you after him in tiny circles and you let him lead happily. When the song changes to something a little slower he pulls you just a little tighter, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your gaze off his shoulder up to his face.

His eyes dart over your shoulder, then smile down at you wryly, and you feel yourself blush. “He’s watching,” Cordell grins mischievously. You go to look but he puts a hand on your neck and holds you still, keeping your eyes on him. His fingers are strong and warm against your collarbone, ironically causing you to shiver. “No, don’t look at him,” his voice is low as he leans in conspiratorially, “you wanna make him look, remember?”

“Why are you helping me?” The alcohol swimming through your veins is making you comfortable and fuzzy, and you let yourself lean against him familiarly, your head resting against his chest as he continues to move you both around the dance floor. You feel him shrug as his grips on your hand and the nape of your neck tighten a little.

“The truth?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice, even if you can’t see them on his face.

“No, I want you to lie to me, please,” your voice manages to stay serious through the end of the joke before you burst into giggles, and you feel your laughter move into his body and trigger his own, making his chest rise and fall unevenly beneath your cheek.

“You are one hell of a gal, you know that?” You’re glad your face is buried in his chest so he can’t see just how brightly you smile at the compliment. “Truth is, I’ve been trying to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.” You can tell by how expressionless his voice has gone that he’s winding you up, but you pull back and slap your hand to your chest in mock horror.

“Well Cordell Walker, I have never met such a rogue in my life,” you gasp in your best Scarlet O’Hara accent. It’s not a good one. Neither of you can keep a straight face for more than a few seconds, and you both double over in laughter after your minuscule standoff.

As your laughter dies down, Cordell grabs your hands again and pulls you back to him, swaying entirely out of time to the song that’s playing. He looks like he’s about to say something but the words haven’t quite found their way to his tongue, and when you catch his eyes you suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say and you pull away from him. He looks at you, puzzled and just the slightest bit hurt as you try to find some cover for your sudden movement.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a bourbon fan, would you?”

Part 2 Here!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67

All Walker: @lovealways-j @delightfullykrispypeach @stoneyggirl @thinkinghardhardlythinking @sams-sass @walkersbabygirl

#walkerbingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #afgbingo #walker x reader #cordell x reader #fake dating #slow burn #walker fic #jared padalecki

[derangedhyena-delphinidae]

numerous issues with “The Aftermath of Seaworld”

When I get time to do so (aka when I’m done with the documentary), I’m likely going to make a video version of this going into the details. 

But for right now, I’ve made this. Both as a guideline for me and so everyone can begin to get an idea of the severity of issues involved.

Researching things is time-consuming and can be very difficult - believe me, I know. But I’m of the mind that if you’re making content with the intent of educating people, you have a responsibility to perform a certain level of due diligence. It IS okay to express uncertainty or doubt if you have it. It is NOT okay to confidently assert things that you do not know with certainty.

The video has an anticap slant, and I’m obviously not disagreeing on that front. But again: if you’re gonna go through the trouble of teaching people something. Bare minimum... please make sure it’s actually correct. *** 1) x ‘founded in 1964 and based out of Florida’ -  ???? Seaworld definitively began on the west coast, in San Diego, CA. And given that the first park opened in early 1964… things came together before that. Uh? 2) x ‘four people founded Seaworld [...]’ For one… it wasn’t originally conceived as a restaurant, it was originally conceived as an underwater bar/lounge. Two… calling the four guys involved in founding the place “frat brothers” is fucking ridiculous and completely overlooks a) how each was actually involved and b) the overall significance of their contributions to the field as individuals. Hint: like it or not, they were important and did a lot! 

3) x If one is going to bring up SWBGCF/rescues while talking about the literal founding of SW, it gives the impression that it’s been around for that duration. It hasn’t.  It’s actually a bit unclear when SW started an organized rescue program, but the Fund itself and all that it did came about much later. The rescue information and how it’s presented is actually INCREDIBLY complex, nuanced, and has a fascinating history (from a “bad company behaving badly” perspective). Oversimplifying this, to this degree and in this misinformative way, does the facts of the situation an INCREDIBLE disservice.  

4) x [assertive statement about what the name Shamu means]  ….Uh actually there’s several explanations for the name Shamu, and the most likely one IMO seems to be the “she-namu” one, not the “friend of Namu” one(? What is this even based on.) 4b) It’s not quite clear if she’s saying “Namu was the first ever orca to be displayed and perform shows” or or Namu was the first to be displayed and, like Shamu, performed shows. Either way, Moby Doll was the first to truly be displayed to the public, not Namu.

5) x ‘Namu died after one year in captivity and you’d think that this might deter Seaworld from doing the same thing again…’ Seaworld truly had nothing to do with Namu. And they leased/took possession of Shamu before Namu died. ‘Again’? What?

6) x “Now, PETA paints a pretty disturbing picture…” [while showing Okura’s artwork] This video segment is, and this is putting it nicely, a pile of poorly-researched BULLSHIT.  -Yes, PETA talks about Shamu’s capture, re: the harpooning of her mother. This Youtuber cannot apparently be arsed to look more than 1 Google search into this, as she proceeds to dismiss the information as potentially fabricated. There are two detailed accounts of Shamu’s capture that I’m aware of - in books - and though they have some slight conflicts, it’s absolutely NOT in doubt that the female who was very likely Shamu’s mother was 1) harpooned, 2) died from her injuries and 3) this had been done to make her easier to catch/locate because there was a fucking buoy attached to the harpoon. Which she dragged around for at least 24 hours prior dying.  So maybe don’t dismiss that as PETA hysteria, maybe TRY to determine the truth of the matter, which would inform one that it is both true and completely horrifying.  -In addition, Okura is an awesome individual who has worked very hard to create a variety of informative artwork for our cause. Okura is NOT associated with PETA and it’s borderline libel in my eyes to use their artwork in this dismissive manner when the primary sources of it can be easily identified online, with full explanations and everything. Do I take special offense to this because of the misuse of artwork? Absolutely. Artists get disrespected enough online. I’m tired of it. This kind of laziness IS NOT acceptable.

7) x ‘timeline is fuzzy about when Shamu died’ …………… it’s…. It’s really not … newspapers are pretty clear about it…..

8) x [complete and utter oversimplification of the lifespan issue, which is not acceptable for anything published in 2020. It just isn’t. If you’re going to bring it up like this, either do the legwork and get into the weeds or stay out.] 8b) [same for reproductive ages. sigh]

9) x if we’re going to talk about when Cornell was involved with Seaworld it’s very important to specify when Cornell was involved with Seaworld and not make it seem like it’s present tense.

10) x “both were rescued by Seaworld” - uh? no. Zero orcas have been rescued by Seaworld. Literally none. The infected-jaw orca was Sandy, whose story is complex and certainly does not involve Seaworld until much later. And many of the orcas in that time period had bullet wounds, often only identified post-mortem because they didn’t seem to hurt the animals much. Also, unflinchingly blending 70s captivity ethics with modern ones is also complete nonsense? 

11) x [tilikum coming from sealand] inhales I am going to make an entire video centered on this fucking subject because it’s one of the single most profound arguments for Seaworld being garbage as assessed by US government agencies in the 90s yet everyone utterly fails to mention this. Why?!

12) x what on earth is this nonsense re: quoting a quote from Zimmerman’s article - which has already been removed from its original context, so the original context is not available - and then penalizing the quote for existing as if Zimmerman’s article were the context? That is offensively disingenuous. I honestly don’t know what the original context is, either - but it’s wildly inappropriate to act as if the Zimmerman article is.

13) x this is relatively minor but ‘Paul Sprong’? You literally have his name on the screen. And then mis-reading his age too? While asserting it from a static article published years ago? Effort? Where is it?

14) x ‘another trainer, Peter’ ….. Ken Peters…. 

15) [weirdly glossing over the widely-available list of orca-trainer injuries/aggressions, despite it being central to the point.] 16) x This pilot whale outrage certainly happened but it was pretty clearly Blackfish that started the cascade of woes for Seaworld. Who has ever asserted this?

17) if you’re gonna just rehash blackfish, tell people to go watch blackfish.

18) x I’ve already gone over the context issue with Seaworld calling out Howard’s statement in Blackfish here (point 23). Which is to say, IN CONTEXT in Blackfish it’s clear what Mr. Garrett is talking about but, divorced from that, it sounds incorrect. But this Youtuber AMPLIFIES the issue by doubling down on the assertion with “no record of a killer whale doing any harm to anyone in the wild.” The surfer event should always be mentioned. Yes, there’s absolutely room for doubt. But there’s also a clear demarcation between an accidental attack (eg mistaken identity, as was likely for the surfer) and intentional one (eg the incidents at marine parks.) Why do people kneecap themselves on this point 18b) please stop acting like Luna represents orcas in general.

19) x “Howard, for all of his research…” … while referring to David Duffus’ b-roll and statements. Uh. 20) x Apparently this Youtuber has single-handedly resolved the dorsal fin issue. You know, the thing that hasn’t been properly researched ever, that has been subject to a ton of debate, that isn’t 100% settled for a variety of reasons, and almost everyone talks about in terms of theories and likely possibilities.  21) x Alexis Martinez wasn’t “torn to shreds.” In a space where even moderate exaggerations are often penalized harshly by the opposition, this kind of blatant nonsense is not welcome. Plus, the reality’s bad enough… you don’t have to make anything up!

22) x *sighs. points at own webpage*

23) Talking about the shows stopping without acknowledging how that’s a bit of a farce is something else. In addition to apparently just flipping to buying what Seaworld’s selling re: its ‘improved image.’ 

*** Tl;dr video is so unrelentingly full of errors ranging from small to egregious it makes me seriously concerned for the veracity of the rest of this person’s content. The maker of the video provided a list of their sources in their video description, which I will have time to look through in detail later. The above is solely a response to the information they present IN THE VIDEO - which, is very important because let’s be real: a lot of people are not going to look at the list of sources. People don’t even do it when citing papers (no really, you’d be surprised, fml.) For anyone who wants to whinge that I haven’t linked or asserted any sources of my own for my claims… well, remember what I said about time-consuming and ‘I’m busy’? Yhea. Getting all of that together will be part of making a video. So if you want to shrug loudly at my list here… you can, that’s your prerogative, I’m happy to say I DGAF if that’s your takeaway. 

What I hope, is that if there’s anything I’ve made clear over the While of running this blog, it’s that I don’t fuck around when it comes to sources and information and do my best to provide what information exists, all of it, not just cherrypicked bits and bobs. Anyways. Here’s step 0 at least. Please don’t share that video. Pretty please.

#seaworld #grumble

[hanibalistic]

#758A87 | LEE JENO.

genre | fluff, domestic au, platonic love

word count | 1652

warning | none​

note | i am back to advocate for peeling oranges for each other. also, yes, i may be writing a little nct but don’t count on it.

the way jeno kicked off his shoes and begrudgingly walked past you to go to his room told you that he was rejected.

there was this girl who he has been going on and on about for a while now. he kept it to himself fairly well in the earlier stages of his crush, but you caught on anyway after noticing the cues he dropped here and there—smiling at his phone, mentioning her name in and out of conversations, and mostly jaemin's constant teasing. after he came clean to you about his occupied affection, he fully allowed himself to express how ever-growing his feelings were.

although there were times when you felt an overwhelming urge to shut him up (for someone who talks so little, jeno sure talks a lot in the comfort of your shared apartment), ultimately you were happy to see that he has a reason to be so giddy and happy all the time. she makes him talk like nobody can, she makes him beam and coo, and you were grateful that this unknown girl could bring the best out of your friend.

occasionally, though, when you watch the way his eyes light up in the mention of the girl, you would feel a cold breeze of loneliness for the absence of a companion of your own. you were not in love, and neither was anyone in love with you, and there was a deep hollowness in the absence of affection, whether one-sided or reciprocated, that made you feel an unexplainable desperation to find love without being in need of it.

you turned away from your laptop that you set on the coffee table when you heard footsteps trailing out to the living room. water still dripped past his skin, showing that he didn't bother to dry himself thoroughly after the steaming hot shower he just took. his blue hair dripped wet and the towel around his shoulders was the only thing catching the rainfall from his head.

jeno moved slow and depressed, his eyes not a trace of glow in them and his jaw tightly gritted. he bent down to pick up the shoes he kicked off in a moment of a tantrum when he got home, but his fingers were flailing as if he has no will to do anything but lay on his bed and reflect on his entire love life—how it started, how much he loved the girl who broke his heart, where it went wrong, and what the hell was so bad about him that she didn't love him back?

you pouted slightly in awkwardness when he resulted in placing his shoes near the wall instead.

oh lord, he totally got rejected. that was not the worst thing but the fact that you never knew how to deal with someone heartbroken. you never had to go through it yourself, neither were you ever placed in a situation where someone else needed your comfort.

what could you do? distract him by giving him tasks to do? let him vent his emotions out to you even though he has always been quiet about his negative feelings? be insensitive and remind him there were bigger problems than being dumped?

what if he didn't need it, though? do heartbroken people truly need their hearts to be mended at all? if the heartbreak is the only thing left of whom they used to love, do they truly want to get rid of it?

"jeno."

annoyed but kind, jeno looked up from the cracks of the wall to you. he was upset, but he thought it unfair to take it out on you. your wide eyes glanced back at him when he stood up straight again, and you flashed him a tight smile as you raised your hands to him. he looked at the oranges sitting comfortably on your palms, and internally, he sighed.

"can you peel these oranges for me?" you asked as you usually would, sounding occupied but also free.

jeno really could not be bothered with doing anything. he just got rejected by who he thought was the love of his life; he felt confident this morning, especially after you helped fix up his hair and pick his outfit, as well as jaemin's encouraging words, only to have his expectations crumble with a simple answer. some part of him felt humiliated and stupid for choosing this route, for thinking that he had a chance, and he really cannot be bothered at all.

"[name], i'm sorry but i really don't feel like doing anything right now," he confessed lowly.

he was about to turn to leave when you called him again, much more urgently this time but still with a hint of dragging laziness in your tone.

"ah–jeno, please?" you pleaded in a faint childish whine, squeezing the oranges in your hands. "just one orange? please, jeno?"

he almost rolled his eyes when he turned to face you, but the softness that erupted in his chest at the sight of you sitting on the floor, oranges in your hand, stopped him from letting you see his annoyance. his hammering brain relaxed when he saw you put one orange down and attempted to peel the other one with trouble.

he sighed with unknown but familiar endearment when your thumb tore right through the fruit, sprouting juices over your once clean hands, and a gentle defeat once again rushed over him when you frowned up at him with the failure in your hands and a pleading glint in your eyes.

the softness in his heart—he never thought much about it. much of his affection for you was platonic, he believed, but they were also affection that seemed to trump the ones he felt for the girl he loved whenever they rush to the nape of his neck. the feelings he has for you often seemed to trump all else when he was confronted with them blatantly, such as now, and he could do anything.

he could do anything. he could declare that you are one of his best friends, maybe he could tell you he loves you, but mostly he could brush away his sadness to peel you an orange if you asked.

"jeno..."

"okay, okay," he said as he crouched down next to you and took the untouched orange from the table.

at some point, he lost his balance and he ended up sitting down next to you. he skillfully ripped the skin off the orange, carefully and precisely revealing the tasty fruit inside. meanwhile, you struggled freely with your destroyed orange by taking apart the slices and popping them into your mouth.

"oh, try it, this is good."

jeno looked up briefly when you spoke. he opened his mouth so you could feed him the orange slice, and he raised his brows in approval. you grinned, taking note that you should get more of the same ones next time you go buy groceries to stock up.

there was a moment of silence where you focused on the television and jeno on the last bit of orange slices in his hands. when he was done, he reached over to the coffee table and dumped them on the tissue you laid on top. when he was done, he dusted his hands and hoisted himself off the floor, just before you spoke again.

"you got rejected, didn't you?"

jeno pursed his lips, the sorrow rushing over him once again after having forgotten about it. he nodded. "yeah."

you turned your head to look at him. jeno felt self-conscious under your gaze. he never did so, but it felt like you were accessing what was wrong with the way he looked.

"maybe it's your blue hair," you said, pointing at his head and a playful laugher hanging on your lips. "maybe you reminded her too much of sonic, like the hedgehog, so she said no–"

"you are not funny." he smiled patiently but humorlessly.

"i am trying my best!" you exclaimed, then you leaned back against the edge of the couch and asked to the ceiling, "are you sad?"

"yeah."

"okay then," you muttered, then you laid your head on his shoulder and huffed. "how about now?"

jeno choked on a short laugh, in disbelief yet he was kind of used to your way of comforting people, but his heart beat softly against his chest at both the proximity and your discreet care. if anything, he would have preferred your way than the way of talking and reaching into the cave of his emotions. mainly because the latter does nothing but make him realize how much he missed with just one rejection.

at least with your head on his shoulder, he remembers he has friends, a companion. he has someone he has a soft spot for, someone he can put all his abandoned love for in the meantime as he searched for another lover, someone who can make him bother when he feels like he can't anymore.

"maybe a little less," he whispered, smiling to himself.

"okay..." you reached your hand to him, an orange slice in your hand, "care for an orange?"

jeno laughed, but then he grimaced with a choke of disbelief when he saw the monstrosity in your hands.

"[name]! i said peel the orange not kill it!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide at how sticky and wet your hands have become from just peeling the orange.

"i told you i just can't do it!" you laughed incredulously, shrugging and popping another orange slice into your mouth. "this is why i have you."

jeno rolled his eyes in defeat, but he denies nothing of it. 

you are where he puts his love into for now, you are who holds half of his soul for now. you are who he is willing to peel oranges for, maybe not just for now but for the rest of his life.

#jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #jeno x y/n #lee jeno #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct dream x y/n #nct dream blurbs #jeno blurbs #lee jeno blurbs #lee jeno imagines #nct x you #nct x gender neutral reader #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct blurbs #nct jeno #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno x you #lee jeno scenarios

[masterthespianduchovny]

The Poor Development of the Marauder's Era

I've recently been listening to Binge Mode and, even now, I honestly believe the Marauder's era is some of Rowling’s worst writing of the series. When I say Marauder's Era, I'm simply referring to characters and events pre Harry.

The Marauder's era isn't poorly developed because I didn't like what happened. It's poorly developed because of how Rowling handled the characters, the events she put them in, and the reaction to said events.

As a kid, I respected Lily and thought she could do no wrong. As an adult, I find her decisions questionable. For transparency purposes, I read these books in real time and was a similar age as the characters. So, I don't want to hear anything about me being "unfair." Of all of the Mauraders era kids back then, I was the most generous to Lily. It's only when I reflected more about her role in the series that I realized how lackluster she is as a character and as a friend.

Rowling relies on Lily being seen as the moral compass to signify who and what is right or wrong during this era. The problem with this is that Rowling undermines Lily in the process. Minus being flat out called Mudblood by Snape, she has no proof that Snape has done anything her friends accused him of doing, but she unequivocally views it as the truth. Despite Lily listening to Snape, it's not really in good faith because she already has her mind made up about Snape's guilt.

Now, this is important to note because since Lily hasn't seen any of Snape's alleged bad behavior for herself, why would she definitively accuse him of these things? Lily claims she was in denial about this when she ended their friendship, but it's quite obvious she does believe Snape is guilty.

What makes Lily's beliefs and choosing to side with others over Snape is that none of the Marauders have ever mentioned ONE instant of Snape doing or saying some fucked up shit. As a reminder: THEY HATED HIM. They never mentioned anything about him bullying others, calling muggles mud blood, or any other troubling behavior. It was merely because he existed. They couldn't even tie him to being a Death Eater.

Also, let's consider the fact that kids like Snape have rumors made up about them all of the time. ALL OF THE TIME. Not even Snape's own bullies could attest to Snape doing the things Lily's friends claimed Snape did, yet Lily believed their words?

And, maybe I'm being nitpicky, but the fact that Lily says "my friends" in reference to defending Snape has always rubbed me the wrong way. Snape IS her friend too. Her best friend, in fact. Why wouldn't she have said, "my OTHER friends." My Gryffindor mates or whatever? IMO, that implies that Snape is just some weirdo she talks to and not the person she's known the longest.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS:

Have Lily overhear Snape calling one of his peers Mudblood. Have the Marauders be incensed that Snape called someone a mud blood. Have them call out Lily when she tries to intervene on them confronting (confronting NOT bullying) Snape. Hell, even have Snape fucking bully someone.

Because as far as canon goes, Snape was a bystander as death eater wannabes bullied people and presumably did nothing about it. We don't see any of his alleged wrongdoings and the people who hate him can't even recall that this happened.

There shouldn't be an ambiguity or readers relying on the word and opinion of Lily to guide their opinion.

Some may say, "she's only a kid." To this I say, "You're right." Lily was a teen and teens don't always know how to handle complex situations, I will give her the benefit of the doubt. However, this means we shouldn't hold her as the moral standard.

Lily essentially says that the difference between the Marauder's bullying people and the death eater wannabes doing it is dark magic. I'm sorry, but that's weak sauce. Dark magic is such a vague and broad thing depending on what you're talking about, so nah...Also, is there something not dark about James choking Snape with soap? I mean, that could've traumatized Snape to the extent of him being triggered by soap. Isn't that dark?

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THAT.

Jut have Lily acknowledge that behaviors by the Marauders and death eater wannabes are both bad, but for different reasons. Problem solved. She can even emphasize that she takes so much issue with Dark Magic due to why it's being used and what it ties into.

We hear how great Lily is and that everyone loves her, yet Harry meets literally NOT ONE FRIEND of Lily's. He meets James' friends and a former teacher of hers. We don't see Lily hanging out with anyone else. We hear examples of Lily feeling sad for people, but no references to her actually helping people or supporting others somehow.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THAT.

Maybe instead of Lily talking about the bad thing Avery and Mulciber did, she could've intervened, even if it was too late, and "saved" Mary. Hell, we could've had Lily hex James rather than just threatening it. I'm sorry, after literally reading the many ways the Golden Trio are there for each other even before big shit started to happen, Lily threatening to hex someone who is actively bullying her friend doesn't cut it.

And give her her own friends for Harry to meet.

Lily is said to be smart and empathic, but how she deals with Snape and his issues don't exactly support this.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED IT.

Have Lily genuinely listen to Snape's grievances about the night he was saved. Don't have her be so dismissive about the Lupin thing. Maybe have Snape set up by the Marauders and the big reveal is a flop.

I know Rowling wanted to tackle people having shady pasts and how they can change, but 1. Either she needed to commit to it being a rivalry or 2. She needed to appropriately deal with the bullshit the Marauder's did. Snape is justifiably angry and distrusting of the Marauders due to one almost killing him as a joke and the other publicly humiliating him. This doesn't even account for YEARS of bullying, which remus admitted happened.

We cannot say that bullying is wrong, and then excuse the bullies because they were on the right side of a war.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS.

She should've had Remus flat out acknowledge they were wrong for what they did and that there was no excusing it. Then, have Sirius and Remus privately talk about this where Sirius admits it too. OR, despite loving them and his dad, Harry realizes how flawed they were and that their reasoning is simply to protect their dad not necessarily because James grew up. OR Rowling could've not written James and Sirius behaving as psychopaths AS WELL AS show instances of Snape starting shit with them.

SHOW US Snape deliberately starting shit with the Marauders and James trying to apologize. Show us James' growth outside of that. Don't tell us that James is secretly hexing Snape behind Lily's back because it has her looking like a dumb ass.

Also, all of this James stuff is important because Lily ending up with James is such a bad fucking look. IMO, it makes her disgust at his behavior seem performative. It says that she didn't really care about him bullying others, but rather, the perception of her being with someone who bullied others. And, no, having Lily smile as Snape was actively being bullied, and then poverty shaming him isn't a good look.

"BUT, BUT SNAPE CALLED HER A RACIST SLUR!!!"

It doesn't matter how much you want to give your friend the benefit of the doubt, if you believe he's calling others racist slurs, you need to confront it. And, if you believe it to be true, you need to end it. You don't wait until he calls you the slur to say, "hey, maybe he really is this racist person people claim he is."

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS.

After James saved Snape's life, this is where he could've matured and his big head lessened. He still hexes others, but leaves Snape alone because he realized that they went to far with him even before Sirius' "prank." Instead of James being the antagonizer, it should've been Sirius. Once again, James breaks this up and he and Sirius gets into a small argument. Snape is let down as Lily runs up and Snape says his mud blood remark.

Snape then tries to hex Sirius and James steps in once Snape refuses to stop. It gets out of hand and Snape accidentally harms Lily.

I won't lie, I'm a HUGE Snape fan. However, because of how Rowling handled this era, there are many ambiguous things, situations that don't make any sense, not enough development of characters, etc which undermines the story she tried to tell.

Yes, I do love the series, except I don't like any of the Marauders or Lily. I don't hate Lily, but she grates. Remus really was a coward and irresponsible as hell. Sirius was childish as fuck and, no, him being in prison doesn't excuse or justify all of his behavior. James saved his peer's life, and then publicly humiliated and sexually assaulted him. He didn't stop bullying, he just stopped how he did it.

This doesn't mean I believe that Snape was faultless, but I believe this era was so poorly told that by default, I believe and sympathize with Snape.

Although I believe Rowling wanted readers to do this, I don't think she planned for some readers such as myself to hold the positions we do. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Snape as is, but I do believe Rowling didn't intend for me to hold the views I do about Lily and the Marauders.

I don't understand her laziness during this era, especially since it's so key in Snape, Lily, and James' stories.

Lastly, she could've developed James and Lily better.

I know she only has so much time, space, pages blah blah blah. However, the best writers find a way to make it work with what they have.

#harry potter #Harry Potter series #Severus snape #lily potter #James potter #remus lupin

[comradekatara]

people keep saying they want this AU so okay here you go here’s the AU

I call it: grandpa aang

imagine that dumbass roku actually did his job and convinced sozin not to commit genocide against the air nomads and colonize the world

sozin’s still a terrible person, but maintains that shittiness to within the borders of the fire nation, wherein he bleeds the lower classes dry, defunds the arts, kills dragons for sport, privatizes healthcare and education, etc. his notions of imperialist conquest remain a long-forgotten pipe dream by the time he dies

azulon carries on his father’s legacy of being a power-obsessed dickhead, but he doesn’t wage war

his second son, ozai, wants the throne, clear as day. he thinks the world deserves to know their nation’s glory

crown prince iroh’s son, lu ten, dies. ozai uses this opportunity to put promote himself in front of his father. it does not go well. then it does. he is crowned firelord shortly after

his son speaks out against the war his father has begun waging on the world. he is challenged to an agni kai and banished.

the avatar is a jolly old airbender named aang. ozai tells zuko “bring him to me in chains, and only then can you come home.” zuko, being the traumatized 13 year old that he is, believes him.

iroh advises him against this plan. he tells zuko he does not have the proper training to go up against the avatar. he tells him that even if he did, what would it accomplish? zuko yells at him for being a fat, lazy old man who doesn’t understand honor. iroh sighs.

zuko shows up at the southern air temple barely a week after he can get out of bed again after the injury. there’s a huge bandage covering his eye and ear, and he’s embarassed about the fact that he stumbles when he walks. he can’t even firebend properly anymore because he finds the slightest provocation of a flame terrifying.

no matter. he needs to capture the avatar. that is what his father said would redeem him, so that is what must be done.

he demands to see the avatar, so that he may fight him. iroh ...questions this tactic, but zuko insists that this is how one should capture the avatar—with honor. the air nomads are just like “who is this strange lost child and how did he break into the southern air temple which was heretofore inaccessible to non-airbenders?”

they take him to see aang, 109 and fit as a fiddle. aang’s like “oh have you come here because you want me to heal whatever happened to your head, considering the size of that bandage?”

and zuko’s like “what???? no???? I’m absolutely FINE. GREAT, EVEN. I’ve come to FIGHT YOU.”

aang’s like “oh no I don’t do that. I’m a pacifist. also you’re like..... a baby?”

meanwhile, iroh is totally geeking out because he’s never actually been to an air temple before and it’s so beautiful and lively and full of joy and spiritualism, so unlike the culture of the fire nation.

zuko is very mad that aang won’t fight him. if aang doesn’t accept his challenge then it’s not a fair match. and he’s like “no you don’t UNDERSTAND I have to kidnap you FAIR AND SQUARE.”

he says fuck it, azula would probably just shoot a fireball at the old man anyway, so he does. it’s a pretty big fireball, all things considered (he is very angry). nonetheless, aang blocks it easily. zuko keeps attacking him, but aang just walks over to him and is like “okay that’s enough of that.”

zuko is distraught because without aang he can’t go home and he’ll be banished forever. aang’s like “wait what?” and gets zuko to explain to him what happened. so aang’s like “okay then, change of plan: you’ve captured me. let’s go to the fire nation.”

zuko is so relieved that he actually gets to go home, he doesn’t understand why aang just surrendered to him, but he doesn’t really care. the fire nation is pretty heavy on the anti-avatar propaganda so zuko gives him the smallest room on his ship and makes half his crew guard him so that he doesn’t escape. aang doesn’t mind. he’s ready to have some Words with the firelord.

on the journey home, he tries to talk some sense into a very angry and traumatized zuko. zuko’s laments that he’s even worse than uncle

zuko shows up with the avatar in chains (aang could break free at literally any moment but none of them need to know that). ozai’s like “what the fuck.” aang’s like “WHAT THE FUCK IS RIGHT.”

“this boy is twelve—“ “thirteen, actually, and practically an adult??” “okay, fine, this LEETLE TEENY BABY BOY is THIRTEEN, and you BURNED HIS FACE OFF???????”

“there is a perfectly logical explanation for that,” says ozai, “and that is because. I hate him.”

aang asks if there were any witnesses to the affair. he soon learns that “of course there were, the entire court was there to spectate the event!” he knew that agni kais were a thing, but only as a vague idea. he didn’t realize people actually maintained the practice, to this day, frequently. he likes to think of himself as a pretty open-minded guy who understands and values cultural differences, but that’s totally barbaric and definitely crosses the line.

he declares that as the avatar, as it is his job to maintain balance, he cannot allow for ozai to keep the throne, as his quest for power would clearly harm the whole world. his new best friend/adopted son iroh takes the throne instead. he doesn’t particularly want it, a changed man ever since his son died, but if it is what must be done.

aang stays in the fire nation for a while, helping to oversee a peaceful transition between firelords. he becomes zuko’s (and azula’s) honorary grandpa, and they feed turtleducks in the garden every day.

#AUs #aang #zuko #iroh #ozai #HE GOT NO DEPTH PERCEPTION AND HES READY 2 FITE GOD!!!!!

[crystaljins]

Equinox

Characters: Jimin x Reader

Word count: 7.2K

Synopsis: When it first was announced that the King of Spring was to marry the Queen of Winter, shock and outrage poured across the nation. Now, six months later, Jimin can’t help but feel maybe the Queen of Winter isn’t as evil as she seems.

King of spring!Jimin x Queen of Winter!reader

Notes: This is NOT the huge fic I’m working on LOL. It’s a drabble that turned into a BIG drabble, in dedication to my good friend, who wanted to see a fic where both main characters are royalty.

Well, here we are.

Warnings: Not really any? Pining, maybe, mentions of death and tragedy, and maybe one big kiss?

Jimin has spent an entire three months of the year in the Central Palace every year since his coronation as the King of Spring. Yet, despite his familiarity with the luxurious building, this year it feels particularly unbearable.

It isn’t the palace itself that is unbearable. After all, the Central Palace fulfils any need he could have for luxury and then some, with expansive grounds and an imposing throne room and a ball room that many have only dreamed of seeing. It almost reaches the point where he’s sick of it sometimes- the gold rimmed pillars and the intricate carvings of the stairwell railings and the other numerous unnecessary and excessively decadent detailing. 

It’s just... He much prefers his small cottage and the lovely little orchard he looks after. Sometimes children from the local village will sneak in and steal fruit but he merely smiles privately to himself when he hears the peals of laughter filter through the open windows of his home. And ever since he received a letter a week ago informing him that you had made his cottage your current abode, he has been inexplicably eager to return home.

The end of his current stay (which has actually been a six month stay this time around instead of the usual three) draws near, with Spring just on the precipice of Summer. As the reigning King of Spring, it is his duty to oversee the entire kingdom during the season where his powers are strongest, to manage the season and ensure his people prosper, and then prepare the way for the Queen of Summer to take his place for the next three months. 

Today is one of the days where his duty feels particularly tedious- he has never particularly minded Haeun and her chatty nature, but today she just seems absolutely asinine. Perhaps it is the fact that she seems uninterested in discussing anything aside from the current status of the Queen of Winter when there are so many more important things to discuss, like the crop maturation this year and how much sunlight would best benefit their ripening, or even the Equinox Ball tonight which marks the official changeover between his season and her’s. Instead, the only words that have been coming out of her mouth are with regards to you, and him, and your fairly recent wedding.

When he had been wedded to you on the Winter Solstice, many had been shocked, but none more so than the Queen of Summer. After all, for the last few hundred years, the one who bears the crown of Summer had always been betrothed to the ruler of Spring. It was only natural, as Spring prepares the way for Summer, and such a pairing enhances the powers of both parties. The kingdom had faced many centuries of prosperity thanks to what was essentially a match forged in the heavens. No doubt in Haeun’s mind, her rightful place was as his bride. And Jimin can’t blame her- for many years, he had thought the same thing. He had assumed his life would follow a similar path to those of his predecessors and that he would inevitably end up marrying Summer. And yet, here he is, married to the evasive, mysterious, and apparently cruel Queen of Winter.

It had been the Elders to make the call to arrange such a shocking match up. To have the Queen of Winter marry the King of Spring was unheard of- ridiculous, even. But you were unlike the rulers that had gone before you- your powers were endless, unstoppable, and the Winters brought by you were unforgiving and cold, and many lost their lives. Something had to be done- your powers had to be balanced since you couldn’t seem to reign them in. And since it has always been Spring to conquer the cold aftereffects of Winter, to warm the earth and coax life back into places where frost had chased it away, it fell to Jimin to take the place as your husband and to prevent disaster striking the Kingdom. A duty which he had taken up with a resigned sense of obligation. 

At least at first.

“So are the rumours all true about her?” Haeun enquires. Her question seems innocent enough. For whatever reason, you had always remained frustrating allusive to the others. Locked away in your wintry fortress (or at least, everyone assumes that’s where you must be despite the fact that no one has ever confirmed the presence of a fortress within your domain), everyone reports that you must be ruthless and cold-hearted. Perhaps even evil- after all, when you are seated upon the throne, the harshest and most brutal Winters ever seen in history terrorise the lands. 

But the question has Jimin on edge, for he has found that you do not fit nicely into the box of icy and cruel that he had thought you would. 

“I would say those rumours do not hold an ounce of truth to them.” Jimin offers mildly, pausing from where he strolls along Haeun to observe a rose bloom that has begun to wilt. Normally, the palace gardens are impeccable, and the gardens thrive during Jimin’s reign, but things always seem to get a bit messy at the transition between seasons. This particular bloom must be the victim of his and Haeun’s powers clashing as she prepared to take the throne for her season. He gently runs his fingers over the drooping petals and instantly the rose brightens, petals curling upwards as it finds new life in response to his presence. It reminds him of the first time you had borne witness to the effect of his powers and the quiet awe on your face. Not for the first time since Spring began, he feels a strange ache in his chest at the thought of you. You’re at his cottage right now, surely. What kind of expression are you wearing as you gaze upon his carefully kept orchard? 

“Really? She’s always so haughty at the Equinox ball that I was sure she thought she was better than us. Just because her powers are stronger- does she not know that people die because of her?” Haeun sniffs, clearly displeased by the way Jimin has not joined in her obvious attempts to complain about you. 

“I think she is aware of it.” Is all Jimin offers to Haeun, but internally he recalls the way you lock yourself in your quarters for the night whenever word reaches you that another innocent has died at the cold hands of Winter, and the way you spend most of your free time pouring over books and texts trying to learn how you might control your powers and soften your Winters. Haeun makes an annoyed scoff and folds her arms across her chest.

“Being aware of it isn’t enough, Jimin.” She says, and Jimin does not miss the way she uses his name when it is customary to call him by his season. “She needs to control it. We all do! It is the whole reason we take the throne. What use is she, if she cannot manage her own season? If I had were Winter, I would-“

“Haeun.” Jimin says firmly, and her eyes widen because even though she often takes liberties and calls him by his name, he has always been respectful and referred to her as Summer when it comes to the transition meetings between seasons. “It is not my place to discuss the personal life of Winter. And as her husband, I respectfully ask that you do not speak so liberally about my wife again. Unless you have anything further to discuss about the Equinox Ball tonight or about the occurrences during my season, I’ll be taking my leave now.” 

He bows deeply, demonstrating the respect her position demands, before turning on his heel. 

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She calls out. Jimin pauses, glancing over his shoulder. The sun peeking through the pillars of the pathway catches Haeun’s hair and highlights the softness of her features. Across the land, she is known as the sunlit beauty- warm and gentle and pretty, like the Summer season she reigns over. When he was young and still a prince and everyone had thought she was his future wife, he had even harboured a crush on her.  “That you’re stuck with her? All she brings is coldness and death. You were forced into it- I know you were! Doesn’t it hurt to be wedded to her?”

The unspoken sentiment that Haeun does not voice is “when you could have been with me”. Looking at her now, perhaps her sudden interest in you has more to do with Jimin than any real sentiment towards your actions. 

And perhaps, Haeun’s words are closer to the truth then he wants them to be. Initially, it had bothered him. Why had the Elders had forced him to marry you? Was there not an easier way to subdue your immense powers? Why could you not just... control them? Even Autumn, free-spirited and lazy as he was, kept his season well-managed. And why did it fall to Jimin to fix something that was your own fault? Haeun was a much better match for him in terms of strengthening his powers, and he absolutely loathed the season of Winter- marrying the ruler of his least favourite season is certainly not something he had ever imagined doing. 

He had spent the first three months of his marriage staying with you in the Central Palace fuelled by that sentiment and at first you had made yourself very scarce. It had suited Jimin just fine- after all, he did not bear any particular affection towards you- perhaps he even detested you a little, and if the rumours were to be believed, he’d be better off interacting with you as little as possible. 

And then things had changed, for whatever reason. He can’t be sure what prompted you to do it, but one morning you had been sitting across from him in the dining quarters, enjoying your breakfast in silence as had become customary for the two of you, when you had decided to speak. 

“Winter isn’t as bad as you think.” You had said softly, taking a long sip of your drink, before fixing Jimin with a level gaze. He had glanced up in surprise- at that stage he could probably count on one hand the number of times you had spoken in his presence.

“I never-“ Jimin had begun, ready to defend himself but you had cut him off. 

“You didn’t have to.” You had said, though your tone had not been unkind. You actually have a very sweet voice, one that contrasts with your icy reputation. “But, today I have nothing scheduled, and I wouldn’t mind showing you a few things. It must be better than wondering aimlessly around the palace.” 

Against his better judgement, perhaps, Jimin had accepted. Whatever his feelings were towards you, he was sick of wondering aimlessly. He missed his little cottage and he was beginning to grow sick of the giant, draft-y Central Palace. Any change to the lethargic rhythm of his days, even if it meant spending the day with you, was a welcome one.

And you were right. Wintertime is more than coldness and death. As the ruler of Spring, he had always thought of it as such- after all, it has always been his duty to remedy the devastation left behind by Winter. But Winter is also a time of festivities- of huddling in the warmth of a fire along side your family. Its catching snowflakes on your tongue and children laughing as they skate over frozen lakes and form little ice sculptures from snow. He hadn’t known it until he spent those three months with you. And after that first day where you had taken him out to a frozen lake close to the palace and shown him how to ice skate, spending time with you had become more of a regular occurrence. 

Which brings him to today.

“I’m not stuck with her.” Is what Jimin finally says to Haeun, who deflates, just slightly. He does not explain any further- he’s not sure he can. He certainly doesn’t feel the burden of obligation that had weighted his every step when he first married you. He perhaps even misses you, after three months of separation. It’s all a little scary and confusing but all he knows for sure is that being married to you is no longer the offensive chore he initially viewed it as. 

This time when Jimin turns away, she does not stop him. He is relieved- he is sick of hearing Haeun speak so disrespectfully about you. He’s sick of the way servants whisper in the halls when you walk past. He’s sick of the way travellers tell stories of evil Winter, who takes lives for fun and revels in the cruelty of her blizzards. He doesn’t know why, given that it has only been six months since he married you, and three whole months since he even last saw you in person, but he feels a strange protectiveness towards you. Just the thought of those whispers when he knows of you, curled up beneath the security of a warm blanket on the hearth, with the fire’s glow highlighting your features, still studying away even after a full days’ worth of royal duties so that you can learn to control your powers makes his heart ache. He wishes, just once, that he had been brave enough to curl up beside you and to listen to the steady sound of your breathing, the rhythmic turn of a page, the crackle of the fire’s warmth. Or brave enough to hush the terrible whispers. Anything to wipe that expression you get on your face when you know people are thinking unpleasant things about you. That guarded, reserved expression that he knows is concealing a broken heart.

“My Lord!” Jimin hears a voice call, and he almost curses. He wants nothing more than to return to his quarters and begin packing up. It has now been six months since he has been in his actual home, and when he received that letter from you a week ago informing him that you had taken up residence in his home, he had only been more eager to return. He wants to know what his home looks like with you in it. He wants to know what you look like in the brightness of Summer, away from the grief and cold of Winter. He wants to see you again to the point it is almost alarming. “My Lord!” The voice calls again, and one of the servants skids to a stop before Jimin. It is Namjoon. Jimin recalls his name because Namjoon is one of the few servants you are rather fond of. 

“Hello, Namjoon.” Jimin greets warmly, and Namjoon looks surprised and delighted at the sound of his name. “How can I be of service?”

Namjoon is slightly out of breath, and he reaches for the pocket of his trousers, fishing around until he produce a single crumpled piece of paper. 

“It is a letter from Winter.” Namjoon says. “She asked me to relay to you that she will not be attending the Equinox Ball and that she shall see you tomorrow at the your domain.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen and he quickly snatches the paper from Namjoon’s hand. He does not mean to be quite so aggressive with his movements, but he is shaken at the way you have abruptly cancelled. Without even realising it, he had hyped himself up at the thought of seeing you again after a long three months. 

It’s a lengthy apology, neatly written and well-articulated. It basically gives an entire, eloquent list of flimsy excuses as to why you should not attend. 

But Jimin sees straight through it. Perhaps in the past, he would have let it be. Let you sit at home and then awkwardly greet you in his cottage the next morning. But now that he knows the way your expression shutters when people mutter rude things under their breath about you, now that he knows the way you lie awake at night, haunted by grief and guilt, he knows that you are running away. After all, the whispers had only gotten worse after your marriage- the Evil Queen of Winter shackling the charming and kind King of Spring is certainly quite the tale to set tongues wagging. 

And while Jimin hates the thought of you spending an evening in discomfort when there are about a thousand better ways for you to spend your time, he hates the thought of people thinking of his marriage to you as a tragic event even more. He wants to stroll into the ballroom with your hand in his, to proudly show off that he is not some tragic heroine trapped in a loveless marriage to an evil overlord. He wants people to see you, your kindness and your sweetness. He wants people to realise that Winter can be even warmer than Summer sometimes, in the right circumstances. 

“Is she currently in my domain?” Jimin asks softly, but he knows from the floral, woodsy scent of the paper that it was written in his home. Namjoon hesitates before offering an awkward nod. 

“I believe so.” He admits. “The messenger who brought the letter was one of the keepers of your orchard.” 

Jimin nods, tonguing thoughtfully at the inside of his cheek. A well-cared for horse would allow him to reach his home within a couple of hours. He keeps his own horses at the cottage who would be able to take the two of you back in time for nightfall. He is to give a speech at the Ball and that will be his last official duty until next year. And for whatever reason, he does not want to give the speech if you are not there, amongst the crowd. It’s still possible if he leaves now.

“Ready a horse for me, Namjoon,” Jimin finally says, shoving the letter into the pocket of his trousers. He’ll have to change into gear more appropriate for a long ride. 

“But, my liege, the ball-“ Namjoon protests. 

“I’ll be there.” Jimin reassures him, though his expression is grim. “And so will my wife.”

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice.

++

Jimin has really, truly missed his home. Nothing quite compares to it. When they had first identified him as heir to the throne of Spring, the Elders had initially planned for him to stay in the castle inhabited by his predecessors. After all, since he did in theory bear their spirit, the castle should technically be to his tastes. 

But he guess he differs to his previous incarnations, since he only lasted a few weeks before he moved into the cottage his parents owned close to the castle. It’s not unusual for tastes to change like that with different incarnations of Spring- though he feels that he can recall their previous lifetimes if he thinks very hard about it, they are different people and incarnations. The only traits he shares with those who had gone before is his power over the season of Spring.

Perhaps that is why, despite the fact that previous Springs have deeply loved Summer, he cannot stop thinking about Winter. Especially as the edge of the orchard draws into view. 

Oddly, you aren’t in the cottage when he enters. There’s evidence that you’ve been staying there- some of your books are scattered over his work desk and the gardening implements around the back of the cottage are shifted around as if someone has been sorting through them. But it does not take long to locate you deep in the orchard, crouched beneath the orange tree. You don’t seem to have registered his presence yet given that you continue to mutter to yourself as you stab aggressively at the soil with a tiny hand shovel he recognises from the implements he keeps around the back of his cottage.  

He’s about to confront you, but the sight of you, crouched down and wearing oversized trousers and an ugly, soil covered shirt he recognises from the very back of his wardrobe, has him completely frozen. It’s hard to explain the emotion- a powerful, roaring wave crashing down on the peaceful shorelines of his heart. 

“(Y/N),” your name comes in a exhale of his breath, one that’s not entirely voluntary. It’s his mistake though, because you were absolutely not anticipating his presence, and you leap about a metre in the air in your shock. 

Stumbling back a few steps in a sort of awkward crab walk, revealing your handy work. A small hole you had been digging and a handful of withered, lifeless daffodils. 

“J-Jimin,” you stutter, and your accidental use of his name when you had previously only referred to him as Spring has his heart racing in his chest for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. “T-this isn’t what it looks like!” You cry. “I was just...”

It takes a moment, but Jimin manages to shake himself out of the trance long enough to realise that the withered and lifeless daffodils just so happen to be his favourite flowers from

his front garden. Immediately, whatever mysterious emotion that had overcome him prior is replaced by abject horror. 

“My daffodils!” He cries, stricken with grief. And they had been so young, as well! Such lovely, bright blooms, withered and dried up! Abruptly, you scramble to your feet and dust the soil from your hands and knees, scrambling towards him. 

“I was just trying to water them!” You cry, hands outstretched in an attempt to calm him in his distress. “I don’t have any flowers in my domain since the ground is not very fertile and I was just trying to tend to them!”

“They’re dead!” Jimin points out. “How much did you water them?”

You pause, shrinking under his gaze, before holding up ten fingers. 

“Ten?” Jimin asks, and you nod. “Ten what?” 

You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch. He steps closer in an attempt to decipher your sheepish mumblings. 

“What?” Jimin asks, and you sigh before fixing him with a steady glare. 

“Ten buckets!” You cry. “I asked your gardener and she told me that these are fickle plants that require constant moisture!”

“So you watered them with ten buckets of water? You drowned my daffodils!” He cries. You deflate, just slightly, glancing forlornly at the fallen remains of his beloved babies. He’d so carefully tended to them as well! They were just reaching the point where he could lift the buds and replant them. There’s a nice sunny spot at the back of the orchard that they would have thrived in, and now... and now... 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You finally offer, stepping forward to comfortingly pat at his shoulder. “They lived a good life, under your care,” you continue. “And once you finish off your duties at the Equinox Ball tonight I’m sure you can...” You trail away slowly, and the hand stroking his shoulder slows its pats. And then you gasp in horror when you register that Jimin is here, in his orchard, grieving over some dead daffodils instead of finalising preparations for the Equinox Ball. “Jimin!” You cry. “The Ball! How can you be here? You’re supposed to be preparing for the Ball.”

“Well,” Jimin snaps, perhaps a bit more grumpy than the situation really warranted, but you also killed his lovely daffodils. “I am supposed to be there, but my lovely wife decided she’d much rather kill my daffodils and hide the evidence instead of attend the Ball as is her duty!”

You flush, a shade that he can’t help notice is a rather endearing shade despite everything. Dimly, he recalls that overwhelming feeling he’d experienced when he first saw you earlier, but he pushes it down. There are more pressing matters to attend to- his daffodils can be given a proper burial later.

“Yes, well, as you read in my letter, I thought it would be far better for me to-“ you begin, clearing your throat awkwardly as you often do before giving a formal address. It only irks him further that you’re placating him as if he’s a random parliament member who needs coddling or a foreign emissary you have to charm. He’s your husband and he’s sick of people- you included- pretending otherwise. 

“You’re running away.” He offers quietly, and your eyes widen. Perhaps you had been expecting him to dance around the bushes. After all, three months ago during Winter, though you had grown undeniably closer, there had always been the feeling of treading on eggshells around each other. Like neither of you really knew how to react together. But a lot has changed, in three months. Jimin has had three months to overthink and to pretend he doesn’t know the name for the feelings of longing he can’t shake off and to deny that he misses you and now that you’re finally here in front of him, he does not want to waste another second. 

That crashing, roaring wave in his heart will not quieten, and finally he gives it a platform to pour out. 

“You’re scared. I get that. You don’t know what you’re feeling and everyone and their mother seems to have an opinion on our marriage and maybe you think it will be easier if you stay out of the public eye,” Jimin tells you urgently. He steps forward as if he is approaching a startled deer. “But it won’t be. They won’t ever stop. So why let them dictate what makes you happy?” 

You just stare at him, speechless, and he takes your silence as permission to step a little closer. Every movement he makes is slow and steady- you have to option to pull away at any moment. He stretches out a hand, wraps his fingers around yours and then raises your hand slowly towards his heart, letting you rest your palm flat against the thrumming rhythm. 

“I missed you.” They aren’t the words he intended to say. He’s not even entirely sure what words he had planned to convince you to come with him. But those words are the ones that burst forth. He can’t hold back anymore. He feels like he’s spent three whole months trying to prevent a volcano from erupting, and he’s exhausted. He can’t hold back anymore, he can’t keep up the facade that he’s ok, when you took his heart with you when you agreed to move out of the Central Palace at the request of the Elders three months ago. “I want you to be at the Ball with me. If we leave now, we can make it. Please- do this with me.” He begs. 

He’s met with silence. The longer it stretches out, the more dread slowly filters into his heart. It takes him a long few moments, but when he finally gains the courage to gaze upon your expression, his heart drops into his feet. 

Tears pour over your cheeks. You’re normally so put-together, but with your guard down in his absence, dirt smidges your cheeks and the sun gilds your skin. You’re so heart achingly beautiful. It’s like the sensation of stone giving way, the way he feels a crevice form in his heart at the sight.

“Jimin,” you finally say, and your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t...”

You trail away, but it’s enough. He feels a bit like you’ve slapped him. He’d thought... he’d thought it had been the both of you struggling in your separation, but it seems it was only him. He’s a fool- how could be have ever thought he was strong enough to thaw the frozen heart of Winter? 

“Right.” He says, humiliated by the way his voice cracks. “Well. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Duty calls.”

He turns on his heel so that you can’t see the way tears sting at the back of his eyes. 

You don’t stop him as he leaves. 

++

The Queen of Winter is a dignified woman. Tucked far away in her fortress, the common folk speculate that she does not have a heart. 

For a long time, you’d thought maybe it was true, but this constant ache in your chest is proving otherwise. 

“Are you just going to watch him go?” Yoongi, your personal guard, asks lazily. He is reclined in one of the cosy arm chairs in the centre of Jimin’s cottage, munching away at one of the apples he stole from the tree at the front of the cottage. You spare him a glance over your shoulder, before returning your gaze to the cantering horse that moves further and further away with each passing moment. 

“What else can I do?” You finally ask, tearing your gaze from the window and settling into the chair opposite Yoongi. Unlike him, you sit neatly, with your knees pressed together and your ankles tucked delicately to the side. Yoongi shrugs, crunching through another mouthful of apple. 

“Well you could have said no one was home when Summer knocked on your door last week like I suggested. But no. You had to invite her in and make her tea and let her get under your skin and now here we are, missing the feast of the year so that you can sulk.” He grumbles, crunching a bit more aggressively. Normally, Yoongi is a placid, lethargic sort of guy, but he’s been grumpy ever since Haeun showed up unannounced last week. Well, actually, he’s been like this ever since you received the order from the Elders to vacate the Central Palace in case you disturbed the prosperity of the oncoming Spring. After all, their plan had worked- having Jimin stay with you in the Central Palace had been enough to curb your Winter, but they didn’t want to offset his powers of Spring. 

“Yoongi,” you begin tiredly, ready to feed him the same ridiculous lines about your duty and your out of control powers that you’re sick of saying, but he cute you off. 

“No.” He snaps, the most forceful he’s ever been with you in perhaps his entire life. “You listen to me.” 

You’re too surprised by his aggression to retort, which gives him the opportunity to launch off in a furious tirade. 

“You finally had a good thing going for you. Finally someone who didn’t blame you for your Winters, someone who was kind and made you smile for the first time in literal years, and now you want me to sit here and accept that a cantankerous, overheated she-witch has the power to take that way with a couple of weak and not very witty jibes?” He demands. “What happened to the Queen of Winter? The woman who ate hearts for breakfast and drank the blood of her victims as wine?”

“She never existed.” You frown. “I faint when i accidentally kill a mosquito-“

“But you let those rumours circulate. You never tried to correct them because you never gave a damn about the small fry, so why are you letting some over-baked half-wit get to you?” He demands, pointing an accusing, half-eaten apple in your direction. 

You are silent as you recall the encounter the previous week. You had just finished penning a letter to Jimin to inform him you were looking forward to meeting with him when he returned to his cottage, when there had been an unexpected banging on the door. 

Haeun and you have never had a good relationship. Instinctively, Summer and Winter are on opposite ends of the spectrum, but she’d also always loathed the way your powers ran wild. After your cold, unforgiving Winters, she always had to burn hotter, and more intensely during the Summer to compensate, and it probably took its toll on her. And to add insult to injury, you had married the love of her life at the request of the Elders. The knowledge that you had taken something so important from her had been why you couldn’t just slam the door in her face even though Yoongi had gestured for you to do so just out of her view. 

He’s usually right though, since he’s quite gifted at reading people, and he was right that you should have kicked her out then and there.  Haeun had nothing but poison to spill forth from her lips.

Logically, you know the things she was saying were said with the intent to hurt you. Jimin had proved his kindness and warmth again and again during the three months you had lived together and it had even started to reach the point where it felt like he was your real husband. Not just an assigned keeper with the legal right to receive your belongings if you one day died. It felt like he actually cared- the way he sat with you on long, cold nights, the secret smiles he offered over breakfast, the way he left tea outside your bedroom door when he knew you had been up late studying. 

Jimin had done the impossible, warming the cold, frozen tundra your heart had lived in, and what you long for in return is to be the person who brings warmth to his Winters. Who holds him in the cold. Who rejoices with him in the bright months of Summer. You’d spent the whole of Spring in a joyful, happy cloud, remembering the way your Winter had been gentle and soft for the first time in your whole life. 

And then you’d heard what Haeun had to say. 

“I’m just concerned.” She had told you, dress in a dainty Summer dress that allowed the warm Spring sun to warm her shoulders. She always wears loud, cheerful colours and on that day she had worn a bright yellow to match the daffodils you had desperately been trying to keep alive. “I’m only saying this because I know you care about him too, and I would want to know this if I were in your shoes.”

Yoongi had been watching the whole exchange with an expression on his face like he’d swallowed a sour lemon and he had rolled his eyes when she’d said that. And yet, you hadn’t been able to approach her words with the same disdain. 

“You know how beloved Spring is. For him to be wedded to you is causing a lot of distress within the kingdom! And the things people are saying about him- that he’s bewitched by your enchantments, that he’s weak-willed and unworthy to lead.” She gazes at you with a glare and the hardest part of all this is that she’s telling the truth. She really came here out of a sense of duty to Jimin because she wants you to stop interfering with his life. “Why couldn’t you have just learned to use your powers instead of turning his life upside down like this?”

And hadn’t that been the final nail in the coffin. Even now, a week later, you are still reeling from her words. It had been with a heavy heart you had decided not to make an appearance at the Ball. 

But you hadn’t expected this to happen- for it to hurt just as much to refuse Jimin’s request to go with him. Why does it hurt both way? Why is it that if you have him, you ruin his life, but if you reject him, he looks at you like that? Like you’ve betrayed him? Like you’ve set fire to his orchard before his very eyes?

“Because I love him.” You admit to Yoongi. He chokes for a moment, surprised by your admission, before staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You what?” He demands, and you offer him a weak smile. 

“I love him, Yoongi.” You say again, and Yoongi’s gaze softens because he’s known you since you were a child in the Central Palace for the first time and he’s never seen such warmth in your eyes. You aren’t the Queen of Winter for nothing. “I love him so much I don’t know what to do and I just feel like no matter what choice I make it hurts.”

You hate the way your voice chokes, and Yoongi lifts from his chair, walking over to you to rest a warm hand over your own. 

“So if your choices are being hurt and miserable and being hurt and happy, why not choose the path that has at least a little bit of good in it?” Yoongi asks you gently. You stare at him, surprised, and he offers you a grin. “There’s a dress in your wardrobe with your name on it and if we leave now we should make it in time for Spring’s Official Address.” He tells you, straightening and stretching out with a yawn. “Better go get my riding boots.” He sighs. 

For a moment, you are frozen at Yoongi’s words, but then slowly a grin splits your face. 

He’s right. Both choices hurt- so why not choose the one where you get to be with Jimin? 

You gaze out the window at where the Sun is just beginning to sink into late afternoon. 

You have a Ball to get to. 

++

Jimin isn’t sure how he’s made it this far into the night. He feels like he’s just hollowly going through the motions and it’s a wonder that no one has picked up that he feels like he’s walking around with a stomach full of glass shards. If he’d known a broken heart hurt this much, he’d have long ago cast aside his heart to save himself the pain. 

“Are you excited?” Haeun questions cheerfully. She wears a long, golden dress that shimmers and catches the lights of the chandelier overhead as she moves. Her hair is carefully braided over her left shoulder, leaving her collar bones and delicate throat exposed. Yet the sight of the daffodil flower crown woven into her hair atop her head just seems to mock him. 

“I suppose.” He answers, with an empty smile. Haeun beams in response. She’s in an awfully good mood today and it only seems to worsen his own mood. “I’m ready for a nine month break from my duty.”

She offers him a bright laugh, and the two of them are interrupted by a firm clap against Jimin’s shoulder. He winces and turns to find Taehyung beaming at him. 

“Hello, brother!” He says cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you since the start of Spring! How is your lovely wife? I was just thinking I should pop over to visit her and then I learned that she wasn’t in her domain. Imagine my surprise when I head that she’s been staying in the Spring domain for the past three months. I trust the marriage is going well?” He questions, with a suggestive waggle of his strong brows. 

Jimin is unable to stop his expression from falling. All night, he’s managed to at least keep up a facade that he’s ok, but those words hit just a little bit too hard. He just and quickly slips the false smile back onto his face, but the King of Autumn has always been quick-witted, and he does not miss the devastation on Jimin’s face. 

“Jimin?” He asks slowly. Haeun looks a little confused at the slow, careful tone of Taehyung’s voice and at the use of Jimin’s name. “Is everything alright?”

Jimin offers him another hollow smile but he is saved the effort of lying when his advisor comes rushing over. 

“My Lord!” Seokjin cries. “It is time for your address! Please hurry to the stage.” He clicks his tongue a few times, corralling Jimin towards the stage. 

He supposes it is now or never. 

The tradition for the handover of Spring to Summer is fairly straight forward- at the Ball, Jimin is to deliver an address, celebrating the prosperity of Spring and wishing Summer well for her season. It’s usually one of his favourite duties- to gaze upon the faces of his subjects, to know that his words kickstart a weeklong festival where people will dance in the streets and sing with joy at the arrival of their long awaited Summer. But today, he feels as if he is made of wood as he takes the stage. 

“I thank you all for coming,” he begins. A simple spell cast upon the stage allows his voice to be amplified so that everyone can hear him. “As you all know, this particular Spring has been a big one for me. I have spent not three, but six whole months in the Central Palace, overseeing the seasons.” He offers a fake cheeky smile. “Safe to say I’m a little homesick.” That earns him a little chuckle for he is infamous for his simple and modest home. “But it has been my most triumphant Spring yet, because I...” 

No one is more surprised than him at the way his words seem to fail him. 

“Because I...” he tries again, but the words are choked off and the audience starts to murmur in confusion. 

He can’t do it- he can’t fake happiness and merriment. Not when you aren’t even here. Not when you had been the source of his happiness for the last six months. 

“Because...”

And then the doors to the ballroom swing open and he gazes upon the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. 

You wear a floor length gown. As is custom, your dress matches your season, shimmering blue with diamonds cast upon it that catch the light and dance like floating snowflakes. You hair falls around your face, flushed with exertion and your eyes are bright, even from across the room. 

An eerie hush falls upon the room. No one has ever seen Winter so dishevelled; and yet she is by no means ugly or unappealing. No, in fact, for years after people will sing songs about your beauty this night- how your eyes shine brighter than the stars in the sky and how your smile holds a joy no one had ever thought you capable of. 

Slowly, you step towards him. The crowd parts around you, and yet it is like you are the only person in the room. Even if he had wanted to speak, he would have been incoherent. The roaring feeling in his heart is now a tsunami- he’s swept away. He’s in love beyond what he ever thought was capable. He loves you- he loves you!!

“Jimin,” you say, smiling sweetly when you finally stop in front of him. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

And then you kiss him, bold and happy, in front of the entire ballroom and Jimin feels his heart may explode. 

++

There is, of course, much to discuss after your arrival to the Ball. Haeun’s words- your fears and insecurities- Jimin’s own feelings. There is so much to discuss and yet that night, Jimin is only capable of one thing. After his address finishes, he holds you in his arms as the two of you sway in a gentle waltz. He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head and he feels you smile into the crook of his neck. 

There is so much to say, and so much to do, but the two of you have your whole lives together to discuss it.

#jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts fluff #jimin fluff #park jimin scenarios #writing

[thechangeling]

Ok so a conversation @littlx-songbxrd and I were having made me remember something I was ranting about to a friend of mine once.

Brace yourselves this is going to be long. I'm sorry.

The sexism, homophobia and racism of the shadoworld straight up doesn't make sense and here's why. So if we start chronologically with the infernal devices. There is sexism towards Charlotte right? People don't want her running the institute and they don't want her becoming the consul because she is a woman. But the Clave has no problem letting women train and fight. This doesn't really make sense in my opinion.

Now you could argue that it's because they believe woman can be string capable fighters just not rational thinkers. Which is weird because in my experience you don't meet a lot of people who are "partially sexist" in that way. Like if a man believes a woman can't do high profile, high paying jobs then they usually also don't want them in the military. Anyways moving on, there aren't any mentions of homophobia in TID, mostly because they're arent any queer characters except Magnus and Woolsey.

But something interesting to point out is that none of the characters who know about Magnus and Woolsey ever comment on it really. And following this point, none of the mains display any signs of misogyny either really. (Except for what Will says to Tessa at the end of CA but that was because of the "curse.") You could argue that this is because they're the protagonists so they are supposed to be better then that. But accidental microaggressions are pretty common especially during that time period. More on that later.

Moving onto racism, this is the interesting part. Jem says to Tessa that shadowhunters believe that you are a shadowhunter first and your nationality or eace second. Actually Jem doesnt mention race but he says this while talking about being half Chinese so it's kinda relevant. Shadowhunters rarely tall about race throughout the books in general except for a few instances. When Jessamine criticizes Jem to Tessa, she calls him a foreigner and says some other racist shit that I can't really remember. Something about the yin fin and calling him lazy. That directly contradicts Jem's statement about them all being shadowhunters first. Also Will and Jem actually constantly talk about being Welsh and Chinese in the books so that statement is kinda bogus in general.

And if CC didn't want her mains being sexist or homophobic to show them as good people then why was it ok for both Jesse and Gabriel to say questionable shit about Jem? Anyways moving on to TLH. Sexism is still running rampid with their cultural customs and people being shitty about Charlotte being consul. Bots have to ask the girls to dance, girls cannot have sex before marriage or else they will be ruined or whatever you know the drill. But again, they let the girls fight. Cordelia is allowed to carry around a giant ass sword but she can't get some????

IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE CASSANDRA!!!!!

Sorry I'm losing it. Anyways. Regarding racism. Alastair and Cordelia have experienced micro aggressions from the mains (Matthew and Anna) but it's never addressed. I'm pretty sure if memory serves, the inquisitor makes a nasty comment under his breath about persians when the Carstairs family sans Elias arrive. And then we have the whitewashing of Ariadne/Kamala by her parents.

But none of this stuff ever gets brought up really. Exceot for Kamala talking about her past and who she was before and sharing her original name, but she still doesn't talk about how it effects her potential coming out. Alastair doesnt mention race when he talks about the bullying he went through at the academy and none of the white characters ever stop to think about how Kamala and Alastsir's races play a part in their crappy situations.

There's probably more I could discuss with this but I'm moving on to homophobia. It's a thing in terms of the heteronormativity and people's judgement of Anna but it's not illegal like in mundane societies at this time. But all of the mains are totally cool with it which brings me to, I'm sorry but fucking bullshit! There is no way every single adult would be totally fine with it in this time period. Like I'm not saying outright homophobia but maybe some questionable comments you know? (CC is perpetuating this idea that good people never commit microaggressions which is untrue and harmful.)

I don't think there's any mention of whether or not gay marriage is allowed in the shadowhunter world at this point. Because the issues surrounding Magnus and Alec getting married were about Magnus being a warlock right? Because Helen and Aline got married before them in TFTSA because she was only half fae. So that brings me to when was gay marriage legalized in the shadow world?????

Is there any mention of this because I don't think there is? Anyways moving onto TMI. This is where everything goes to absolute shit in terms of world building with the standards for these things. Misogyny isn't really a problem in tmi anymore from what I remember. Nobody has issues with Jia as consul (from what I remember,) and that's that. But homophobia is still rambid throughout shadowhunter society so much so that Alec is terrified to come out because he believes that he can't be gay and be a shadowhunter in peoples eyes. Also there is pressure to "carry on the family name" which doesn't make sense because if the sexism has died out then women can have babies with whoever and not even be married and carry on their family line. And not everyone needs to have children, ergo there is less pressure on the sons to carry on the family name or whatever. This also doesn't make sense because homophobia literally cannot exist without sexism!!!!

This is because of colonial gender roles being forced on society. And men being with men and women being with woman totally smashes the whole gender roles, "woman do this and men do that" idea. There's more that I could say on that but this is already so freaking long so please just look it up. And speaking of gender roles it's literally mentioned that Maryse didn't teach Izzy to cook because she didn't want her to be forced into a housewife role like she was (although there's no evidence to suggest she was?) But then Maryse is lowkey homophobic?

It doesn't make sense Cassandra!!!!!

CC doesn't get that you literally don't have homophobia or transphobia without sexism. Indigenous societies pre-colonization didn't care about any of that stuff. Literally two spirit people were revered and respected and no one gave a fuck about gender until my ancestors literally came along and ruined everything. (I'm so sorry.)

But anyways there's no mentions of racism amongst the shadowhunters in tmi. Just Maia talking about her experiences with mundane society as a black girl. When Clary confronts Valentine and basically calls him a n*zi, he laughs at her and basically says that shadowhunters don't see race the way mundanes do which yikes @ CC. Granted this was 2007. This kind of sounds like what Jem said in TID. Only it clearly wasnt true.

Anyways I'm just super confused at this point. In TDA there was basically nothing in terms of all the isms and phobias. (Oh we arent even discussing ableism because my fucking head will explode!) But we do discuss transphobia a bit with Diana. But again it doesn't make fucking sense because transphobia exists because of sexism and clear gender roles (and homophobia.)

Society is still shown to be pretty heteronormative though which I guess makes sense but the Blackthorns have multiple queers in their family! You would think that they would be less so. When Livvy mentions all the reasons that Annabel could have a forbidden love she doesnt even think to mention that it could be a lesbian relationship. When Mark finds out that Jaime was in Dru's room he freaks out but I guarentee you, he wouldn't have if Jaime was a girl. I mean you could argue that it's an age thing and not a gender thing but idk. That scene always bothered the fuck out of me. Because Mark is literally half fae like why is he caught up on bullshit "boys and girls can't just be friends" hetero bullshit.

In QOAAD we see Dane Larksoear being sexist so randomly for no reason. Like it's so strange because CC literally created a caricature of a sexist villian with him. And it makes no sense because no one else seems to feel the way he does. Like Zara is basically the leader of the cohort right? And nobody gives a fuck. It makes no damn sense Cassandra!

And finally, why is the faerie world sexist with gender roles WHEN EVERYONE IS LITERALLY BISEXUAL AND THEY'RE FAERIES CASSANDRA!!!???? THEY'RE LITERALLY FAERIES WHY IS THERE A CONCEPT OF GENDER AT ALL CASSANDRA????!!!!

Ok lol now I'm done. Sorry this is so long. But yeah I'm so confused.

Tldr: CC's world building in regards to sexism, homophobia, racism and transphobia is very inconsistent and contradictory and it makes no damn sense.

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #tlh #twp #the wicked powers #the last hours #tmi #tid #tw mentions of transphobia #tw mentions of racism #tw mentions of homophobia #tw mentions of sexism #anti cc #long post

[lochsides]

Yellow Metal - cathartic Review

Here’s something I did not expect to be reviewing this week but when Zayn drops a 24 minute rap track, you fall in line. I had to listen to it a couple times through before I could even begin to make sense of my thoughts because my brain sort of malfunctioned. I have never been prouder to be a Zayn fan. He’s such a nuanced songwriter and there is so much to unpack here.

I think this is the most unfiltered version of Zayn that we have ever been exposed to (and possibly will ever be). I am grateful that he said his piece in this because it needed to be said. As a brown woman, I felt so seen by this and I cannot explain what that means to me. Thank you Z, for your unvarnished truth in addressing racism and various forms of discrimination.

I’m doing a short lyrical analysis below the cut, but the TLDR is that this is a fantastic piece of art that deserves to be heard.

I wish he had released this as an EP because that would be easier to review than a single 24 minute song, structurally speaking. So instead, I have picked out some key lyrics, going from top to bottom, that really spoke to me and decided to study the song that way. His lyricism is hard-hitting in this track. It is beyond anything he has ever released before.

“The planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving until we ascend so fuck the fence.” — I have not seen this lyric being talked about in the fandom, because the lyrics that follow this steal the show, rightly so, but I wanted to give this line a moment because it’s important too. To me, this lyric speaks to where Zayn is at with his relationship with the physical world. He’s out on the farm (about which he even goes to say “tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor”) and I believe he’s happy in his space and he feels connected to nature (also see River Road). So it is a poignant and slightly jaded, but valid perspective that he shares on climate change. It’s never leaving until we ascend. The damage human beings have done to the planet won’t be undone until there are no humans left to do damage. It’s a single sentence that says so much about the depth of the climate crisis. I’m doing my PhD on urban air quality so this is something I care really deeply about and I resonated with.

“And until they stop killing colour, it’s fuck the feds.” — Yeah, agreed Zayn. The systemic racism that he calls out here is echoed throughout the song, in equal parts anger and boldness. I love that he isn’t glossing over it with metaphors, which he could easily do and it would be beautiful in a totally different way, but this makes it harder for racists to overlook. There is so much power in calling it like it is.

“Never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a Benadryl, keeping it green in general.” — It frustrates me to no end to see Zayn painted as this drug-addicted lazy musician that doesn’t care about his work, because we know how untrue that is. This narrative is tired and simply boring too, and I won’t get into the racist connotations of it when you consider it against his white colleagues who smoke as much as him but that isn’t one of their defining traits in the media.

“I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work … it was hard work that got me heard” — I love the juxtaposition in this verse. The public/media perception on his career is that Zayn doesn’t put in effort or that he doesn’t want it. This obviously stems from his leaving the band. It goes back to what I was saying before about narrative, when in reality, as Zayn has said on various occasions, he fights to make his own choices. And that doesn’t have to look the way everyone else expects it to (“I beg you, don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt”), he has his own struggles that have helped forge his path, but it is his path that he paved, himself. He works hard to be heard. He has to. It reminds me of something my parents used to tell me when I was younger about being immigrants: you have to work 10 times harder for the same opportunities just because of the colour of your skin or your name on the cv. It’s a harsh truth to grow up with but it was my reality, as it is for most POC.

“This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm you. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here ‘til they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80…” — There is something about the simplicity of these lyrics are the messaging that I love. He isn’t trying too hard to sound poetic but he still manages it perfectly.

“All I've been achieving, clocking miles in this region, moving like a legion. Promise that I made to myself, an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving? Staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving. // I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy. It’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on the mike.” — This is the only 1D-related lyric I’ll make reference to because this song is about so much more than that. That said though, we cannot overlook Zayn’s experiences in the band because that is part of his story. The tongue-in-cheek of “I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving” is hilarious to me. The line about not wanting to be his own enemy anymore and growing up from 17 reminds me of that quote Taylor (Swift) mentioned in Miss Americana about celebrities getting stuck at the age they got famous. I think this verse is similar to that. None of them ever wanted to be in the band and I don’t care what anyone says, Zayn leaving and proving success outside the band gave the rest of them the courage to follow their own solo careers. Sure there was drama surrounding the split but he did it for himself, to tell his stories the way he is now. Whatever else you have to say about him, you cannot deny his authenticity.

“I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane.” — I think this line tells us 2 things, the first being that this song was not leaked. Z knew what he was doing and his twitter likes tell us as much. He didn’t release it for any sort of attention, otherwise it would be widely available on streaming platforms and for purchase. Which leads to my second point, he released this song to get everything he talks about on the track off his chest. Its referenced in other lyrics too, like “now you see where I come from, the world don’t.” This was for whoever cared to listen, not the world. It’s inaccessible for a reason. I love that he threw those lyrics in. It makes the song feel more like a private conversation or listening to a friend rant. It creates a different form of intimacy between himself and his fans.

“Lessons that I’ve learned, I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself. So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt.” — This one is for anyone that buys into conspiracy theories surrounding Zayn’s personal life. He surrounds himself with real people, real friendships, real connections. I have never bought into the bullshit that he has zero autonomy over his personal life. I love the use of plastic melting as a metaphor for ridding his life of fakeness.

“Feeling trapped. This industry is a cage.” — Zayn is obviously not the first person to say it. Many artists talk about how suffocating the industry is ( which he further comments on in the sung portion: “I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this”). Fame is such a wild and unnatural concept and the exploitation and politics of the music industry only feed further into it. The industry being a cage makes me think of zoos and how celebrities are animals on display, when they should be free in the wild. I also really like the musical interlude following this part.

“Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views.” — Zayn toes the line between keeping to himself and speaking out on important issues, sometimes not very well. I am his biggest cheerleader, but I’m not up his ass. There have been many occasions where he could’ve done better. But I cannot fault him for being offended by the State because same, Z, same. I love that he took this song as an opportunity to real speak out, no punches pulled.

“See I’ve been facing the racists from back when I were a kiddie. Born up in 93’. Living in Bradford City, they kicked me out of the school. Said they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p***, still sit in the classroom, chilling. I’m angry now that I’m older cause I see they treat us different. Got me thinking I’m the problem ‘cause they never dealt with these issues.” — See what I meant about no punches pulled. He said that! He said it like that too. There is so much in this verse that I relate to, it hits a little too deep. I grew up as a brown in predominantly white communities where the colour of my skin was the reason I was outcasted. We know when that’s happening, clear as day. The lyric “got me thinking that I’m the problem cause they never dealt with these issues” says it all. I have many racial traumas that I’m dealing with as an adult because the adults around me when I was a child didn’t deal with racism in the classroom. They do treat us different!

“20 years later, I’m still in the same boat. Tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for. Man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? // Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them. ‘Boy your skin is so light.’ Ok motherfucker, take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.” — Zayn talking his shit is my new favourite art form. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? Something that I will always be enraged by is that POC are expected to de-escalate situations of racism. We have to push our feelings down, as Zayn says in the verse, because the institution is against us. All of the institutions are against us. The fact that he takes it a step farther to say that his name makes him a target for racism, even though he is half-white just nails his point home. Also, can we please quit the whole ‘Zayn is white-passing’ bullshit. He alludes to it again later in the song (“asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define”). Its not a compliment to erase someone identity in favour of white-washing them.

“My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” — Oh, the amount of times we have heard that age old (v. racist) saying ‘{celebrity of colour} is the new [insert white celebrity here]’ as if POC aren’t allowed to succeed in their own right. It is wild to me that Zayn has to deal with this given his level of success.

“Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening. I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine.” — There is a subtle nod to racism (and Islamaphobia) in this line, because of course the brown man is a threat, but I like the way Z turns it around. I also like the rhyme scheme.

“Raised on the benefit for whose benefit? They’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.” — Okay I might be reaching here, but this is just my interpretation. We all know the benefit system in the UK sucks. Being raised on benefit implies a lack of money growing up, but the benefits aren’t really all that beneficial to the families that rely upon them.

“Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause I hit the nerve.” — Well, okay then, just call me out. It’s fine. I seriously feel like he’s talking to me directly with this line. I imagine a lot of us do. Its one of those lyrics that are a bit too honest but that why we love them.

“Cathartic, I’m an artist. Trying to put my heart in” // “Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name.” — So do we have an alternate persona for Zayn now? Alright, I’m down. I think these two lines are tied together, because both are mentioned in the song title. (I think of the song as cathartic, by Yellow Metal, aka Zayn, or Yellow Metal as the name of the EP if this was officially released). The lyrics that accompany both title lyrics, along with the subject matter of the song as a whole, suggest that his heart is in standing up against injustices. I said it earlier, this is the most unvarnished version of Z that we have ever been exposed to. Almost like the complete picture to the puzzle pieces we’ve been putting together over the years.

“They’re tryna kill us with disease.” — Why did this line scream out ‘COVID-19 outbreaks in developing countries’ to me? Again, I might be reaching, but there is a disparity between how COVID is treated amongst minorities, along with many other diseases, and not to mention rich, primarily white countries hoarding vaccine supplies while places like India (and my beautiful Bangladesh and I’m sure Pakistan too) suffer needlessly.

“Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next. Just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around ’til I’m the best.” — I think this lyric shows off Zayn’s sentimental side more than it does his ambitious side, because we know he’s in this for the long haul. Others may doubt that but his fans never have. But hearing him talk openly about being a father on a song is something else. It’s like Khai added this whole other layer of meaning and purpose to his life and it’s beautiful to watch. I’ve been here since the X-Factor auditions guys!! It makes me so emotional to witness him like this.

“Aint many of me around, p***, I’m just different. Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil, fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto.” — God, we’ve been waiting for a fuck the label moment in this house, haven’t we? I won’t get into my theories on his label or his team, but none of us deny the fact that they should be doing more for him than they are. He has the potential to be the biggest thing with the right team and promo because he has a built-in fan base that would go the mile for him. Obviously, there’s also his aversion to promo to contend with and that’s his decision. Even without it, he could shatter every ceiling. Another thing I want to mention about this verse is the nod to the complete lack of South Asian representation in contemporary Western media.

“Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse.” — I’m just putting this in here because it made giggle. Also going to take this space to say how much I love his energy in this song. He knows he’s the shit, as he should!

“Can’t be louder … so free Gaza on my banner.” // “They’re hating on Palestine ways.” — I love that Zayn has always supported this movement, years ago, before being ‘woke’ was a thing. But now, he has a daughter that has Palestinian heritage and I’m sure that makes this hit that much deeper for him, personally. The apartheid in Palestine is heart-wrenching. It’s so strange to me to watch it happen, because I never thought I would witness something like this happening in 2021, yet here we are.

“Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing. We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route. Say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown. I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.” — This verse is straight up savage and I am living for it! I find it hilarious that he called Biden a snake. This verse addresses the truth about politics, that even electing a left-wing leader doesn’t fix the system.

“I’m Tony Stark, still embarking on a dream” // “Gone green like Bruce Banner” // “He taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten.” — And to tie it all off, I wanted to take a goofy moment to mention all the superhero lyrics Z added in this song, really showing his personality because I’m such a nerd when it comes to this stuff and it makes me wish that we were friends so I could annoy him to death about it.

#reviews #zayn #yellow metal #cathartic #zayn malik

[adorascake]

Bright Moon’s and Catra’s albums & track descriptions!

Disclaimer: these are not meant to be *exactly* how i pictured their album covers to look like, but they are concepts, and i like them and wanted to share them<3 also, not all of the songs have descriptions because for some of them i just thought of a name and went “ooh pretty” and left it at that because i have a pea brain. you also need to read chapter 8 for context!

bright moon’s album: Until Tomorrow

theme: coming home

songs:

until tomorrow - kind of like “I’ll see you later my friend” vibes, and “I’ll miss you but we’ll be together always, no matter the place or distance”.

slow fall - falling in love slowly and not realizing it until you hit the ground.

marie antoinette - it sounds cool and glimmer probably has a sick drum solo in it that’s literally the only reason for this.

isn’t it wonderful? - being in a good place; feeling comfortable with yourself and feeling at home with your friends and all that; finally finding belonging and no longer being lost, wandering a barren desert

my dear - talking about how being in love with someone makes you want to wake up every day and call them “my dear” and other cute lovey-dopey nicknames that, if used by anyone else, would make you gag because ew PDA

heaven - all gay artists are required by law to have a song with nods to religion but in a reclaiming it kind of way because of religious trauma and it’s always super gay so yeah that’s what this is honestly.

bed - wanting to stay in bed all day and just be lazy and comfortable; being happy and not rushed at all; it’s very unusual because you’re the type to always be running around and never taking breaks, but now that you’ve met someone, all you want to do is to just stay in bed with them all day long under the warmth and safety of the covers; kind of like being in the “honeymoon phase”.

road trip - wanting to travel the world with your friends and those you love; also the feeling of just returning home and being happy wherever you are as long as you are with the people you love the most; you can travel thousands of miles, but you can make anywhere feel like home if the right people accompany you.

the skies are prettiest wherever you are - it’s relatively self explanatory; being in love and only seeing the beauty in things when the person you’re in love with is around; they make even the darkest of days beautiful and worthwhile.

campfire - not to be confused with the campfire song from spongebob

as long as we have each other ft. catra - holding onto your loved ones; making an unbreakable promise; everything will be alright if you have one another, and nothing bad can hurt you; the person you love is your home because you feel safe around them; meant to be a sister song to “nothing bad can happen” by catra ft. bright moon, a bonus track.

magic treehouse ft. catra - wanting to see the world with your best friend like you’re children again and thinking you could just teleport; escaping the problems of your own life to have fun with your best friend, creating a world of magic between the two of you that cannot be harmed by the outside world.

all this time (it was just you) - one of the songs by adora; it’s about catra and how adora realizes that catra is all she wants in the world, but she had been too blind to see it sometimes.

cottage by the ocean - one of the songs by adora; about wanting a peaceful life with catra where it’s like they are the only two people in the world and nothing else matters except them and their love; they live in a cottage by the ocean where they can collect sea shells and take walks along the water at sunset, just finally being happy and at peace and undisturbed.

in my dreams - one of the songs by adora; how she dreams about the two of them being happy and having no worries. She’s been having reoccurring dreams that have the common theme of having a life with catra; they come home to each other, they do not have to worry about the pains of the world or their pasts, they can do things that are only possible in dreams.

a thing or two - one of the songs by adora; catra has taught her a few things about life, and how those things have changed her for the better; if it weren’t for catra, adora would have been a totally different person, and now adora wants to thank her for being in her life, even if only for a short while, and that she will love her always.

catra’s album: play me out

theme: growth, healing

songs:

space - learning how to not rely on others; independence; loving people but not making your whole life about them

i am me - self love; the journey of loving both the good and bad parts of yourself; accepting who you are; forgiving yourself

aphrodite - literally just how fucking hot adora is and how aphrodite’s beauty doesn’t compare to her (both her physical and non-physical features, and like more subtle and random ones like the way she smiles when she sees catra, how she laughs at her own stupid dad jokes, etc)

play me out (ft. adora grayskull) - just a love song; returning to one another after being apart; learning that you were meant to be together

fuck it - not giving a shit about what other people think; let the people talk and say whatever they want because catra isn’t going to give a damn; she’s just gonna keep living her life by her rules and enjoy it

once upon a time - her childhood growing up with adora, but making it sound more fairytale like and more innocent, even the darker stuff like trauma and losing parents and being abused (“you were my knight in shining armor” type stuff)

demons - Catra dealing with her inner demons, her self hatred, self sabotage, trauma; how those things don’t define the person she wants to be today and tomorrow and every day after

walk in the rain - reflecting on her feelings for adora while taking a walk in the rain; the rain on her skin is refreshing and washes away any lingering doubts and insecurities; she is left feeling anew and lighter and very much in love

steinway - straight up h*rny hours; basically just catra wanting adora to,,,yeah,,,on top of an expensive piano (a steinway, if you will) because classy shit

worship - remember that thing about fighting religious trauma with gay shit? Yeah🖤; real “take me to church vibes” and like “im far from religious but i feel like I’m sinning when i think about you” or “i didn’t believe in religion until i fell in love with you” type shit

promise me this (ft. bright moon) - making promises to the person you love; “promise me that we’ll be the same ten years from now”

muse - inspired by adora being catra’s favorite muse when she’s painting; her muse distracts her from the problems of the world as she creates art

bonus tracks:

nothing bad can happen (feat bright moon) - sister song to “as long as we have each other”

you are my best mistake - reflecting on how she thought adora was a mistake for so many years until she realized she couldn’t live without her and that she would always love her, so she must just be the best damn mistake Catra ever made, and catra doesn’t regret loving her or being with her

coffee stains - the impact someone you love leaves on you, how it lingers like a coffee stain and never quite leaves forever; they will always be a part of you, even if you try your damndest to rid yourself of them; they may not be in your life anymore, but you will continue to see them in the littlest of things because they meant that much to you, and you will always cherish your time with them, choosing to embrace the coffee stain as part of your shirt instead of trying to remove it

#famous au #play me out #ive been dying to share these ahh