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#still i am very much open to discuss this with people if anyone should want that!
sarahreesbrennan · 2 months
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Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?
Genuine question.
Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.
But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.
Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.
Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.
… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.
I’m not in this to have an internet argument. I prefer to leave my anons open since not everyone has a tumblr, as @neil-gaiman says it’s an internet backwater, but a lovely one for those like myself who enjoy an essay about fictional characters! Still I will close my inbox to anons if I must. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.
I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.
In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.
Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.
Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.
I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.
I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?
I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.
If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.
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jswizzlewrites · 10 months
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Benedict Bridgerton x reader 
Summary: “Hiii! Could you please write about reader overhearing people making comments about her and benedict comforts her and admits feelings? Thanks!!”
You burst through the door that leads to the gardens. You had been friends with Eloise since you were a child and had spent many months wandering Audrey Hall so you were familiar with all the ins and outs of the place. 
It was becoming too much. It was just supposed to be a dinner with the Bridgertons but your mother and Eloise’s mother had gotten in their heads to invite some eligible bachelors. It had started out well, some of the gentlemen invited had called upon you once or twice so you were familiar with them all. 
It had been going so well until you had left the retiring room to rejoin the party to hear some of the gentlemen discussing you. “I called upon her once, but she wasn’t very interesting. Mentioned enjoying art but I can’t recall anything else of interest,” one gentleman had said. 
Another hums in agreement. “Can barely hold a conversation. Not very bright I suppose” 
“She’s very bland looking,” another adds. 
“And doesn’t have the dowry to make it worth it!” 
You had stumbled into the wall. They were discussing her as if she was cattle to be bought. “Are you alright?” Eloise asks, as she walks up the hall behind her.  You turn quickly and with a shake of your head run out of the room.
You pushed your legs as fast as they could go.  Not very bright, she snorts. They didn’t know her. They didn’t care to know her. They called upon her, saw that she was renting for the season and that her family only had property in the country and ran off. 
You stop, leaning against a tree to catch your breath. You had run past the garden and near the green house. You couldn’t recall being down here since you were a kid. You wondered if anyone still used the green house. 
Once syou stopped shaking with rage, you pushed herself off the tree and made your way towards the door of the greenhouse. You pushed it open but let out a startled gasped when you saw Benedict. He was sitting on a stool, next to lamp, his hand raised as he painted on the canvas in front of him. 
He turns abruptly at the sound, his eyes narrowed, but softening as they take you in. He said your name in surprise. “What are you doing down here?” he questions. “Isn’t your husband-to-be waiting for you up at the house? How is he supposed to swoon you if you’re down here?”
You think you hear a slight tone of anger in his voice but the thought of all the gentlemen up at the house causes you to burst into tears. His mouth opens quickly and he stands, taking the few strides until he's right in front of you. “I mean no offense-,” 
You wave him off quickly. “No, no, It is I who should be sorry,” you begin, taking in a deep shaky breath. “I was having a nice evening but-,” you shake your head. “I have intruded, I shall take my leave. I am sorry.” 
Before you can turn, he reaches a hand out to grab your elbow loosely, his fingers trailing down your arm until they interlock with your fingers and turn you back towards him. “You never have to apologize, not to me,” he says. “What made you so upset? Hopefully not my painting, I am not finished yet.” 
You let out a small chuckle as your free hand moves to wipe the tears from your face. “I am being silly, I don’t even want to marry one of those gentlemen,” you begin. 
His eyes narrow in confusion. “So you are upset because you don’t want to marry any of them?” he asks. 
You shake your head. “I left the room and when I came back they were discussing my intelligence and ability to hold a conversation and my looks,” you reply. You feel him go tense. “It’s truly not a concern, I just wasn’t expecting any of them to be so forward.” 
He locked his jaw. His eyes blazing as he looked down at you. “They are not gentlemen if they would speak of a lady in such little regard,” he says, moving past you. You pull at your still interlocked hands. He stumbles back into you. 
“Please. Benedict. I don’t want them to know that I know. I don’t think I could take the humiliation,” you say, glancing away. “At least I won’t have to read about it in Lady Whistleton Monday morning.” 
He shakes his head angrily. “I can’t stand to think of them up their in my house, drinking my expensive alcohol, thinking it’s okay to speak to someone I hold dear,” he retorts, looking down at you intently. His eyes soften and he swallows as he takes in what he said. 
“Benedict,” you whisper. 
He gives you a sheepish smile. “I guess there's no use holding it in anymore,” he responds, glancing down at you. “Did you really think I always had tea with Eloise and my mother? It was because you called. All those times I happened to be doing business in London, just in time to catch you on your evening walks, I had no business.” 
You sniffle as you look up at him. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? You never called upon me, barely asked me to dance. You had to know-,” you falter. 
“Know what? How intelligent you are, how beautiful, how kind? How much I don’t deserve you?” he questions, pulling you close and bringing his head below your chin. You suck in a breath as you feel his chest pressed up against yours. 
“Benedict,” you whisper, as he leans down towards you. 
“May I kiss you?” he asks, his hand reaching up to cradle your face. 
You nod, “Yes,” you breathe as his lips capture yours. He lets go of you conjoined hands, wrapping a hand around you to pull you closer. He pulled away, his lips trailing your chin and up to your ear. You shiver as his lips capture yours once more. 
“I love you,” he whispers. 
You smile into the kiss. “And I love you,” you respond as he leads you deeper into the greenhouse. In that moment you knew that you would follow him anywhere. He was home.
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jamimix · 2 years
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Ain't this just a Dream? (Part 1)
SAGAU x Creator! Reader
Somewhere in the vast ocean, Beidou and her crew stumbled upon an island, away from any civilization, infested with varieties of monsters. Normally, she wouldn't dare risk her crew's life by venturing into an obvious death hole, but something within her, and everyone else, whispers to do so. Their driving point to continuing was the promise they made to their God to fetch them the greatest treasure that they are able to find. Surely with so many mobs concentrated in one place, it meant good loot, right?
After some discussion, a few chosen, including Beidou herself, are tasked to go in, while the others are to stay put and be ready in case they need backup. Because they know, that the moment they step foot in this island, they’re already signing off a contract with death.
But much to their surprise, as one of her people accidentally caught a hoard of rifthound’s attention, it didn’t attack. It all just stared at them wary and suspicious before going back to what it was doing.
Kazuha couldn’t help but be astounded as one of the rifthound pups went barrelling to his legs, looking up at him and then pushing its head his bandaged arm, seemingly asking for some pets, to which he did.
“Well, this is a-uhh surprising turn of events. It seems for once our God has blessed us on our journey.” Beidou chuckled out dryly, while everyone else silently agreed.  “It seems like whatever's here is making them docile. Still, careful. I don’t want anyone dying in my watch.”
Continuing on, the group went deeper, still very wary at the amount of mobs that seems to be growing and with some following them as they went closer and closer to the center of the island. As much as they want to turn back, they’re already in too deep to just give up.
“Captain, there’s someone over there!” It was then that they found you. A gasp resonating from her crew as they saw your appearance. How you look too much like their God. The God that is currently staying in the grandest temple of all of Teyvat, built in Liyue. Of course, suspicion and doubt started to spread because of this.
When some of her men claimed that you may be an imposter, showing signs of hostility towards you, every single monster in the area gave it back, scaring them enough to back down. It was apparent that you're the reason that they acted so... nice.
‌"Everyone, go back to the ship. Kazuha and I will deal with this." Beidou's crew nodded hesitantly before backing away to safety. The monsters around them finally went back to being normal once those who showed hostility are gone. Glancing at Kazuha, Beidou found him staring back, a serious and contemplative look in his face.
"We were all fooled." Beidou lets out a laugh at his words, feeling tired and defeated. How many men has she lost for following someone she thought was her God? The friendships she lost even when she only once tried to reason with them. And to now know it was a fake? How cruel... "That we are, pipsqueak."
Both of them let their gaze go towards your sleeping form, one that was finally showing signs of waking up, not at all surprised as they feel a strong pull from you as they see you open your eyes.
"Everything will be in chaos once we get back. Fun."
(A/n) I have no idea what I'm doing. I should be doing my projects but here I am ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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raavenb2619 · 6 months
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Does coming out lead to too much focus on labels?
(I don't really have a main thesis I'm trying to convince anyone of, I just had a thought and wondered what other people thought.)
When I had recently figured out I was ace/aro/nonbinary, I really cared about finding the right labels for me. And the aspec community in particular has so many unique perspectives and labels that you can apply to yourself. What kinds of attraction do you feel, how do you label your orientations and attractions, what model do you use to think about attraction, how do you think about relationships, how do you feel about sex/romance/relationships, etc. It was super eye opening to learn about lots of different terms, and different ways of thinking about things, and things I'd never even thought about or thought I even could think about, and I ended up applying lots of labels to myself.
But, it's been many years since then, and over time I've grown less interested in applying specific labels to myself. I'm still queer/ace/aro/trans/nonbinary/polyam, but I don't really use other labels. (And depending on the situation, I might end up omitting labels when vagaries work fine.) That's not to say that I don't have affinity with other labels, whether that's "I'm similar to what this label describes" or "this label provides an interesting perspective that I like", I just...don't use other labels to define my identity. If I'm comfortable enough talking about something that I could use a label for, I'll just describe my experiences directly, instead of saying "I'm [blank]".
And, I wonder if that shift from specificity to vagary has to do with coming out. For a young aroace like me, part of why coming out was so nerve-racking was that I felt like I had to prove that my identity was real, and having specific labels I could point to and say "look, this is real, I'm not making this up, other people are like this too" was super helpful. But, it's been many years since I've come out, and I'm more confident and know who I am, and that insecurity that I fought back with fistfuls of labels and well-rehearsed explanations is gone. (With the potential exception of QPR-related discussions, which feel kind of like coming out again; I might make a post about that some time if people are interested.)
Every time I've ever come out, or seen someone come out in real life or in media, it's always been "I'm [blank]", but I've never seen someone come out as "I'm not cis/straight". It's always a declaration that you are a specific thing, never a statement that you aren't something someone thought you were. I remember really wanting to make sure I knew exactly what I was and didn't come out as one thing and then change my labels later, because it would mean I'd have to come out again and it would be embarrassing that I got things wrong and maybe people would start to doubt me and not believe me when I said I was something in the future. But, people don't have to be a fixed, immutable set of labels forever; I'm comfortable with using vague labels for myself and letting myself be vague and nebulous and fluid without frantically trying to label every single part of myself. (And, in fact, I did technically get my labels slightly wrong the very first time I came out, and everything turned out okay in the end.)
So, maybe coming out puts an undue pressure on finding specific labels and making sure they're exactly right; maybe coming out should also be able to be "I'm not cis/straight". What do people think?
(This is not to say that specific labels are bad, because they can often be very helpful! Specific labels were helpful for me when I used them, and their existence can spark conversations and lead to new perspectives and learning. Even as I'm finding vagueness and nebulousness to be better for me right now than specific detailed labels, other people can be finding that specific detailed labels give them a sense of belonging and community and identity. But, I still wonder if coming out placed an undue burden on younger me to find all the right labels when vagueness could have worked just as well.)
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tater-tot-jr · 2 months
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I think I should put in my two cents considering the Hazbin hotel leaked Angel Dust clip. I’ll say that this post should be one absolutely massive trigger warning. If you’re sensitive please don’t read this, I’m pretty blunt. Also I’m only talking about a small leak but SPOILERS!!!
So before I make any points I’ll start by saying that I’m not an inherent fan of vivziepop, this isn’t meat riding, it’s a genuine attempt at open conversation and discussion. I’ll also say I’m a survivor myself and while I don’t claim to speak for anyone else I have some ground to stand on here. I completely understand that people can be triggered by this type of imagery and will at least skip this particular scene or episode, I promise I’m not talking about you guys.
You wanna know who I am talking about though? The weird ass moral police I’ve been watching mobilize. It’s crazy how people are making a big deal out of this. I’ve seen three arguments and all of them are terrible in themselves and being used to justify terrible behavior.
I’ve only seen people claim three major things, this is a bad depiction of a s/a survivor and situation, this is something that’s too graphic and immoral to put in a TV show, the fact that the singing and dancing lightens the tone in a way people find distasteful. I’m going to be trying to prove why I find these arguments mostly ridiculous and unfounded.
As for argument one, s/a survivors come in all shapes and sizes and hyper sexuality happens to be an incredibly common reaction to sexual trauma. I haven’t watched episode one and two but even if I had I’d still have too small of a sample size to determine the entire tone of an incredibly messed up complex dynamic between too incredibly interesting and layered characters. It’s ridiculous to have so many assumptions and expectations of an *11 second leaked clip.*
Secondly. Creative freedom is possible the most important thing in art. If we didn’t have the freedom to put what we wanted on paper or on screen then we wouldn’t have had so much societal change recently. Just because you might find something distasteful and immoral doesn’t mean it absolutely has to be hated on and removed. It’s okay to not like things because you find them gross, it’s okay to not enjoy graphic depictions of serious subjects, it’s not okay to start internet wars over moral bullshit. It’s okay to be mad in silence sometimes, guys.
Thirdly. I kinda get this one, I don’t agree with it but I do understand the point. The idea you don’t want a serious subject framed with a sexy pop song is not inherently bad, it’s just something that makes me think you wouldn’t have liked Hazbin Hotel anyway. I actually appreciate the fact they are using the creative medium to make bold and shocking decisions but I get some people are sensitive to new things, that’s fine. Where this argument gets ridiculous is when people act like this is very out of line for a show like this. This isn’t a Saturday morning kids cartoon it’s and adult animated show about people in hell. It’s highly likely that this won’t be the worst thing we see, you either need to heed the trigger warnings at the beginning of each episode or get over it.
You’ll notice that I didn’t bring up anything about the merchandise pins or the storyboard artist, I did this because they aren’t arguments but barely related attempts at character assassinations. When you spend five minutes thinking about them critically you come to realize that there is nothing substantial to those arguments.
I’d like to finish up talking about how I think this scene is doing more good than harm. It’s important to make people uncomfortable when you’re talking about things so horrible like s/a and rape. It shouldn’t be meek and palatable for a general audience, it should upset you. I remember hearing something in a video game once that stuck with me. There was a character who said that when you’re sick you need strong medicine and that the strongest medication is very bitter.
I think episode four will be some very bitter medicine.
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moonastrogirl · 10 months
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Can anyone be a vedic astrologer or write about vedic astrology ?
The answer is so obvious : a giant no. Yet people on this app, astrology entertainers/bloggers, are trying now to talk about vedic astrology. Is it becoming a trend to put a little bit of vedic astrology inside “astrology observations” which are mostly based on tropical astrology ? Same astrology observations that are so full of stereotypes that make people resent astrology ?
Most of those bloggers don’t know anything about the sacral role of Vedic astrology and they are not trying to. Vedic astrology is based on beliefs, rituals, gods and prayers. Each Nakshatra is ruled by a God. Each planet has a specific role. Nothing is all black or white in Vedic astrology and everything makes so much sense to those who are destined to talk about it. It’s not for everyone. So please. Let’s stop this. And it’s so disrespectful to talk about something that everyone can’t comprehend and spread wrong information about it.
Each post I made on Vedic astrology is based on several sources and also on my own knowledge. I have been studying Vedic for years now and I don’t consider myself knowledgeable enough about the subject, I am still learning so I just avoid pretending that I do because I am constantly evolving and learning about it. I only share what I know when I am certain it can help people. And that’s what astrologers should be about : aiming to help the collective with a knowledge that can be useful, being cautious with it too and learning each day. And not writing about it for the purpose of entertainment, likes, comments and shares.
So let’s be clear : not everyone can talk about Vedic astrology lightly and definitely not to entertain people. It’s not made for entertainment. It’s pure spirituality, it’s part of a religion, of a culture and people daily lives. It’s also part of religious rituals so let’s just be more respectful of it and quit trying to use it for entertainment while not backing up by the background knowledge/training/personal placements necessary to talk about it.
{Do I put myself inside those tropical bloggers astrology ? No my content is different and from the very beginning, I never aligned my content with astrology observations that are so popular here. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t. Cause my blog has only one purpose : helping people through astrology. It’s not for entertainment purposes. It will never be.
My goal is to always provide knowledge that can be useful. I am even learning more about Vedic astrology than tropical lately and I want to write exclusively about Vedic astrology from now on. (After finishing my last articles on 12th house signs and placements). I am taking some time off at this moment because I needed a break from writing but I also needed to write about this as I have observed it a lot lately on Tumblr. }
NB : If you want to comment, go ahead leave me a comment I am always open for a good and constructive discussion. Plus this post is absolutely not to criticise anyone’s work but to express my opinion based on what I have observed and seen here… And to reinforce the fact that I will always be against pure entertainment purposes when it comes to astrology because it leads to superficial interpretations and stereotypes of the signs and placements.
*This is based on new information I have learned but I also was feeling this deeply for a long time.*
Thank you for reading me 💜
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butchspace · 3 months
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Hello, I am going to discuss my thoughts on content/trigger warnings as someone living with OCD. I am absolutely open to good faith engagement and discussion on this topic.
Having some thoughts on the idea that adding trigger warnings somehow ultimately harms the person with the trigger. They absolutely can create an easy tool to obsessively control your access to the topics/to avoid them, but I’ve always felt it should be the potentially triggered person’s decision on what they were ready to do about it. Uncontrolled exposure is just as capable of causing obsession as is avoidance, in my opinion.
I think of the (terrible telephone retelling of a) case I heard about while discovering recounts of actual lived experiences with OCD.
—The following example discusses intrusive thoughts about domestic violence.—
A woman had an obsession with being was afraid of hitting her boyfriend. Her compulsion was that she would have to hold her arms stiffly by her side. She recognized this as OCD and sought exposure response prevention. Her therapist told her to try and ignore the compulsion, or potentially do the opposite. The woman became so obsessed with healing she forced herself to keep her hands away from her sides (almost obsessively) and constantly checked whether or not she “still wanted to hit him.” In the end, the ERP just became entangled with her obsessions.
It takes so much strength to face these types of problems and practice the mindfulness and grace with yourself to recognize it. It’s something you really need to be ready for because it’s going to take a lot of effort to do the hard thing when the easy thing is right there.
How can we claim it’s best to “force” exposure on someone else? How can we go around vigilante therapising people we have deemed too ill to do it on their own (or just be left alone)?
This is not to say that anyone is bad if they can’t or don’t want to tag things. More just my thoughts about how pushback against that idea can swing too hard into trying to prove not tagging was morality correct.
Some articles that articulate so much of my experience with OCD:
Having No Cure for OCD Is the Cure
Help! I Have OCD About What’s OCD
In the spirit of bodily autonomy, I think we all deserve agency in our lives no matter how “incompetent” other people may think we are. When you’re ready, you’re ready. There’s no healing to be had sitting around thinking you’re broken or lazy or whatever for not being ready to change. We all owe each other the kindness to do what we can in good faith, too.
I started doing too much table setting in the tags, so I’ll put it under a read more, lol.
I recognize that this isn’t very radically (in the abolition vs reform sense) anti-psychiatry, and I do have a complicated relationship with that idea. I recognize that I have a good deal of privilege (particularly among people with more stigmatized/less understood “disorders”) but this framework is the only one I’ve ever been able to access that gives me any insight into myself at all. That isn’t something everyone can afford to do in several senses.
As a physically disabled person, I just connect my experiences with chronic illness and mental illness (which I think can fall under the umbrella of chronic on its own) more and more these days. What truly was the difference between not being able to do something out of pain versus anxiety? Our brains are organs, too. Our thoughts are chemical and hormonal, too.
One of the fondest memories I have of coming to terms with disability was explaining my experience with an autoimmune condition to a bipolar friend, and he replied that we were “chronic illness buddies.” And I felt so understood as someone who has suffered with various types of anxieties for their entire waking life.
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thezombieprostitute · 4 months
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Music in the Air
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A/N: Written for Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge (@sstan-hoe). Reader is implied fem, "girls like me". No physical descriptors used.
Prompts: Bucky Barnes - My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on.
Summary: You and Bucky discuss poinsettias.
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Bucky's arm was having problems. Again. In all the years he had the arm he never really got to understand how it worked. He could figure out how to fix a lot of things, but his arm wasn't one of them. That's why he was glad he had you to turn to. You had quickly become his go-to engineer in the Avengers Tower. You were a rare and delightful combination of "not afraid of him" and "not overly friendly". You would smile, but let him initiate the conversation when he wanted.
At least, normally you were his favorite. Ever since December started you only every played Christmas music in your lab. He was still trying to get used to how much the holiday had changed and the music was, well, a lot. Especially when you were always listening to some kind of heavy metal Christmas music and he had only ever heard Christmas music sung a capella or maybe a church organ.
"Do you really need to listen to that music all the time?"
You smiled while working, "I did the respectful thing and waited until December before I started listening."
"Yeah, but it's just so..." he struggled to find the words.
"Non-traditional?"
"Jarring."
"Well, Sergeant Barnes," you reply, setting your tools down, "My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on. However, I am willing to switch it for something that's maybe a little more your speed."
You walk over to your laptop and open up your playlist. It takes you a minute, but you finally find the song you're looking for and press the play button. As the speakers sing a lighter, slower tune, you turn back to Bucky, "you should be grateful. I don't turn off Trans Siberian Orchestra for just anyone."
Bucky blushed as he smiled, listening to the song. It was very different from what you had been listening to. For a start, there were lyrics. They told the story of a poinsettia named Percy and how had been overlooked and abandoned but grew and shone when given love. He almost smacked himself for having empathy for an imaginary plant.
To distract himself he said, "I'm surprised you like this song. It's so different from what you were listening to before."
You smile and respond, "it's a childhood favorite. This song just really hit my heart in a way no other Christmas song did. It stuck with me so much that, even in college if I saw my flowers for sale that were wilting or on their last legs, I'd buy them. Just to make sure they had love before they fully wilted."
Bucky looked at you with a softness in his eyes before you shook your head, "I know, it's stupid. I was an adult, I should've known better but some things just stick with you, you know?"
"Yeah," he whispered. "I know. Did you stop buying flowers because you kept getting them from dates or something?"
You chuckle, "I stopped because I had to prioritize my budget. I can't remember the last time I had flowers in my apartment. But thank you for the compliment."
"What do you mean? The guys you date don't give you flowers?"
"Girls like me don't get dates, Sergeant. I'm not whatever enough for guys to ask me out. Whether it's my size, my intelligence, my hobbies, there's just always something that keeps guys from asking me out, let alone bringing me flowers. But, again, thank you for the compliment."
You set down your tools and start putting them away, "your arm is all patched up. Hope this fix lasts you at least through the end of the year. I've got a lot of projects to finish up before the end of the year so I might not have the time to take care of you."
"You're not staying here for Christmas, are you?"
"I am," you nod. "My family celebrates holidays on days that aren't the day of so that we can avoid traffic and last-minute shoppers. So I set up an office lunch for the people who either don't celebrate, have nowhere to go, or whatever other reasons. Mr. Stark has been very generous with the budget for that."
"I'm glad you won't be alone on Christmas," he gives you a gentle smile.
"How about you," you ask. "You're welcome to join us if you'd like."
"Sam is insisting on taking me to Louisiana," he replies.
"Good," you assert. "I'm very glad you also won't be alone on Christmas."
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You really shouldn't have been surprised to see the poinsettia on your desk the next day. There was no note, but you suspected. It wasn't very big and it had started wilting, but you loved it nonetheless. You gently hugged the plant and promised to give it the best of care for as long as it needed. After a week it was like a brand new plant, bright and strong. Doesn't hurt that you asked the biolab techs for help and resources.
It made Bucky's year to see how big your smile was, watching your poinsettia grow and how much you clearly loved it. It took him a while after to gather his courage and ask you on a date but your quick "yes" reassured him. Neither of you would ever be alone on Christmas.
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Immortal Beloved - Chapter Seven.
Last update until after Christmas, guys. I guess this gives anyone wishing to catch up a chance to do so, but I must confess that if reads and engagement are still dwindling, the story will likely be discontinued. I don't want to do that really, but I'm not being left with much choice. Working hard on creating something that went from a lot of initial interest to barely any at all is soul destroying for a writer. I appreciate the few people who are committed to it enormously, though.
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Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six
Tag list - In the comments
Words - 3,739
Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!
“Well, it looks as if the roads are quite passable now.” Looking at John, she snorted a laugh. It was not the news he’d been hoping to hear.  
“Can’t you go and, I dunno, move a load more snow over ‘em, so we don’t have to go anywhere?”  
Oh, the bubble they had fallen into over the past few days. Neither truly wanted to burst it by venturing out from within the four walls of Georgian House. They’d spent most of their time naked, either enjoying one another on a sexual level, or simply warming themselves at the fireside while they’d talked for hours on end. Reality, though, it had to come knocking eventually. 
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she raised a curious eyebrow. “What, I am to go out there and shunt the snowbanks back into every single road running through Birmingham?” 
“Yes,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the front door. “Go on, hop to it.”  
Her laugh filled the hallway, curling her fingers at his neck. “You do amuse me, my darling. There is nothing to stop us from coming back here later on. I would like another night with you until my rescheduled work engagements fill up the rest of my week.”  
“Yeah,” he breathed, kissing her forehead, “I’m gonna have all that to focus on an’ all. All the races will have been cancelled cos’ of the weather, but we have other things going on I’ll need to be about for.” Those things included words he hadn’t wanted to let into his mind for the last four days since his arrival in Little Aston, such as the Rasmussen’s, and his taking Bryn back to Small Heath to introduce her to his family in order to discuss her own difficulties with them.  
“Come, let us depart, then.”  
His face was not in agreement with those words. “Do we have to leave right now?” 
“You called your brother, and he is back from Warwickshire, yes?” 
“Yeah, he is.” 
“Then we should not keep him waiting. It is rude, and I pride myself on being polite.” 
He grumbled in protest. “I wanted to do something before we did.” He watched her cock her head slightly, his hands wandering over the contours of her body through her long, black skirt. “I really fancy burying me face between your legs for so long, you forget what I look like.”  
He winked, and she felt her stomach flutter. “I could never forget a face so handsome, but by all means, you may do that to me later on.” 
Biting his lip, he smirked, eyes touring her. “You sure not now?” 
The devilment within him. It would be the death of her, if she were not dead already. “Coat and boots. Now. Your family already distrust me. I am not about to give them another reason to stack against me before I have even crossed their threshold.” 
That threshold was reached at just past 6pm, Bryn stepping from the car as John took her arm, reaching to open the front door. His arm pulled from hers as he stepped inside, her body rooted to the spot.  
Polly’s words the previous week returned to him in an instant. “Ah, yeah I have to invite you in, don’t I?” She nodded. “Won’t you please come in, you ridiculously beautiful woman.” Stepping into the small house, it had a very cosy feel to it, the fire crackling away, evidence of someone having been sitting there, that someone coming hurtling in from the back room.  
“Daddy!” 
“Hello, pige.” Scooping his daughter up, John kissed her cheek, Katie cuddling up to him tightly as her eyes took in Bryn, who beamed brightly. “What’s this you’ve got on your head, eh?” Gesturing to the wire hanger that had been fashioned, little sequins wrapped around along with paper flowers, he laughed when she batted his hand away with a scowl. 
“It’s my crown!” Her finger then pointed at Bryn. “Daddy is this your new lady friend?”  
He grinned, nodding. “Yeah, pige. This is Brynhild, but you can call her Bryn, like I do.” 
Immediately, she scrambled from his arms. “Hello, Bryn! My name is princess Katie.”  
Bryn took to her like a duck to water, placing a hand to her chest with a small gasp. “What, you mean to tell me I am meeting the princess Katie of Small Heath?” The child nodded, tucking her chin a little shyly for a moment. “I am thrilled to make your acquaintance, your majesty.” Katie looked thrilled as Bryn bobbed in a neat curtsy, giggling before launching herself to hug her legs, the vampire lifting her into her arms. “This is a very, very pretty crown.” 
“Thanks! I made it, aunt Polly helped but then she got glue on her skirt and said it was a bugger, so I did the rest.” 
“Oi, you want smacked legs?” John admonished, pinching her cheek. “Less of the swearing, eh?” 
“But Polly said it!” Turning then, she found interest in Bryn’s tattoos, her fingers trailing the lines. “Did you paint these on? Do they come off?” 
“No, little princess. I did not paint them on and no, they do not come off.”  
“Is it like what uncle Tommy has on his arm? A two two?” 
“A tattoo, yes,” she softly corrected, Katie’s fingers reaching to begin playing with the strings of pearls around her neck. 
“Where are you from? Your voice is all funny. You don’t talk like we do.” A little more pearl playing went on, Katie studying her intently. “You’re very pretty.” 
“Why thank you. Such a compliment, and from royalty too, no less. As for where I am from, I come from a country called Norway.”  
Her little head of blonde curls swung around to view her father. “Can we go one day, daddy? Can you drive us there?”  
He laughed, taking her back from Bryn. “Not unless cars can suddenly cross water, pige. Now let’s get you off to bed.” 
“But I want to say up and talk to Bryn!” Ahh, he knew she’d probably be difficult, confronted with a new person. She likely already had designs on bringing down her doll collection to proudly show off. 
“I will come and see you again soon, princess Katie. This I promise.” Bryn vouched, rubbing her nightdress covered thigh affectionately. A few more protests were given before John took her up, coming back to walk Bryn through to the backroom, where there waiting were Tommy, Arthur and Polly.  
“Everyone, this is Brynhild. Bryn, this is Arthur, Tommy and Polly.”  
Studying them, she made her usual quick assessments, walking first to Tommy. He looked a little stiff, but was certainly the least frosty of the three.  
“A pleasure.” She offered her hand, Tommy hesitating only for a second, the echoes of screams that had sounded long ago sharp again within his mind before he shook it. He noticed it as soon as his skin pressed to hers, the ancient power that radiated from her.  
She seemed confident and polite, a civilised woman. It did not mean she truly was, though. Whatever sorcery she’d obviously worked on John, he wouldn’t be so quick to succumb, but he would give her a fair chance all the same.  
“Polly, hello.” Here she was met with much more coolness, the matriarch of the family lifting her chin as she took a step back, Bryn hearing her heartbeat escalate. She withdrew her hand after a few moments, certain it was not about to be shook. “I am not what your grandmother told you we are.”  
“You’ll keep my grandmother’s name out of your mouth, if it’s all the same to you.”  
“Pol, knock it on the head,” John warned, his brow creasing. 
“No, I bloody won’t,” she protested, although her eyes did not leave Bryn for a second. Her jaw clenched as she swallowed hard, trying to remain rocklike in the presence of a creature she’d been warned never to trust, no matter what. Bryn saw it, though, the way the curls framing her face gently fluttered from her trembles. “But I will at least listen to what she has to say.” 
“Well, I flamin’ won’t,” Arthur began, brandishing a large, silver knife as Bryn turned to him. “Don’t you fucking come anywhere near me!”  
“Arthur, put the knife down,” Tommy spoke, his tone quiet yet strong.  
“I will not.” 
Bryn turned, moving to take a seat at the table beside John. “If he wishes to arm himself for his own peace of mind, then I shall not object.”  
“Ain’t like you couldn’t take it from him faster than he could blink,” John snorted, resting a hand to her thigh, remembering how she’d done the very same to him. While Polly studied the ease he displayed while interacting with the shadow walker, Arthur was becoming tighter wound by the second.  
“I suppose if you’re fine with it,” Tommy began, lighting a cigarette. “Now, let’s get right to business, shall we? You want us to offer you protection in the daylight hours from the Rasmussen’s, should they ever get wind of your whereabouts.” 
“That is correct,” Bryn confirmed. 
“And what do we get out of it, apart from monetary recompense?” Taking a drag on his cigarette, his eyes narrowed a fraction. “The Peaky Blinders aren’t exactly short of a bob or two already, so I want to know what else it is that you can provide me with, in the interests of making it worth my while to trust a shadow walker.” 
John had mentioned how shrewd he could be. “It would be a regular, large sum of legitimate cash, for one thing. Bodyguarding services do not need to be hidden from the books, or laundered by other means as I know you have to with some of your more, ah, shadowed activities, shall we say. Then there is the fact that the Rasmussen’s do not play fair when it comes to a fight. I could give you the means to not just level the playing field, but level them, also. You know what they are, I am correct in thinking?” 
He nodded singularly. “Vampire hunters. John told us, yes.”  
“And you know why specifically they are hunting me?” 
“I do, for your blood. Somewhat hypocritical, if you ask me. Trying to wipe out your kind, but only too happy to drink your blood in order to harness a little of your strength for themselves.” 
Her mouth upturned, a smile spreading. “I have often thought much the same. In light of this, know that in physical combat, you shall never beat them as it stands. Outwitting them too shall prove difficult, for the advantage they hold. What I can offer to you is what they seek. My blood.  
“It will sharpen you both mentally and physically, far more than they. Whatever vampire they have within their clutches at present whom they are using for their blood source, they are nowhere near as old or strong as I. If you have that, Tommy, you have everything. The advantage will be yours.”  
His eyes widened a fraction at the suggestion, Bryn turning to John. “Show him, darling.”  
He stood, placing his hand beneath her chair before lifting it clean in the air above his head, his arm not even wobbling, no sign of any strain upon his face.  
“Holy shit,” Polly exclaimed, her eyes snapping from the sight to Tommy, who’s interest had just piqued by several notches.  
“And why the fuck have you been doing something so fucking vile as drinking her blood, eh? That’s fucking disgusting. Shame on ya!” Arthur raged, watching as his brother set the vampire down again neatly.  
John sniffed casually, looking at Bryn with a wink. “I had my reasons. I could tell you, but you’d probably shit a lung in disgust.” Being able to fuck for hours on end. Having the feeling of a million stars shooting through his bloodstream. Orgasms that rocked his foundations to rubble. Being able to feel her there connected to him, on a level that went beyond what they as mere humans could otherwise comprehend. No. Arthur likely wouldn’t take fondly to hearing such candid verbatim.  
Tommy cleared his throat. “And how much did you have in mind, monetary speaking?” 
“Are we just going to fucking sit here and ignore that this... this... evil witch creature has our bloody brother under some kind of spell, or what?” Arthur raged, thumping his hand on the table before the chair screeched out from under him, rising to his feet rapidly.  
“I am no witch, Arthur,” Bryn commented softly.  
John snorted with laughter. “Could’ve fooled me, bab.” The wink he directed at Bryn left nobody in any doubt over exactly what he alluded to. 
“Shut the fuck up, John! Just because you’ve decided to start shagging the fuck out of a corpse, it don’t mean we’ve got to be alright with it!” 
The mood in the room changed drastically, John shooting his eldest brother a dangerous glare. “The fuck did you just call her?” 
“Technically he’s right,” Bryn spoke casually, looking over at Arthur with a small smirk. “However, you shouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it. If there is one place we truly come alive, it is in the bedroom.” She then winked at John, feeling his temper deflate in an instant. He did nothing to hide his grin and snort of laughter, his reaction only further exasperating Arthur.  
“Revolting,” he began, swinging his pointed finger then towards Bryn. “And you, you fucking vile piece of filth, are a goddamned abomination!” 
Bryn was prepared to take a lot in order to help her cause, also to smooth any tensions that her love’s family might’ve still harboured now that she was involved romantically with him. Being called an abomination was where she drew a definitive line, though.  
Her growl rattled through the room, every person bar John feeling the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. “You will never call me that again.”  
“Listen to it, listen!” he raged, gesturing with both hands, his eyes widening. “Fucking growling, like the beast it is!”  
“Arthur,” John warned, “don’t bloody push her. She’s gentle as a sparrow, but if you light a match under her fucking temper, I ain’t putting myself between you and the explosion.”  
His mannerisms became jerky as anger and fear flooded his blood, thrusting a pointed finger in Bryn’s direction. “I will not share air with that fucking devil creature!” 
“That is fine, Arthur. For I do not need to breathe.” She was hanging onto her desire to exit her seat and pin him to the nearest wall, fangs bared, by the skin of those very teeth. Out of respect for John and nothing more, she remained seated. John, her darling, he who had just broken the tension in the air somewhat by snorting with laughter at her words.  
“John boy, this ain’t funny!” 
“Oh, it fucking is though, Arthur. You ranting and raving like a bloody lunatic about how vicious and murderous she’s supposed to be, and she’s just sitting there quietly, taking every ounce of your shit while you show yourself up good an’ proper.” Leaning back in his seat, he shook his head, still rumbling with his chuckles. “Give it a rest, eh?”  
“Give it a rest?” His spat statement was accompanied by a fine mist of saliva sprayed into the air, his hair becoming unruly as he dragged his fingers through it. “Oh ar, yeah let’s all give it a rest and let her think we’ve dropped our guard. Then she’d bring her friends along and it’ll be the Black Patch all over again!” 
John remained calm, chewing his toothpick with nonchalance. “You’re going to give yourself a funny turn, you are.” 
“You didn’t see it, John boy! You didn’t see people ripped apart, their throats torn out, you didn’t...” His words trailed off, eyes snapping to Bryn as she stood, making a start to walk towards him. “Don’t you bloody come near me! Don’t you...” He reached for the knife, but in his haste sent it clattering to the floor, Bryn upon him before he had chance to retrieve it.  
“Shhhhh,” she soothed, reaching for his face, clasping it between her hands, Arthur struggling. 
“Get your fucking hands off me!” 
“Shhhhh, Arthur. Come now.” She’d been pushed to anger before by his verbal tirade, but looking at him, really studying the man whose face she held, thumbs gently stroking his cheeks, she saw it. His outburst was not prompted by any hatred. It was all fear. He was terrified of her. Just like she had done with John upon their first meet, Bryn held his face, transmitting her energy to him, soothing him. He fought against it, though. 
“Get off, stop it. Fucking stop it!” 
He began to crack, embarrassed, frightened tears pooling his eyes, Arthur ashamed to let her witness them sliding down his cheeks. He remained rigid as she pulled him close. “There, there. You are not that frightened little boy any longer, Arthur. You are a strong man, a capable man, one who fought for king and country. There is no need for all this anguish. I do not seek to hurt you.” 
At last, she felt his muscles slacken, surprised to feel his arms wrap around her as he sobbed silently into the soft pelt of her coat. It took him by surprise, the feeling of sudden waves of calm pouring into him, there in the arms of the creature he had considered to be nothing short of the purest evil to ever exist. She fed upon the blood of the living, a shadow residing beast of unimaginable power and darkness, but there in her arms, Arthur felt the kind of safe comfort he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.  
He couldn’t discount that. 
The whole room remained silent, John raising an eyebrow and nodding at the scene as he and Tommy exchanged glances, the former mouthing ‘told you’ with a satisfied grin. Where Tommy looked to be more accepting of the sight before him, Polly remained stern, her face not cracking whatsoever.  
“Are you composed now?” Bryn asked, pulling back to wipe Arthur’s tears gently with the backs of her fingers.  
Nodding, he took a deep breath, straightening his stance. “A bit, ar.” He still felt embarrassed, excusing himself as Bryn returned to her seat. Immediately, John reached to cup her face, thumb stroking her cheek. She turned her head to kiss his palm, covering her hand with his for a moment. Tommy raised his eyebrows, looking to Polly. Neither had ever seen him really express affection like that for a woman so openly, but both saw it quite clearly.  
Their precious John was in love with a vampire. 
“Now, before Arthur became distressed, you mentioned to me a monetary figure. How is five hundred pounds?” 
“A month?” Tommy asked, surprised. 
“A week.”  
Good god. Just how rich was this woman, to be able to offer five hundred pounds a week? It was a sum he had not expected at all.  
“I think that can be arranged,” he began, stubbing out his cigarette, “but the blood offer I shall have to give some consideration to.”  
“Good enough.”  
“Before anything is decided, I have some questions I’d like to ask you,” Polly began, leaning forward in her seat a little. “How do we know we aren’t about to be set upon by a group of your kind and slaughtered, like what happened up at the Black Patch? We have no bloody assurances here, Brynhild.”  
Bryn nodded, clasping her hands together upon the table. “Polly, the only assurance you need is that if I wanted you dead, you would be.” Clicking her fingers, she smirked. “Faster than that. You would not even see it coming. If I were as feral and bloodthirsty as you assume, it would happen before you knew it. I have no long game to play here, there is no merit in the Shelby’s ending up exsanguinated. I have no need for your money, merely your protection during the daylight. After telling you that, now you tell me what purpose I could possibly have in being duplicitous?” 
Her response was sharply delivered. “The Black Patch massacre, as I just said.” 
Bryn truly hated when humans did not listen. “You would be dead already, as I just said. Besides, it was not my fight.”  
“So you wouldn’t take the side of your own kind over a betrayal?” 
“If a gypsy family whom were not of your blood fell out with others, would you immediately take their side simply because they were gypsy?” 
She lit a cigarette, feeling nervous that the vampire so swiftly had her on the back foot. “That would depend on the circumstances.”  
“If that is so, then why can the same not be applied to me, hmm?”  
Polly did not enjoy witnessing her argument so flawlessly picked apart, feeling as if the neat stitches had been dropped from the needles she had knitted her opinion upon all too easily. “I see.”  
“No, you don’t,” Bryn challenged, reading her like a book. “You are prejudiced against my kind because you lost your kin at the hands of vampires. I knew those responsible, this much is true, but I had no part in what happened. Furthermore, I wanted no part. I have lost too, Polly. Because of the Rasmussen’s, I...”  
John felt it flare within him, a wave of distress burning through her blood, his hand reaching for her. “You alright, sweetheart?”  
She swallowed hard, nodding as she turned to him. “There is something I did not reveal that happened during my incarceration at the hands of the Rasmussen’s. I do not speak it because it brings me too much pain. Pain I can barely comprehend, even after all these years.”  
In getting the family to truly trust her, she knew she had to relive it in revelation. The three humans sitting at the table all waited with bated breath to hear it, just what could make an ancient vampire the likes of her suddenly become victim to her emotions. They would be the first outside of her own kind to know what had happened, too.  
That spoke volumes for a vampire as guarded as Bryn had been forced to become. 
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soullessjack · 4 months
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so one of my other problems with babyjack is that the fandom just seems to have this sort of collective cognitive dissonance about it, in almost any context or discussion. like this post as probably my only standing example (bc it’s the only one to have gotten traction), there are all these tags about how babyjack leads to bad dean criticism, or how it’s nice in aus but they want canon complex jack, and like I’m not entirely disagreeing with that, but it is so fucking frustrating that people are still ignoring the actual problem with it and either only focusing on the most surface level issues that personally affect them or their corner of the fandom, or making up some point of acceptability for it that frankly isn’t theirs to make.
it’s the autistic experience of our struggles never being seen or cared about until they become other people’s inconveniences, and our voices being used to say something else entirely. when the main takeaway of that post is how the fandom’s treatment of jack being in a way he’s explicitly shown to hate being treated directly mirrors autistic people’s struggle for autonomy in the real world, I really do not need you to make it about how it makes your golden website boy dean look like a big meanie pants, okay? that’s definitely a part of it, but it’s not at all what we are talking about, and it 100% should not be the only reason you care.
and especially when the other takeaway is how this is just a smaller scale issue that comes from autistic infantilization, the absolute last take I want to hear is that you find that infantilization acceptable as long it’s an AU or something else separated from canon. believe me, I’m beyond glad more people actually prefer canon complex jack—like, I don’t think you guys understand that that is legitimately a rarity to find here— but the thing about babyjack is that the concept itself is inherently ableist, and directly relies on his complexities (and the representation he means for us) being removed and erased so that he can even exist in the context of those AU’s. It feels very… ‘have your cake and eat it too’ to me.
I’m trying not to sound angry or accusatory, but I am also tired of having to force civility on a problem that’s pretty much just an open secret thar everyone collectively ignores and beats bushes around solely because they prioritize #domesticdestiel over all. I mean, do you guys even hear yourselves sometimes? Like half of it just boils down to “Autistic infantilization is always bad, except for this one context where it makes my ship look domestic and redeems my blorbo,” and it’s getting really fucking annoying to have to constantly explain something that is not only painfully easy to understand, but is understood and actively ignored, and still play nice so that somebody out there might listen.
So many people will say they like canon Jack and want more of him from the fandom, and I more than agree, but motherfucker you have a blog! You have the tools! Be the change you want to see! He doesn’t have to be your fav or your blog thesis blorbo, but if you want it, you are literally fully equipped to make it! Write some meta, draw some fanart, whatever. Better yet, you could even stop engaging with and perpetuating content that actively pushes down on what you want and, I must reiterate, is actively harmful and ableist. If you want domestic silliness go right ahead, but you don’t need to resort to ableism to do it.
I don’t think I’m asking too much or asking rudely, and frankly I don’t even think I owe niceties to anyone when it’s a problem that has been openly ignored for 6 years and holds plenty of bearing in the real world concerning my identity and community and shit we face constantly. Outside of our screens, we are constantly fighting for autonomy and recognition and representation, and even to be seen as people. Online spaces, especially fandom spaces, are a huge source of escapism and support that we wouldn’t get otherwise. So for the love of god, please stop bringing that fight here.
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crowjodojocasahouse · 5 months
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man like what even is anything
i've been thinking a lot recently. i'm in a contemporary art and gender class, and we did our masculinity studies class like right before we started our trans studies unit and i'm just trying to think. why am i even trans? yes, i feel very much drawn to traditional ways of expressing my gender masculinely. having a deeper voice, facial hair, boxy build, etc, is how i want my body to be. but like, that doesn't necessarily make me a man*. what does masculinity even mean? the features in which i wish to acquire aren't masculine within themselves. they can be utilized in androgynous and feminine ways; deep voices or hair or a boxy build are not inherently masculine. by that i mean, any who has these features is not automatically a masculine person.
so like. what am i doing? (more under the cut)
i know what i am doing makes me happy, and i'm not questioning my transness itself in the slightest. i know for a fact that i am trans, and HRT has been one of the best decisions i've ever made. but trying to break down ideas of gender makes me wonder how different i would feel if gender were not a part of our society. would i still want to undergo treatment? would i always feel like there was something missing? would i want the testosterone based secondary sex characteristics? i am not undergoing HRT because i feel like i am a man and that is what men do. i am undergoing HRT because testosterone secondary sex characteristics are how i want to express Me. that's how i feel like i should exist. but would i feel the same if i didn't have a gender identity? i feel like my wish to express myself masculinely does inform my gender identity, and not the other way around.
gender just doesn't really make sense to me. anything you try to claim that it is, there is always something that is going to contradict it. whenever you try to attribute a certain trait to a certain gender, you can always find that trait in other people who are a different gender. it is just so deeply personal to everyone, i personally believe everyone has their own gender. even two cishet people of the same gender are going to experience their gender identity differently. so where is the divide? when does a personality trait become part of your gender identity? which traits even fall under gender identity? does gender even need to be involved at all? is a future without using gendered language to describe ourselves achievable? is that something we even want to achieve? what is gender and what is expression?
does any of this make any sense? does anyone else feel this way? i want to open up this discussion to anyone, no matter your experience with gender.
*i say man, in this context, in reference to myself, as shorthand for "masculinely gendered person." i am not, in the traditional sense, a man, but refer to myself as such for the sake of argument and not being overly wordy with my stream of consciousness.
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stinalotte · 9 months
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Season 5, Episode 6: The Shrine
I said I had to gather my thoughts before I would be able to write something coherent. I still don't know if I can do it justice. It's weird, but I hesitate to call The Shrine my favorite episode because it's so devastating. It's very shippy, it has phenomenal acting from everyone, the story is heartbreaking, it should be perfect - but it just hurts so much. If this is my favorite episode, what kind of masochist am I? (Don't answer that, that was rethorical.)
I'm placing this under a cut because this is gonna be long.
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The cold open on this one is just brutal. Rodney is already pretty far gone, and he calls himself "Mr Rodney McKay" instead of Dr, because "doctors are smart, and he's not smart anymore". To know what's happening to you, to slowly lose your mental capabilities and to be able to still process what's happening, that's cruel. And then he's calling for John, and that's when I had to pause the video for the first time because the tears were already coming. The title sequence hadn't even started.
Fuck.
I lost my grandmother to Alzheimer's a couple years ago. She had a slow and steady decline and thankfully, it was one of those cases where she just forgot more and more, but without the mental anguish. She wasn't panicking, or aggressive, or even agitated. Just a smiling, sweet old lady, who in the end didn't remember how to sit or eat or breathe. When she died, I couldn't cry. I was too busy consoling my mother and aunt at the funeral. The first time I cried was when I rewatched The Shrine, years later. It just shook something loose in me. It's also the point where I decided that if I ever got diagnosed, and was still in a state to do something about it, I would end my life on my terms. I'm not putting anyone through that.
I remember Kate Hewlett saying in an interview that a lot of people on set where crying during those scenes because they had family members with dementia, and that she had to leave the room at one point because it hit close to home for her too.
At first I thought it was mean that everyone was like, "Yeah I realized something was wrong when Rodney was being nice to everyone", but then I thought, no, that's actually a good point. Because his friends were uncomfortable with alternate universe Rod (who was too suave and cool) and they're uncomfortable with a Rodney who is uncharacteristically nice. They love him as he is, not a polished version.
I know everyone is giving Dr Keller shit for not wanting to try the Shrine, but I really think it's because she's a doctor. I work with doctors, and almost weekly I have discussions about respecting a patient's advanced directive. I've had a doctor wanting to install a gastric tube in a patient who was at the end of their life. We had the advanced directive that CLEARLY stated they didn't want that. When I confronted the doctor, she was almost angry. "But they will starve! I can't let them starve!" Yes, you can, and you will, and you have to. The hardest thing for a medical doctor is to have to sit back and not be allowed to do something that might help the patient. I think that where she's coming from. There are treatments to be tried, and if Rodney is taken to the Shrine, all those other options stop. I still think she was wrong and I don't like her approach, but I think it's an explanation why she was acting the way she was.
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And then we have Rodney running to John's room in the middle of the night because of course that is the first and only place he'd go. It hurt to watch him be so frantic and desperate. And John is right there for him, grounding him, telling him, I'm not going anywhere.
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Beer On The Pier. Yes, you have to write it like that because this scene is a fixed point in time and a goddamn cornerstone of this ship.
Rodney, knowing this is probably the last night he'll be this lucid, wants to say goodbye. And John doesn't let him. Because Rodney's stuck with him until the end. He's not going to turn away, no matter how ugly it's going to get. The very thought of saying goodbye is so foreign to John that he doesn't even want to discuss it. "That's final."
(Also, just for aesthetics alone, the night shots of the city are beautiful.)
I'm trying to be a bit less rambly, but what can you do when you have this masterpiece of an episode?
In the cave, when Rodney is intense pain, John has his arm around him the whole time and doesn't let go until he is himself again.
I love how everyone is so caring and surrounds him with love.
And ugh, the surgery - with fucking power tools. Barbaric. But necessary. But man, to hold your friend's head in your hands, holding him still, while a literal drill is going into his skull? I'd have passed out.
The only tiny little thing that was a bit jarring was Rodney's confession to Jennifer at the end, and just because for me, it came a bit out of left field. But I am nothing if not good at ignoring things that I don't like, so I'll just refer to fanfics that fix this. No harm done.
And finally.
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David Ian Hewlett.
Holy fuck, dude.
HOW are you not buried under a shitload of Emmys? How is there not a whole wing of your house dedicated to housing the tons of awards you should have gotten for this? (I know he did get quite a few, but I'm talking custom built shelves in at least four rooms. Minimum.)
Everyone brought their A game acting wise, but this guy knocked it out of the park. It was heartbreaking, moving, extremely believable, and just jaw-dropping. David is, in my opinion, one of the best, if not the best actor of the franchise, and I don't say that lightly. I have a massive crush on Joe Flanigan and he's great, same with Amanda Tapping, but David is just fantastic.
So yeah. There you have it. My very concise, totally normal opinion of this episode. I doubt anyone reads all of this, but hey, this is my tumblr and I do what I want.
If you did indeed sit through all of this, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to tag or reply or add stuff.
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anaslair · 2 months
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haiii! i saw your matchups so i wanted to see who you think i’d be good with!
according to online quizzes my godly parent is Dionysus (which is fair). I’m transmasc (they/he) and i don’t really have a dating preference, anyone is fine! Uh i really like to draw/write and i love photography, if you dropped me off in the woods i would entertain myself for hours and come back with millions of photos- I get really bad anxiety over social things, i struggle to order my own food or ask for things. When i worry i get bad stomach aches and sort of shut down during the day. Uhmmmmm I’m an INFJ if that helps! i despise medical offices (the dentist or the doctors) and i cannot stand needles- i will do anything and everything to get out of getting my flu shot. music is one of the most important things to me, i love physical CDs and i love making playlists on spotify for every possible mood i could be in. and finally i am 18, so aged up characters or older characters for sure!
LISTEN!! I was caught up between two people for you🫵👁️👁️ but after meticulously thinking about it, I hope you like who I ended up going with :)
For some matchups I love doing little drabbles or scenarios like this, I just cOULDNT RESIST with this one pls this was so fun to write. I hope you enjoy it anon🫶
Tysm for requesting!! Have a great day <3
I match you with…
Will Solace!!
-Disclaimer-
All of the characters were aged up to meet with the requester’s age so I could choose from all of them!!
Things had finally quieted down on camp half blood’s infirmary after the whole fighting Gaea incident
On a span of a month, the injured were all properly taken care of, which meant the worst thing Will had to deal with all day was an arrow removal from someone’s ass after the latest game of capture the flag
Usual stuff
He was honestly about to check if one of the Stoll brothers could steal him some snacks to pass the time when he heard screaming from outside the front door
Welp
So much for no work☹️
Checking the window, he saw someone- no wait. It was two people, one of them definitely being the head counselor of the Dionysus cabin, and the other a very freaked out brother of theirs
Oh this was gonna be good
Opening the door, he crossed his arms as he caught the end of the discussion the siblings were having
“…swear by the gods I’ll NEVER catch the flu, I can PROMISE you that” You pleaded to your sibling and counselor
“How can you promise not to get sick? Quit the bs and get the damn shot already, you’re the only one in the cabin who hasn’t and I swear by our father’s name that if someone gets sick because of you and your fear of needles you’re going down” Your sibling threatened as they pushed you up the few steps of the infirmary’s entrance
“No wait WAIT- I’ll do anything you want, I’ll clean the whole cabin by myself before inspection” you begged
“Not if you get sick you won’t” your sibling said
“What if I swear by the river Styx I won’t get sick?” You asked
“Are you actually insane-“ Your sibling asked
“I swear by the river Sty-“ you interrupted
“Hey, okay. Let’s stop that before you get yourself fried up over a cold” Will interrupted you this time, probably saving you from the never ending pain of breaking an oath made by the river Styx
Honestly, that actually sounded better than getting the gods damned flu shot. You weren’t kidding when you told your sibling you couldn’t do needles, you felt like throwing up
“Special delivery for ya Will, Good luck!” Your sibling yelled as they betrayed you, power walking back to y’alls cabin
Leaving a slightly shaken you with a very amused Will
Inside the infirmary, your leg bounced up and down high speed as you sat on Will’s office, waiting for him to bring back something for your stomach which was already very upset with the stress the whole situation was causing you
“Here, a sip should do the trick” Will said as he gave you a small cup of nectar, which lessened your discomfort considerably
“Thanks” you muttered, still very much anxious
“Look, I’m not going to do it against your will, but I could make it practically painless. What do you say?” Will asked, looking for some supplies
“If I gave you like, three whole dracmas, would you tell my counselor I got the shot?” You quickly asked
“What?”
“Make it four, no- five! It’s all I have on me right now-“
“Look- just, let’s just breathe a little alright? I’m not taking that weak ass bribe. That wouldn’t even get me a ride on the Gray sisters taxi, pipe down” Will finished
You scoffed out an incredulous laugh, seemed like you weren’t getting out of this one
“How about some music?” Will suddenly asked as he eyed the portable CD player you were carrying
Demigods weren’t allowed to use a phone since it was practically a monster magnet, but you didn’t mind it much seeing as you absolutely loved collecting Physical CDs of your favorite artists and bands. If you had music, you were good
You nodded, maybe that would help
Will opened a cabinet which you thought was probably packed up with medical supplies
To your surprise, it was actually completely filled with CDs and vinil records, a full on collection on display
Will was Apollo’s son after all, music was a big deal for him too. Being the best healer of the Apollo cabin made him spend a lot of time in the infirmary, so music definitely helped him get through the day
Your eyes were practically shining as you stared at the cabinet. Will seemed to be looking for something specific in it
“Here! This is my favorite-“ Will said as he took a CD out of his collection, handing it to you
“Oh what the fuck” you interrupted, taking your cd player out and pressing a button to open it, showing Will what was inside
The exact same CD Will was holding out, from the exact same band
You both smiled at each other
That was the start of HOURS of conversation, y’all only sat back down when Will had showed you everything he had on that cabinet
The conversation was so fluid that you guys ended up talking about a lot of things, getting to know each other, finding out you had more in common than you thought
Will was very appreciative of the arts in general, being an Apollo kid, it came naturally to him
Just as you were talking about your photography obsession, you both heard a few knocks at the main infirmary entrance
“Will? Uh- you guys alright in there? Did it go well?” Your head counselor inquired hesitantly
“Shit”
You and Will eyed each other, your eyes wide
Will checked the time, you had only a a few minutes before the harpies would end anybody that was out of their cabins
You both had absolutely lost track of time
And weirdly, you didnt seem to mind
“Okay, we can do this. I’ll give you the shot now okay? I’m just going to let your sibling know, I’ll be right back” Will said as he quickly made his way to the main entrance
Okay maybe now you did mind it a little bit
And that’s how you ended up with your eyes tightly shut, sweating an abnormal amount while Will applied some rubbing alcohol where he was going to stab you apply the shot
“Hey, I swear you won’t feel a thing if you give me those dracmas you promised” Will tried to lighten the mood
You didn’t respond, heart beating fast, nerves about to explode
Then you felt a warm hand in your arm
“Hey, it’s alright”
You opened your eyes to see Will’s directly in front of yours
He had lowered himself so he was at your eye level. And he was close, really close
“You’re going to be alright.” His tone was lower, softer
“Here” He put the earphones of your CD player into your ears
As your favorite song started playing loudly in your ears, Will smiled, mouthing a “Trust me”
He got up, directing himself to our side to apply the shot
Your hand tightened around the chair’s handle, you were still nervous, but way less then before
But your heart was still beating fast. Strange.
“So, on three?” You asked Will
“Already done” Will said, cleaning your arm up
What
You looked up at him, absolutely baffled
Being a son of the god of healing really had its perks
“Told you it wouldn’t hurt” He smiled, winking while at it
And there it was again, your heart beating just a little bit faster
You were still silently watching him, your eyebrows raised high
“So, you said you liked to take pictures right? The strawberry field is insane in the morning” Will started as he threw the syringe he used on you away
“Want me to show you a nice spot tomorrow?” He asked, eyeing you with a small smile
“Ah- yeah, sure” you blurted out
“Okay then, it’s a date”
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is-the-owl-video-cute · 7 months
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Okay, first sorry for presuming you didn't work with children - the way you talked about them at first was really oversimplificated, easy to misunderstand.
About "using Third Wolrd countries as props", sometimes they pop in the middle of an argument out of the blue and with no nuance at all. Like "don't eat quinoa, eat meat!" - we export meat and the contidions of workers in slaughterhouses are AWFUL too. We plant too much things to export (both for animal feeding and people), and for the exchange farmers don't plant local crops anymore, prices rise, and stuff. Not to mention mineration. Almost everything produced here, specially most brute products, come from exploitaition. I don't think individual buyers interfere much, maybe organized though.
Or the parrot thing. Shelters here are full too, to the point of workers saying "please find a new home for this lost bird yourself." (Happened to a co-worker that found a lost, absolutely healthy, and clearly imprinted parrot).
And to be honesty the discourse of "undomable parrots" "the WILD!" sounds also fetishing to me. You see? It is still a open question. You say what you want about husbandry, but how *we* feel is still open. What Europeans did to parrots is fact, what we make from it? It's *our* turn to discuss and decide.
These are just random ideas. Idk how you will receive them.
Also, I'm amused by the idea that some comments threw "imagine until they know about unicorns or dragons" or "they are adad". I'm totally for imagination, and if I made understand I'm against it I'm sorry. I'm not *against* whatever dino toys, I just *wish* we had more variety than JP bootlegs, including pleasant and accurate critters.
What I will say to you is that my response to parrots is very US-centric because that is where I live and have experience and knowledge about the exotic pet trade on a first hand level and because that is what OP specified they were speaking on in the first place.
I am not speaking for your country because I have not lived there and you haven’t disclosed which country you reside in meaning I can’t give any assumption to what the situation is there.
The state of parrots in the pet trade in the US is that anyone can buy as many parrots of whatever species they want as long as they pay a lot of money to the seller. The seller very rarely does any kind of background check to ensure the buyer even knows what they’re doing or what the bird eats, they take money and they give bird. There is often no way to verify that the parrots were bred for health and good temperament, or even that they weren’t bred to parents or siblings. There is often very little transparency about what methods they were imprinted with, there are several types of imprinting and some result in a nightmare bird and others result in a very calm bird.
Because you can profit off of selling large quantities of parrots with unique patterns or colors, there are a lot of people breeding them in unethical ways to do so cheaply while selling at the highest possible price. This, much like the human labor and land exploitations you’re referring to, are just the end result of capitalism. Rich white countries like things cheap and convenient so they imperialize and leech off of countries they intentionally sabotage financially so they have to stay in line.
Because of the mindset Americans have towards convenience and instant gratification, they go to a store, see a parrot, buy a tiny cage, and bring the parrot home with a bell toy, dowel perch, and just whatever bag of generic “parrot food” they happened to grab on the way out. Then the parrot is loud or bites or never talks so they cover it with a sheet, release it into their backyard, or force it onto an already overcrowded rescue.
Every type of parrot has unique needs, but they at the very least should be able to fly, have others of their species to interact with, and bonding activities that don’t frustrate or upset the bird. So many parrots in the pet trade here have never actually felt the sunlight aside from through a window. So many parrot cages are designed in ways that lead to damaged feathers. So many parrot cages have no room for the bird to stretch their wings or even have a private place to hide.
My stance on parrots is at the bare minimum people should have to go through a similar process falconers have to go through before getting their first raptor. Falconers here must build an enclosure that meets guidelines approved by the state department of wildlife, they must pass an exam regarding the natural history, husbandry, equipment, and training of the animal. They must study under a master falconer for two years before becoming fully independent in the sport. If we held people to this standard and required it before they could buy a parrot, I would have far less complaints I’m sure. But that isn’t the case. Every parrot I’ve worked with was a rescue, and every one of their stories was heartbreaking. Yes, true, people will neglect any given animal because people can be cruel, but the vast majority of parrot owners are still keeping them in terrible caging, still keeping them all by themselves, and it’s still greatly encouraged to breed more and more which just gets parrots killed or dumped at a rescue.
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hotchs-big-hands · 6 months
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Okay I was gonna ignore this but I just wanna set the record straight for this blog
So yesterday us girlies were discussing Aaron picking reader up, altho I was a bit sceptical imma be real with you but I'm more open to the idea now. It was fun and nice and I just love to be able to discuss with other fellow fat ppl abt hcs that suit us!
And then I received this ask:
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And I just 🧍
There's a lot to unpack here.
First of all, I wanna make it VERY clear that while I haven't specifically put this anywhere (altho I probably will now) that this blog is surrounding plus-size readers, THIS BLOG IS CENTERED AROUND PLUS-SIZE READERS. So PLEASE assume I'm talking abt a plus-size reader unless stated otherwise.
When I got this ask, I won't lie to you but it really soured my mood. I was having so much fun talking to my lovely anons and rb stuff and just overall a great time but then this showed up. And I was scared and felt bad that I felt this upset by this but listen.
Fandom spaces are NOT made for anyone except short, skinny, white girls. That's just an undeniable fact. Your average fanfic blog for characterxreader fics has one specific type of reader as the default. You can't say they don't. When I joined this fandom I could count on one hand the amount of AH x plus-size!reader fics there were. And so I thought hey I should maybe contribute and bring more out because we deserve to read something and KNOW we can picture ourselves in the stories too. Even if I haven't put on the asks and gif posts plus-size reader just please assume that's the type of reader I'm talking about.
So onto the content of the actual ask. First of all, stating you KNOW weight and image is a sensitive subject but still telling me DIRECTLY abt how much you weigh and how "bony" you are is fucking unacceptable. You know what you are doing is wrong but you did it anyway. What do you expect me to say to you about how much you weigh and how skinny you must be? Why do I need to know this specific information?? You don't see us fat ppl going around like "oh I weigh THIS amount and uwu my chunky arms and stomach are soooo detrimental to other ppl's comfort 🥺🥺" because why? The only exception is the B-belly anon and fic I wrote for them because I have the same stomach type and understand how they feel.
And if you're actually THAT concerned about your health like you claim to be? Go to a fucking doctor. I'm not a fucking doctor. I'm a 23 year old dumbass in 2nd year of uni doing illustration. It's the attempted manipulative language in this whole ask that just left a sour taste in my mouth.
Am I saying skinny/slim ppl can't be insecure? Fuck no. ANYONE can be insecure. But the world is more willing to support and uplift skinny ppl than fat ppl. So we have to uplift each other and ourselves. And so because of that if the conversation isn't relatable enough for skinny people then they feel the need to directly insert themselves and make it all about them. I'm sorry but no. Not here you're not. You want to feel uplifted abt your fave character? Go read the hundreds of other fanfics that exist with your body type in mind. And if you disagree with this take then like. I don't really fucking care. Block me.
To the anon who did write this and if you're reading this post now:
I don't hate you. But this was not very nice and not okay to do. Again, if you're that concerned abt your health then talk to a doctor. This is HOPEFULLY the first and last time I'll need to talk about this.
If you've read this far I thank you and apologies for making the dash a bit sour. But I just couldn't keep this out of my mind.
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mcflymemes · 1 year
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PROMPTS FROM THE MANDALORIAN *  assorted dialogue from season 1, episodes 7 and 8
that was a joke.
i think we should go.
this will make you complete.
at least out there, we've got a shot.
i would prefer to avoid any further violence, and encourage a moment of consideration.
i'm out of ideas.
care to double the bet?
i will very much make it worth your while.
hey, stop the boat!
did you know about this?
no no! stop! we're friends!
it seems like a straightforward operation.
this is the lava river.
it means more to me than you will ever know.
i have one more gift for your journey.
the minute we open the door, we're dead.
i'm not gonna make it.
i don't know. i've been advised to lay low.
they must know we're coming.
hey, i'm talking to you! i said stop!
yet somehow you walk free.
you know how it is.
i guess we can call it even.
should we offer that thing some water?
are we gonna keep talking or are we gonna get out of here?
i'm afraid i have more pressing matters at hand.
show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.
you wish me to train this thing?
i'm shooting my way out of here.
you may wanna check again.
we're still moving.
i've seen otherwise.
i'm already free of worry, and i'm not in the mood to play soldier anymore.
we should at least discuss an escape plan.
i haven't heard that name spoken since i was a child.
if you're asking if you can trust me, you cannot.
i would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand.
i will act in my own self-interest.
this is unacceptable.
you may think you have some idea what you are in possession of. but you do not.
let's go over the plan again.
do you trust me?
you just wanna look at it.
i'm not hungry.
looks old. will it take the heat?
there is nothing to be sad about.
that's not good enough.
i can no longer carry this for you.
listen, you're not going anywhere.
we're getting close. saddle up.
did you do this? did you?
i can hold them back long enough for you to escape.
i will have no choice but to kill you.
we can make it.
at least cover your tattoo. no need to flaunt it.
get me close to him and i'll kill him.
would anyone care for some tea?
really? that could be a problem.
looks like we fight.
that's a go to proceed, but i advise you to double check.
it is meant to put you at ease.
thank you. i will wear this with honor.
i need to remove your helmet if i am to save you.
we need you.
if we can get down there, they can help us escape.
some of my favorite people are bounty hunters.
i'm not... sad.
i don't have a choice.
that's a good idea.
i don't care to find out.
what is that thing, anyway?
it was left behind in the wake of your destruction.
well, then what do you suggest? 'cause i can't surrender.
did any survive?
you got a better idea?
we need you.
i'm coming with you.
the plan was to kill you.
you have no choice.
who is this guy?
it is a shame that your people suffered so.
it looks helpless.
i get that point. do you get the point?
what did you do?
let's get the hell out of here.
you might be surprised to hear this, but i am alive too.
i will eliminate any enemy and you will escape.
what do you propose?
any update yet?
watch your feet.
i see nothing but death and chaos.
i've run into some problems.
you have something i want.
that's easy for you to say.
come with us.
i'm not gonna make it and you know it.
this is our only path out. can you clear it?
i won't leave you.
you don't have that kind of firepower.
i will not abandon this place until i have salvaged what remains.
you're staying here?
is there another way out?
he's trying to eat me.
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