#He gets so many contradictory statements about being a man and not a boy

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Benjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. “You don’t miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a man like you on the Wall.”

Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

“Notable achievements.”

“Take me with you when you go back to the Wall,” Jon said in a sudden rush. “Father will give me leave to go if you ask him, I know he will.”

Uncle Benjen studied his face carefully. “The Wall is a hard place for a boy, Jon.”

“I am almost a man grown,” Jon protested. “I will turn fifteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children.”

“That’s true enough,” Benjen said with a downward twist of his mouth. He took Jon’s cup from the table, filled it fresh from a nearby pitcher, and drank down a long swallow.

“Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.

“A conquest that lasted a summer,” his uncle pointed out. “Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn’t a game.” He took another sip of wine. “Also,” he said, wiping his mouth, “Daeron Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?”

“I forget nothing,” Jon boasted. The wine was making him bold. He tried to sit very straight, to make himself seem taller. “I want to serve in the Night’s Watch, Uncle.”

In fandom, we often talk about Jon’s antics in his first AGOT chapter - e.g., boasting about being the better swordsman than Robb, his admiration of Daeron I, his insistence that he is a man and not a boy - as evidence of his immaturity. And there’s nothing wrong with that interpretation at all - I for one think that it’s very valid - but I rarely ever see this exchange with Benjen put in its full context; more specificallyy, the full context of what’s happening this entire chapter (and honestly what’s being going on in Jon’s life up to that point).

Because there’s something so…depressing and tragic about a fourteen year old boy desperately trying to grow up faster than is necessary because once he is a man, then there must be a place for him in this world. Because this exchange with Benjen is not happening in a vacuum. It arises out of the situation where the delineation between Jon’s social status and that of his siblings has been made ever more clear: his siblings get to sit at the high table with the visiting royal family whereas Jon has to sit with the squires far away from familiar company. But more importantly, he is a Snow and his siblings are Starks. They have a place of belonging (afforded to them by their Stark name) whereas he does’t (because he’s a bastard).

So Jon has to nurse his wounds with the belief that despite his bastardy, there has to be something he can do to belong. And what can he do, except grow up and be a man? At…fourteen years old?

So even though Robb can sit among royalty, Jon can still hold a sword just as well (in fact better) and ride a horse. He can be great too, not because of his name but because of his ability; but I do have to quibble with Benson’s (seemingly) sarcastic response to Jon’s answers here. Are you even bothering to actually listen to what Jon is saying, Uncle Ben?

And I have to admit that it makes me quite angry that the notion of bastards growing up faster than trueborns is not at all challenged among the characters. Do bastards actually grow up faster, or are they forced to fend for themselves faster than trueborns naturally would, just like Jon is in this chapter? It certainly doesn’t help that Benjen agrees with he statement, despite literally contradicting it just some few minutes earlier (by saying that Jon is just a boy and thus too young to make any life decisions for himself - like joining the Watch).

And as I was pondering on this, I realized that Jon really has been getting contradictory “advice” all his life: he’s a bastard so he has to grow up faster and cut his childhood short so he can make use of himself, but he’s actually a boy so his abilities and desires to advance are only a boy’s delusions, but then he has to join the watch and be a man and do a man’s job (and make a man’s sacrifices as Luwin would put it 🙄), but then he’s still a boy at the end of it all.

Given all this emotional and mental whiplash, Jon is actually quite well adjusted. I couldn’t imagine having to be pulled into 1000 different directions because at the heart of it the question is: is he a man or is he a boy? And what can he do, boy or man that he is, because he’s still a bastard?

I think this chapter shows that no one really bothered to sit Jon down and tell him that it’s okay to be a child, and that he doesn’t have to age far beyond his years because there’ll be someone to look out for him.

Worse yet, this chapter shows a young boy desperate to find a place for himself in the world, because no one else bothered to do so.

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. IV

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,174

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jungkook snaps, lots of family drama, mommy issues, oc being accommodating, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues but trying to be good hubby, jk gives oc more hope!

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: this week's flashback hint–nothing like a little dilf rivalry! Also, this chapter gives more of a reason why jk is adverse to parenthood 😶 My closing notes offer some explanations. Let's go! 💞

<< ch. III ༓ ch. V >> | series masterlist

For the first 22 years of your life, you had zero partners.

Most people labeled you as being jaded, stuck up, or having too high of standards for it. But fuck it. Why couldn’t anyone accept that you weren’t about to settle down with the first interested guy just 'cause of peer pressure?

Of course, you'd likely end up with someone eventually. You have gone out on a couple of dates before. Yet they were never that promising. The men, or excuse you, boys roughly your age did nothing to woo you. They just wanted a late-night fuck at 1 a.m. or a nice, cute girl to take home to their mom.

Not that you gave a hell what others were into or anything, but you had other agendas. Getting married and birthing children before kick-starting your adult life was not in your playbook. Neither was jumping into bed with random guys every week.

So you haven't had much luck in the romance department. Good riddance to it!

What you were waiting for was a gentleman. Someone that was responsible, mature, and experienced. Bonus points if they were into the arts. But it was rare to find a suitor of such quality–who wasn't ridiculously off-limits that is. Obviously, some other strong-willed man or woman sunk their claws in before you got the chance. Drats.

4 years ago

“I can’t believe you,” your best friend giggles. “You’re going to that fancy new art exhibit downtown just to run into Dr. Kim! You’re so shameless __.”

You roll your eyes and stick your plate in the dishwasher. You’re best friend Na-Rae has been one of your closest friends since your second year of undergrad. Now into your third year of friendship, you consider her as close as a sister.

Unlike you, Na-Rae is utterly fascinated with all things STEM-related. She’s currently in med school aiming to become a surgeon, which is one of the many reasons why you and her are currently roommates.

“I’m telling you one more time, I’m not going for him. I actually want to see the paintings which should come as no surprise to you. Dr. Kim just happens to be going too.”

Na-Rae leans against the kitchen island, tongue in cheek. “If that’s what you wanna tell yourself, babe. But how, may I ask, did you know he’d be there? Are you stalking him online now?”

“Of course not. I’m not a creep Na-Rae.” You throw her a dirty look. Honestly, she really thinks you’re some obsessed fangirl. Like yes, Dr. Kim is really hot for an older guy, and the fact that he’s basically the second dean of the art department? He may or may not visit you in your dreams. Especially after studying for Dr. Jeon’s fifteen million econ exams.

Now there’s a guy who definitely knows how to stick it to you.

“Besides,” you continue. “Dr. Kim doesn’t have social media.” You don’t notice how contradictory that statement sounds until your best friend lets out a sinister cackle.

“Looked him up did you?” She hits your arm, wiggling her eyebrows tauntingly. “I knew it! I knew you were stalking him!”

“I–I am not! Stop that!” You ignore her looks, seeing it best to avoid eye contact altogether.

"Iovmererdhimalkingintheallway."

"C'mon, you know I can't understand that. You did what?"

"I over…heardhimalkingintheallway," you repeat, skirting most of the sentence again.

"For the love of might __! Why are you being so–"

"I overheard him talking in the hallway!" Once you blurt the words out you scurry out of the kitchen. "Gotta get my laundry, bye!"

"Uh-__!" Na-Rae races to catch up to you. "Explain to me how that's not being stalkerish!"

You grab your laundry basket and set it next to the dryer. "It wasn't intentional alright? I happened to be passing by at the right moment." You pop the door open, stuffing your clothes in the basket. Na-Rae casually watches you from the doorway.

"Right," she says. "Just happened to overhear Dr. Kim's whereabouts on a Friday night and just happen to be going to the same place. But definitely not planned because the dress you're currently trying to hide from me isn't meant for him to coincidentally see. Oops, my bad."

You release said dress from your hand aggressively. "Dr. Kim is at least a decade older than me and he's a high-level faculty member of the university. I'm not seriously trying to present myself to him in any romantic sense. That would be so inappropriate! And as far as the dress goes, it's the grand opening tonight. Everyone's wearing these kinds of things. So no, you're wrong."

"Very well, if the lady persists," Na-Rae shrugs, checking her phone. "Shoot, I gotta get to work in fifteen but I expect a full report later!" You watch as she hustles to her room.

.

The exhibit's doors open at 7 pm sharp. The line to the entrance runs about three blocks which is far longer than you were expecting. Most people came in groups or pairs, making you wish Na-Rae didn't have to work tonight.

But you're right about this being a formal affair. Everyone is dressed to kill. Some lean more towards black tie while others choose to show off their highly expressive, avant-garde nature.

You look down at yourself, suddenly feeling quite underdressed. You're wearing a simple black dress that's cinched at the waist. If one were to look close enough they'd see hints of gold throughout but no one would get that close.

The artwork itself is stunning. Varying from abstraction to impressionism, you get a sense of pleasure in taking in others’ inspiration. Many of these works are from locals in the area which is one of the main reasons for the number of interested guests. You wonder if anyone here knows the artists directly.

You make your way to the next set of pieces, studying the first in line. You immediately recognize the particular style as post-impressionism. It's clear the artist has great influence by Van Gogh evident from the similar large yet controlled strokes.

As you continue observing the work you feel a second body, looming close beside you. Naturally, you shift your eyes over to see the source. His hair brushes past his face as he leans closer to the painting.

After about three seconds you quickly dart your eyes away, careful not to stare. The man appears to be equally as focused on the work in front of him, as you were. It'd be a bit embarrassing if he noticed your gaze and snapped at you for it.

The man next to you slowly straightens his bent-over posture. He moves to the other side of you, viewing the next painting on your right. You barely catch the slight glance he gives you in the process, now able to see his full face.

It's not Dr. Kim–it's Dr. Jeon.

This isn't weird, you try convincing yourself. It's perfectly normal for you to see your professor in public. Besides, who knows if he actually recognized you yet. No need to make this awkward if you simply pretend not to notice him.

You think about whether to sneakily slip away or continue to feign ignorance until…

"Are we going to keep side-eyeing each other or can I say hi?" Dr. Jeon lightly smiles at you with playful eyes. His glasses are different today–thinner design. And oh, is that a...lip ring? Is that new or has he always had it? You don't remember seeing it before. "If you keep staring at my lips like that I might get shy."

"Ahha, Dr. Jeon!" You fight the stirring of your nerves. "Hi! Sorry, I didn't mean to stare or anything. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Please, __. Outside of class, Jungkook is fine. Though I understand if that's a little out of place for you."

A little?! You've been calling Dr. Jeon, well, Dr. Jeon for the past two weeks. It's unlikely that will change. "If it's alright with you," you start, hands restless. "I'd like to stick with the usual."

Jungkook nods, giving you a brief once-over before replying. "Sure, no problem. I'm hoping you'll warm up to the idea though. Dr. Jeon makes me feel old." He lets out a throaty chuckle. "I'd ask what brings you to this art exhibit but I think I have the answer, given the amount of sketches I see you doing while I'm lecturing."

Oh god. Your professor calling you out for both gawking at his lips and doodling in class under the span of five minutes? You've never wanted to disappear more. The sketches you do aren't meant to look like a distraction and honestly, you didn't mean to gawk at the tiny ring, it was just there!

"Sorry," he continues. "That wasn't intended to be passive-aggressive. I really don't mind as long as they don't hinder your learning. Dr. Kim does the same thing whenever I'm talking to him too. I've summed it up to an itch all you artists have. I've come here in support of him actually." He gestures to the collection of paintings next to you; the post-impressionism ones you were intent on studying earlier.

"Oh wow," you gasp stupidly, following his gesture. You didn't even clue in to read the artist's name.

Stigma by Kim Taehyung.

"I had no idea Dr. Kim had some of his work displayed here. I feel so foolish. I was viewing his pieces for I don't know how long just a few minutes ago."

You were sure Dr. Kim was attending the exhibit for the same reasons as you. But while it was partially right, you obviously missed the biggest point.

"Don't fret," a deep, honey-coated voice comes from nowhere. "Any admirer of my work is a friend of mine." He strolls up to your left, Jungkook still on your right. "I don't believe we've met yet. Dr. Kim Taehyung." He tosses a hand out for you to shake.

Oh no, no no no. You hope to death you won't start sweating. You've never been this close to Kim Taehyung before and he wants you to hold his hand! "Pleasure to meet you Dr. Kim. I'm __," you say, struggling not to burst inside.

Okay, so it's not exactly holding hands but it's close enough. His fingers are so long and elegant. You can't wipe the grin off your face.

You're squeezing it now, stop stop stop. You mentally slap yourself and retract your hand as naturally as you can. Thank fuck no one can read your mind.

"I'm sorry your name is __?" Dr. Kim freezes as if suddenly needing to remember something. When you think he's recalled whatever it is he needs, he flicks his head over to Jungkook with a twinkle in his eye. "__," he repeats aloud.

"Uhm, yes..." You're definitely missing something. You look between the two men, apparently both intent on keeping you in omnious silence. What's so facinating about your name?

Taehyung whips his head back to face you, flashing a blinding grin. "You're the little artist in Jungkook's class aren't you?"

That's what this is about? He looks far too proud of himself for connecting those dots.

"Yeah I take ECON 602 with Dr. Jeon." You make the mistake of looking at Jungkook mid-sentence. For some odd reason, his previous mirthful expression has changed to one of bitter distaste.

"She isn't little," Jungkook intrudes, nearly snapping at the older man. "Little is what you call a child and it's inappropriate for you to call her that."

What the hell....? How is Dr. Kim calling you little bothering your professor more than you?

"My apologies," Taehyung says. "But she's your student, right? The one drawing during your lectures? I think she drew you once. Exquisite may I add. You captured his pissed-off look so well." He gives you a pleased look but you're too sheepish to form a reply.

"Yes, I wasn't having the best day. Can I talk to you a moment Dr. Kim? We'll be right back __, just a second." Jungkook grabs the older's arm, yanking him out of your earshot.

"What the hell are you doing, Taehyung?" Jungkook spits. "You're making my student uncomfortable."

"Aha, so she is the artist. Look I admit that using the term little was a misstep but I think she's alright. I apologized didn't I?"

"Yeah sure, but she's not alright." He makes air quotes. "Since you've also made it seem like anything she does in my class, I spill to you! Don't you see how uneasy that would make someone feel? Especially me being her professor. She could be thinking I tell you weird things too! See what you've done?!"

"But Jungkook," Taehyung drawls, face scrunching. He's not sure what's gotten Jungkook so worked up. "You do in fact regurgitate everything to me. You've been talking about her for the last week just to one-up me that she's an artist. Now I get to have a face to the name. I'm kinda tickled about it but also, what weird things are you referring to?" Taehyung pauses, eyes going as big as a saucer. "Oh my god, bro. Are you–"

Jungkook grunts firmly, shutting the man up at once. "Absolutely not Tae. Whatever you were about to say, it couldn't be a bigger no. All I'm asking is for you to keep the private things private. I don't want you blubbering everything to her."

"Very well," Taehyung hums, stealing a glance at you behind Jungkook's shoulder. From where he stood, he had an easy view of you moving down the line of paintings. You stop in front of each one, curiously examining them the best you can. "However, she's quite intriguing. I can't make any promises that I'll hold myself back."

"You better be talking about her mutual interest in art. She's my student and we have an obligation through the university not to fraternize with any–"

"Yes yes, your student. I don't need a reminder of where my boundaries are, but perhaps you do....bringing up fraternizing and all." Taehyung moves past Jungkook, striding back over to you. "Whatever else can there be besides professional or academic affairs? Of course, we're keeping our witts about us Kookie."

Behind him, Jungkook huffs and follows his lead. Then wipe that stupid smirk off your face, he thinks.

Present

Dinner is rough.

Jungkook's parents showing up unannounced and uninvited throws you both in a very quick, downward spiral. How can two people have so much time on their hands? Retirement, that's how.

You try your hardest to keep the conversation light throughout dinner, but it's obvious the air has grown thick between your husband and his mother.

"Why didn't you come to the reunion last year?" your mother-in-law presses for the second time tonight. She clutches the napkin in her hand, anxious for his response.

Jungkook sits across the table. His posture stiffens at the question. "I'm sorry, I had a lot to do. The reunion is always so close to when I have to go back to the university that I just didn't have the time."

A loud, impatient sigh comes from back across the table. "You didn't have the time or didn't make it? Honesty Jungkook, you expect me to believe that?"

When Jungkook doesn't answer, you and your father-in-law exchange troublesome looks. "Honey," Mr. Jeon speaks up, placing a hand on her shaky one. "You know how full the school year is for Jungkook. Don't blame him. Maybe he can come this year if we reschedule for a more convenient time." He pleads with his son, hopeful eyes.

"Stop helping him." She looks at Mr. Jeon and then back to Jungkook. "I don't think I'm asking for a lot. I just want you there, you and __."

At that, you find yourself gripping your husband's arm from under the table. Jungkook shifts in his seat and stares dead straight into his mother's eyes. "Funny you say that," he seethes. You tug on his arm in desperation to calm him. "Seeing that you keep dropping by at random times throughout the year, I'd say you expect a great deal from us."

Mrs. Jeon immediately snatches her hand from your father-in-law's. "Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd come to the reunion. Or called, texted, or even emailed at this point. If it weren't for my efforts, I wouldn't hear from you at all."

"Please," Mr. Jeon pleads again, this time to both parties. "We're having dinner. Let's continue this later." He reaches for the bowl in the middle of the table but he's quickly ignored.

"You're right." Jungkook cuts. "Maybe I should come. Because it's one more way you can get what you want, isn't it? All those years of hard work so you can show me off to everyone."

"Don't you talk to me like that," Mrs. Jeon grits. "If I wanted to show you off it'll be when you give me a grandchild! I'm lucky to even have a daughter-in-law by now."

Chair legs scrape against the hardwood floor and your arm snakes out from Jungkook's arm. Your husband stands at the table, Mr. Jeon follows suit. "Okay, okay, let's just–"

"Dad," Jungkook interrupts. "Can you please take Mom home for the night?"

"Are you okay?" you pop the question once your in-laws leave for the night, a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Mrs. Jeon looked completely bewildered, whereas Mr. Jeon looked deeply troubled; conflicted between wife and son. You have a feeling he has a better understanding of what happened than you do right now.

"I wish she hadn't come today," Jungkook plops on the bed. You sit beside him. "I'm sorry about what she said about you....I knew she was here for something."

You won't lie. When Mrs. Jeon mentioned being lucky to finally have a daughter-in-law, it stung. You detest being seen as an achievement. "I'm sure she didn't mean it like that since she said it out of impulse. It was a tense moment," you say. "As far as what she was getting at though, it was for you to go to the reunion."

"No." He shakes his head and then glances at you. "It's not about the reunion. She only wants me to go so she can show everyone how smart and successful her son has become–all her doing of course. It's been like that since high school. And she wants you to go for a similar reason."

"I knew your mom had a bit of a thing for status but I thought that mostly revolved around her profession. Also, when she was talking earlier about you not keeping in touch she seemed more hurt and sad than mad. I think she really just wants you there."

"If she seemed hurt it's because she didn't get her way," Jungkook says, nonchalant.

"Jungkook."

"I'm sorry but it's true" He adjusts his position, angling himself to face you. "Mom's used to calling the shots– at work, at home, even with our neighbors growing up. You've seen how dad is around her. Yeah, he pushes back a little but at the end of the day, he does what's asked of him."

Frightened to ask the next question, you swallow hard. "What aren't you telling me Jungkook?"

He gently takes your hand from your lap, rubbing small circles on the knuckles. "Growing up, she was hardly around or involved in my brother and I's life. Most weeks, she and Dad would be at work, and we'd be with a babysitter or nanny. Dad did what he could to take care of us but Mom? All she would do is prune us to be just like her...smart, successful, and a dash more to make up for all the achievements she couldn't make."

"Jungkook...I don't know what to say," you murmur, trying to take everything in. "But your PhD–"

"My decision but her influence. Though she wasn't pleased when I said I'd be relocating ten hours away."

You remember him telling you this part before. His mother had a hard time coping with his reluctance to stay nearby. Maybe she did want him to follow in her footsteps. "Your brother didn't have as much pressure on him did he?"

"He did, but he still bends to her will. Except for the grandchildren part." Jungkook grimaces, averting eye contact. "I guess we have that in common."

"Hey," you urge him to lift his head. "Please don't feel bad about telling me any of this. If your picture of parents has largely been their absence and desire for self-fulfillment, then I understand your grounds for not wanting children. And as far as tonight with your mom, I'm so sorry. I feel like it's partially my fault for agreeing to host them for two days."

A pair of soft eyes rest on you in the dim room. The sun was near set now and all the light previously shining into the room had come from the window. If this wasn't a serious moment you might take a candid shot of your husband.

"You're the best thing that's happened to me __," Jungkook coos. "Don't ever think your kindness is a fault." He pauses then continues. "I still want both my parents in my life but I need to draw boundaries or I will completely snap and that's not something I want to happen. Especially since we have a possible baby to make one day."

"Hu–huh?" It's the repetition of the last sentence that makes you utterly dumbfounded.

Baby? Baby with Jungkook. One day?

Your husband draws his hand up to barely caress your cheek. "Why does that always seem to stop your heart?"

You catch his wrist mid-movement and throw yourself into him. Your arms link around his neck, chest flat against his. "It doesn't stop my heart," you say, playing with his hair. "It makes it beat faster."

"Wow." Your husband hugs you closer. "So cheesy." He leans back after, pressing a soft kiss to yours.

The two of you continue making out like teenagers again; Jungkook tumbling on his back.

"Kook." You lay on top of him, straddling his sides. "Have you ever thought about seriously talking to your mom about you know, everything you told me?"

Jungkook hums, before answering. "Somewhat but, I'm not sure how that'll go."

"It might be worth it instead of having little pieces slip out when you get into conflict...like tonight for instance."

"I suppose it's not a far-fetched idea. I'll consider it but it might take some more time. For now, I think I'll start by calling her tomorrow. I'm still mad but I don't wanna leave things the way they are now. Plus, I'm sure they don't have plans to go back home early. I'd hate for them to stay in the hotel the rest of these two days."

"Sounds like a plan," you say, snuggling into the crook of his neck.

"Mom." Jungkook holds the phone to his ear. "What are you and Dad doing today?"

"Oh, I–," his mom stutters from the other end. "We're not up to too much. I think your dad wants to swing by some bookstore around town. Uh, what about you?"

"__ at work and I'm home by myself. Are you hungry? I thought maybe we could go out for brunch."

Jungkook hears his mom's tone lift. "Are you sure? I mean that would be lovely but if there are things you need to do then we don't want to...impose."

Mrs. Jeon's sudden willingness to check in is unexpected. Jungkook still senses traces of guilt but at least she's making somewhat of an effort.

"It's my treat," he assures, a little shaky. "I'm sorry about yesterday, mom. Maybe we can talk about it more in person."

"I think that would be good," she agrees simply. "Where and what time do you want to meet up?"

"Drive over here in twenty minutes. We can pile in my car and head over."

Once finally agreed, Jungkook ends the call. He opens his messages and shoots you a text.

Jungkook: Well I did it  😬 [sent at 10:42 a.m]

__: Proud of you ❤️ if anything happens, call me. [sent at 10:44 a.m]

Jungkook: I will. Also, sorry to bring it up but I gotta give Yoongi hyung an answer by tomorrow. Are we babysitting his twins Saturday? [sent at 10:47 a.m]

__: Ahm, it'll likely be the evening, right? [sent at 10:48 a.m]

Jungkook: Probably [sent at 10:49 a.m]

__: I guess, sure. We're going to need to put some stuff away though 😅 And get something fun for them to do! [sent by 10:51 a.m]

Jungkook: Noted but I'm sure they'll bring lots to do. Yoongi hyung is a big sofie for his girls. He buys them everything–literally 🫠 [sent at 10:52 a.m]

__: True. I have to get back to work now but love you xoxo [sent at 10:53 a.m]

A/N: Surprise! jk has mommy issues and they've has been triggered. Was hoping how he talked, thought, & acted towards her in the last chapter gave hints. On the brighter side, jungkook is another step closer to babyville! And next flashback will be something exciting! Lmk if you wanna be tagged or have thoughts in comments or asks! 💞

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[pendulum-sonata]

10, 12 and 25 if you want to do the new ask game.

Oh hey there!

Gonna have to put this under read more because it got long :P

10.- Worst part of fanon

Man, this is tough choice, and I feel like depending on how the fandom behaves my feelings on which is the worst one changes periodically, but I have top 3 fanons that I hate, in no specific order:

The dimensional counterparts are as whole the protagonists of Arc V: I feel like I don't need to elaborate much on this, but I will anyway just because: Yuya is the protagonist, Yuzu is a deuteragonist and REIJI not anyone else is the Tritagonist, anyone who thinks any of the counterparts have some sort of claim over these spota just for being a counterparts earns an automatic eye roll from me, do me a favor and stop giving them credit for things that were done by Yuya or Yuzu.

Shun/Ruri/Yuto/anyone from the xyz dimension/resistance were the best or most badass characters!!: People who have followed me for a while know my stance on this, but yeah, no, not only this isn't true, like in the slightest, Yuto's saving grace was being absorbed by Yuya early on and as such deified by fandom, Ruri was ultimately used for Shun's brother manpain, and Shun who was arguibly the most "developed" had such a sloppy, contradictory and derailed development that people need to reshape him into another person to actually fit the image they have of him, no, I'm will neither elaborate or change my opinion, sorry, but also, not sorry.

Yuya is the worst YGO protagonist EVER!!!: No, this one pisses me off so much for how dumb it is, that I won't even try to rip it to shreds, because that would imply it's an actual argument and not just a hater statement. If you "like" Arc V but hate Yuya, then you didn't understand Arc V at all, period.

12.- The unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

REIJI, REIJI, REIJI, REIJI, REIJI, REIJI....

Seriously people it's so weird that people have had something against him since day 1, took at face value the antoganist mask he wore in order to keep his true intentions under wraps and called it a day when it came to his character, he's like the antithesis of Shun in the fandom, because not only will people straight up make up things to make him fit the distorted negative image they have of him, and more than a couple times I've found people actually crediting his acomplishments on Shun of all characters (like calling him yuya's rival, wtf??) which puzzles me so much, I even forget to be angry about it.

Why should more people like him? Um, because his character is the perfect foil/rival for Yuya? The rational to his emotion, the caution to his impulsiveness, the one with his feet on the ground to his dreams and ideals and a long etcetera, but they're also two boys who suffer from abandoment issues and the weight of expectations placed on them who were forced to grow up too soon and become friends through cooperation and mutual trust rather than some dick measuring contest.

Because he's refreshing take on a cliche character in the franchise, and the traits that would make him so get turned into true traits and flaws; he's a teenage genius alright, but he's still 16 so his ideals can still get in his way, he's callous and calculating and it makes Yuya antagonize him and distrust him, he's very guarded but he's also responsible and intensely protective of the people who work with him.

I could go on, but yeah, people should like him more, he deserves it.

25.- Common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

I was gonna rant about one, but after realizing I have too many and this post is already too long I'm just gonna put this list:

The ending is shitty (this includes 99% of the individual complains of it)

The Synchro arc is filller (this one is just a boring take at this point)

Sawatari should have won a duel (say it with me: winning duels does not equal character development)

Yuzu is useless after season 1 (...🙄)

The egao is like a cult (I seriously hope you never encounter a RL cult recruiter, you wouldn't recognize them tbh...)

x character should have been carded (no they shouldn't, shut up)

Ray is a mary sue/deus ex machina (...go sit in the corner and read what those are okay?)

Reira was fridged (Wtf???)

Reiji should have been evil and working with Leo (refer to my previous answer...)

They ruined [inser legacy character here] (you're legacy character is fine, chill)

Yusho is the worst dad evar!!! (Did you miss the other dad training child soldiers??)

Pendulum summon sucks (Again, did you even like Arc V?)

If you genuinely believe any of these, well, everyone is entitled to their opinions, but not only I don't wanna talk to you, if you shove it in my dash or the main tags constantly, you earn a free ticket to my block list.

[childrenofthenightt]

That’s The Way (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warning(s): Jimmy and Y/N falling in love at first sight🥺, nsfw insinuations in the beginning but nothing bad, language

Author’s notes: It’s Jimmy time, mates! I’m so sorry for making you wait so long! Slow burns can suck like that sometimes. I hope you’re enjoying the plot so far, and that it wasn’t what you expected! There’s so much more drama to come, though, so I hope you’re excited for that😂 As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

------

Y/N’s train ride home from The Yardbirds’ hotel was a constant swirl of what the fucks booming in her mind: what the fuck just happened, what the fuck does this mean, what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck is Jim doing, what the fuck will this become?  

Out of all the things on God’s good, green earth he could have wanted, he wanted her to kiss him. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Y/N thought when she initially heard the request. Then, when she questioned it, he escalated it to a blowjob since she thought a kiss was “too tame.” Y/N eventually did kiss Jim, as he wished. She was pretty sure that he still wanted her to kiss him after his little upgrade, and boy, was she right. ‘He called me a princess’, she remembered...what the hell was that supposed to mean?

As contradictory as it was, her mind was racing with so many thoughts, yet, at the same time, none at all. She was in overdrive, unable to think straight. Y/N forced herself to come to her senses as the train neared her stop, since her parents could not see the sheer bewilderment in her eyes and facial expression as she walked into her home. They would ask question after question, interrogating her as if she had committed a crime they had to get to the bottom of. She had to admit, reluctantly, that this was exciting. The star-studded aspect of it, the secrecy… It was a rollercoaster ride, yet Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to get off anytime soon. In the back of her mind, though, she knew this little dalliance wasn’t going to lead to anything serious.

Jim, however, currently sitting at the foot of his bed in an empty hotel room, was in a complete daze. He couldn’t comprehend that this was reality. The most beautiful girl in the whole world had just sucked him off, and then kissed him! She was completely obedient yet willing, and adorably shy, blushing every two seconds. But the kiss. It was dizzyingly soft, sweet, and passionate on her part. To Jim, this meeting of lips was perfect. Addictive. Devastatingly addictive, like a drug. He wanted more. Her lips were something else to taste and feel. He wondered if she would ever come back to him with intimate intentions. Perhaps even to spend the night, or something even more serious. By the way she so often smiled in a bright and enthusiastic way, Jim thought she just might. He had come to the conclusion, after continuously replaying what had happened just minutes ago in his head, that he was falling hopelessly in love with this girl. His Y/N.

Jim had never felt like this before.

And he didn’t know what to do about it.

~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later...

Y/N’s mum had sent her and her brother Charlie by train into London to go grocery shopping, and perhaps to visit Carnaby Street, Portobello Market, and the Oxfam charity shops to get some new clothes for themselves. Pushing the cart around the supermarket, Y/N and Charlie looked intently at the handwritten list their mum had given them.

“Alright, what do we need next?” Y/N asked, her head tilted to see the small piece of paper.

“Uh, we still have to get oatmeal, eggs, and some fruits and vegetables,” Charlie replied, mirroring Y/N’s position as he gazed down at the list in his hands, which was slowly being painted with black ink. They were making good time, all things considered.

“Let’s go to the produce section then, so we can get everything all in one go,” Y/N decided, starting to push the cart in that direction.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Charlie’s nod served as confirmation, and the two walked on, gazes captured every-so-often by the gaggle of people passing by.

Once the two siblings reached their desired destination, Y/N began inspecting the clear clamshell containers of assorted berries as Charlie went to fetch a bag of broccoli florets and a variety of potatoes. As Y/N began placing the fruit in the cart, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

She turned around to see a very domestic-looking Jeff Beck, pushing around a grocery cart, just like she was. It was odd to see him going about his life as though he was just an ordinary working-class man, especially being the revered guitar god he was. Y/N laughed at the sight as he came over towards her.

“Hi Jeff,” Y/N greeted, walking over to give him a hug.

“Hello darling,” he responded, tilting the girl back and forth in the hug, long arms cradling her against his chest. “How are you doing?”

Y/N looked at him with a small grin after pulling away. An exhale passes through pursed lips as she replies. “As well as I can be, I guess. How ‘bout you?”

“Can’t complain,” he smiled, which then turned a little more solemn. He reached out a hand to place on her upper arm in solace. “I’m still really sorry about Sam, love. I wish I could’ve told you, but he swore me to secrecy… and I don’t want to lose my job just yet.”

“Don’t worry about it, I completely understand. It’s not your fault.” Y/N’s chuckle chimed through the air, much like the birdsongs that seemed to fill the space around them, and she paused, “I’ve done quite a bit of soul-searching recently, and I don’t think I truly loved him...the situation was all so new and exciting, that it made me believe I did. But now, I realize I didn’t.”

“I’m glad you found the light at the end of the tunnel, kid. But that’s life, Y/N. You win some and you lose some.”

“Thank you, Jeff. Really. For being so supportive,” Y/N said in gratitude, as Jeff flashed her a toothy smile.

“Ah, don’t mention it...actually, it’s funny I ran into you because I was actually going to call you, but I… may have lost your number.” A sheepish hand ran through the short hair at the nape of his neck, and Y/N giggles at the man’s hesitancy.

“That’s okay. Here, I’ll write it down for you,” Y/N grinned as she took out a spare piece of paper and a pen from her bag, “what did you need to call me for?”

Jeff watched Y/N’s hands as she scribbled down her number. Her handwriting was neat, soft spirals decorating the ends of her letters. Playful, yet full of grace. Just like her, Jeff thought. “There’s a May Ball at Queen’s College in Oxford on the 18th, and I was wondering if you’d like to come. It’s outdoors, and it should be a nice day.”

As Y/N handed Jeff the piece of paper, he continued. “More importantly, a good friend of mine is attending, and I thought you would like to meet him. You two are pretty similar, so I think you’ll hit it off really well.”

“Do you mean that this meeting is supposed to be a sort of… romantic proposition?” Y/N tilted her head in playful confusion.

Jeff smirked. “Not necessarily. He’s friends with the rest of the guys, so it’s only fair that you meet him, since we consider you a part of our inner circle.”

Y/N grinned at his statement, shaking her head, a chuckle tumbling past her lips. “Well, for the record, Jeff, I’m retired from dating for a while,” she admitted, “the whole thing with Paul shook me up a bit, and I need time to trust again, y’know?”

“Yeah, I understand. But my friend is a nice bloke, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry too much, or put up a front. If you’re uncomfortable, of course we can—”

Charlie came running up to Y/N’s cart and placed the bags of broccoli and potatoes inside. He then stood next to Y/N to see this stranger that she was talking to. Jeff noticed the little boy who suddenly appeared next to Y/N, and smiled warmly. Pointing to the boy, and changing his voice to be a bit gentler than usual, he asked, “Who’s this, Y/N?”

“This is my little brother Charlie,” Y/N said, softly putting her hand on her brother’s back, bringing him to the forefront. Charlie widely smiled at Jeff, baring his childish grin that was missing a couple teeth. Charlie couldn't wait until they grew in, because it would “finally make him look like a real man”, as he exclaimed so often at home.

Jeff crouched down to Charlie’s level and stuck out his hand to shake Charlie’s. “Nice to meet ya, mate. I’m Jeff, a friend of your sister’s.”

Charlie’s eyes widened as he recognized who this man was. “Jeff Beck?” Charlie asked hopefully, “as in the guitar god, Jeff Beck?”

Jeff chuckled as he looked up at Y/N. “Is this the shit you’ve been feeding him?” Y/N nodded and laughed.

“There’s an ounce of truth in that statement, isn't there, Beck?”

“Yes, I’m Jeff Beck, but I’m just the lead guitarist for The Yardbirds. The guitar god title goes to Hendrix, or Scotty Moore,” Jeff explained. What a humble change of pace for Jeff, Y/N thought.

Jeff stood back up and walked with Y/N and her brother throughout the store, pushing their carts in sync and grabbing food as they went. He asked her about what she was up to musically, and she talked about how she was polishing up some Debussy and Rachmaninoff pieces, as well as fiddling around with some old Fats Domino and Everly Brothers records. Charlie and Jeff bonded over their love of cars, which made Y/N very happy.

~~~~~~~~

18th June 1966

The day of the May Ball came. Y/N was excited for the show, but she didn’t want a sour encounter with Paul to ruin her good time. Jeff had called her earlier in the week to give her instructions on what to do upon arrival, and how to access the backstage area safely.

The backstage area was a white tent with the sides covered. Inside, there were multiple long tables of different distinguished people, such as Mama Cass and Graham Nash. Alcohol and little finger foods littered the tables, served in such abundance that it seemed no one was going to see tomorrow.

Y/N walked over to where she saw her friends, and upon spotting the girl, they all waved and said their cheerful hellos. Y/N walked over to sit with them, and ended up taking a seat between Chris and Jeff, crossing her legs and folding her hands in a sophisticated manner, always the lady she was taught to be. She chose her seat at the table very carefully, sitting very far away from Paul Samwell-Smith.

As everyone chatted away, she noticed there was a tall, thin young man with short, dark wavy hair who sat down in a seat between Jeff and Keith, delicately holding a flute of champagne. He was looped back into the conversation immediately, as if he had known the band his whole life. When Y/N saw him, her heart stopped.

This new boy was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He looked like an English James Dean; with the kind of attractiveness that anyone, male or female, completely swooned over with a single glance. This stranger could get anything he wanted at the drop of a hat, with his gorgeous looks and his graceful countenance. He had a sullen, mysterious edge to him, but he also looked gentle and sweet at the same time. He had eyes as green as a forest full of lush deciduous trees, flawlessly framed by dark, bushy eyebrows and accented by long, thick eyelashes. His nose was adorable, petite as it was, and his lips were full and pouty. His smile and laugh made Y/N melt on the inside, his perfectly straight teeth illuminating his porcelain face.

For a moment, Y/N thought she was in love. She was pulled back from her daydream quickly, though, because Jeff realized that now was the perfect opportunity to introduce his two friends.

“Y/N, this is my friend Jimmy, who I was telling you about,” Jeff said, getting Y/N’s attention. Y/N grinned as she refocused on the situation.

Jimmy turned towards Jeff when he heard his name, and that’s when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, sitting right next to Jeff. Lucky bastard.

His breath hitched in his throat upon sight of this girl. She was perfect; she looked like an actual angel. The way her hair, soft-looking and slightly wispy in the light summer wind, cascaded down her shoulders; her doe-eyes seemed to twinkle in the dimming light of day, pulling him in like the strongest of currents. Her  pillowy, supple lips encased a perfect smile, slightly crooked. It was, like the rest of her, completely endearing.

It was then, looking at this beautiful woman, (Y/N… Jeff had said her name, hadn't he?) that Jimmy remembers he was taken. His girlfriend, Jackie DeShannon, was waiting for him at home, but he only had eyes for the girl in front of him, and it would stay that way, it seemed.. He had to get to know her.

Jimmy snapped out of his hypnosis in the nick of time. He softly smiled at Y/N, a smile that made Y/N’s insides lurch, holding out his hand for her to shake as he turned on the charm. “Jimmy Page,” he initiated, his voice being softer and more calming than Y/N expected.

Y/N shyly smiled at him, a dark pink flush gracing her natural complexion, as she reached out to grasp his hand. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Jeff has told me about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Jimmy chuckled.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Y/N beamed, a feigned contemplative look on her face.

“How do you know Jeff?” Jimmy asked, turning his body towards her, now fully invested in getting to know Y/N.

“I met him...a year ago I wanna say? Is that right, Jeff? At a Yardbirds gig at the Marquee,” Y/N asked for clarification. The last thing she wanted to do is lie about Jeff to Jimmy, even if it was something as insignificant as this. In addition, she wanted to use Jeff as a temporary crutch in the conversation. Jimmy’s beauty was making her feel shyer than she already was; she felt as if she was curling into herself.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jeff intervened, “but she didn’t just meet me, she met the whole band.”

Jeff immediately noticed that the band was leaving the table to get ready to go on stage. Jimmy and Y/N didn’t even notice the table’s departure because they were so wrapped up in each other’s presence and words. Jimmy even moved a seat over to get closer to Y/N, although he said it was an attempt to “hear her better since the room was so loud of drunken buffoons”. Y/N had giggled at that, and it had sounded like music to the man’s ears. Jimmy was completely taken with her, as easy as it was to see.

“Wait, so how do you know Jeff?” Y/N asked curiously.

“I've known him since I was… gosh… thirteen or fourteen? We bonded over the guitar and blues. Indian music, too,” Jimmy grinned, taking a sip of his warming champagne.

“You play the guitar too?” Y/N gasped. Jimmy nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Oh jeez, I should’ve known! No wonder you’re tight with the Yardbirds,” she giggled.

Jimmy’s eyes twinkled at her now-flustered demeanor. “You’re okay, Y/N,” he chuckled, placing a hand gently on her forearm. Y/N felt her entire body break out into chills.

“I’m a session musician, actually,” he began, his hand lingering on the girl’s arm, for what seemed like a millennium to Y/N. “I’d hate to simplistically explain what a session musician is to someone like you if you already know what it is.” It sounded like he was holding back a bout of embarrassed laughter. “You must be quite intelligent, especially in matters of music, if Jeff has stuck by you for all this time.”

Y/N smiled bashfully. He’s so sensitive, she thought dreamily. “Yes, I know what a session musician is,” she giggled, “I’ve been a piano player all my life, so I know a thing or two about what you blokes are talking about when it comes to music.”

Jimmy’s heart began to thump a little faster as his smile widened. “Wow! That’s brilliant. Are you classically trained then?”

“Yes, but I do know quite a bit of blues numbers.”

“Oh, so you really know what you’re talking about! I have to admit, although I am a session musician, I’m not particularly good at reading music. Maybe you could teach me a few things about sight reading and we can jam some time?”

Y/N blushed as her lips pursed together in a grin. “I would love that. We’d have so much fun!” The way that Y/N’s full lips twisted together in a smile looked so damn kissable to Jimmy.

“My girlfriend was actually supposed to teach me music theory, but we never got around to it, unfortunately,” Jimmy continued.

“Ah, okay. Well, if you give me a time, date, and place, we can definitely make it work,” Y/N beamed.

“Wonderful!” An awkward, pregnant pause filled the space, and Y/N cleared her throat, unconsciously sliding closer to Jimmy. There was almost a magnetic pull to him, and Y/N was caught up in it.

“So, what’s it like being a session musician? I’m sure you get asked that all the time,” Y/N laughed.

Jimmy smiled. “It’s quite grueling, brutal at times, but I find it fulfilling. One mistake, and you’re fired, so it’s a lot of pressure.”

“Oh wow! That must be horrible to deal with.”

“Yeah, sometimes the pressure can really settle into you, but for me it dissipates once I’m in the booth. There’s three sessions a day, five days a week, so I don’t have much time for leisure. It’s been getting really dry lately since all I’m playing is rhythm guitar. I love experimentation and stretching out on lead guitar, so constant rhythm is getting quite annoying.”

“I understand where you’re coming from then, from a creative standpoint. How long have you been a session player?”

“Four years, roughly.”

“You must be quite dedicated then!” Y/N exclaimed, “who have you played with?”

“Oh gosh,” Jimmy exhaled deeply, calloused fingers raising to land on his chin. Slight stubble shadows it, and the sharp scent of aftershave wafted towards the girl. Lost in the scent, Y/N nearly missed his reply. “The Rolling Stones, The Kinks, Donovan, The Who, Petula Clark, Jackie DeShannon, Carter Lewis and the Southerners, Neil Christian and the Crusaders, Herman’s Hermits, Marianne Faithfull… just to name a few.”

“Wow! What a resumé!” she gushed, “That’s incredible. You should be so proud, Jimmy.”

“Thank you very much, love, I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, an announcer’s booming voice cut through Jimmy and Y/N’s conversation as he introduced the Yardbirds to the stage. As the five men walked on, Jimmy stood up from his chair.

“Come with me to the wings so we can see and hear them better,” he smiled, holding out his arm for Y/N to take. Y/N agreed, standing up and linking her arm with Jimmy’s as they walked in sync to the side of the stage.

The first few numbers were played perfectly, and it was clear that the audience (and even the road crew) were enchanted by the spectacle. Y/N knew from past shows that the next song would be “Train Kept A-Rollin’,” and she knew that they always knocked that one out of the park. It was always stimulating and explosive.

Jeff and Chris began the opening riff, the low E, G, and A notes thundering out of the monitors melodically. Just as Keith sang “got a train” on his cue, he fell straight backward and hit his head off Jim’s bass drum. Jimmy and Y/N’s jaws dropped in shock as a loud gasp echoed through the air from the audience. The music abruptly stopped as the rest of the band crowded around Keith’s fallen figure to see if he was alright. Murmurings of “fucking hells” were all that were spoken from the road crew as they tried to redeem the concert.

“He was drunk,” Jimmy whispered to Y/N giddily, “he was completely out to lunch and wobbling as he walked onstage.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Y/N replied quietly with a grin, “that definitely explains all the empty bottles and glasses on the table.”

Momentarily, Keith got back up and motioned for the band to restart “Train Kept A-Rollin’” and they finished the song without another mishap. The rest of the set was completed smoothly, and everything sounded sonically incredible. Jimmy and Y/N stood close together the entire time, Jimmy sneaking glances at Y/N from time to time. He lost his breath with the way her eyes were almost aglow in the fading light, and her soft-looking lips parted in childlike wonder as she watched the live music.

The Yardbirds came off the stage, begrudgingly making their way into the backstage tent, where Jimmy and Y/N had situated themselves. No one looked happy, especially Paul. Jeff had his usual stoic look, but he was rushing around for any alcoholic beverage he could find to ease his nerves after what could have been the worst possible scenario.

Everyone took a seat at the table where they were before the show. Jimmy and Y/N sat next to each other as they took in the distressed expressions of the five other men. Jeff was slumped in his chair, next to Jimmy, taking swigs of a beer he’d found. Jim and Chris just stared at the ground, drink in hand. Paul just looked royally pissed off, to the point that it almost scared Y/N. Keith, however, was still totally out of it in his drunken stupor.

“Hey, Jim,” Jeff said quietly to Jimmy, “look, you know, I’m really sorry about the gig. I’m sure you aren’t interested in joining the band now…”

“Oh no,” Jimmy chuckled, “that was amazing! Absolutely brilliant! I loved it.”

Y/N’s interest piqued as she heard their whispers of new information. “Wait! Jimmy’s joining the band? I thought there were only supposed to be five live Yardbirds,” she whispered.

Jeff leaned over Jimmy to whisper back to Y/N. “Oh yeah! I can’t believe I didn’t tell you this already. Paul is probably going to leave the group...and I think it might be sooner than we thought, especially after the whole Keith fiasco...Jimmy is going to take his place on bass, and hopefully he’ll take on dual lead guitar at some point. Then Chris will do bass,” Jeff’s eyes diverted to Paul, who was sitting with his arms crossed and face angry, staring off into space. Jimmy and Y/N followed Jeff’s line of sight mischievously.

“Oooh! Great plan,” Y/N smiled.

A little smirk creeped across Jeff’s face as he quietly counted down, “3...2...1…”

At the very prompt “1,” Paul abruptly stood up from his chair very loudly, capturing everyone’s attention.

“You know what? I’m done,” Paul exclaimed, stepping away from the chair as he pushed it in under the table.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Jim began, standing up from his own chair, “what do you mean ‘you’re done’? What the hell does that mean?”

Paul sneered at Jim. “What do you think I mean? I mean I’m done with this bullshit. I’ve had enough of the horrid travelling, not being noticed, and this drunk-off-his-ass bastard,” he exclaimed angrily, pointing at Keith.

“You need to relax, Sam,” Chris said gently, “look at everything we’ve accomplished over the last three years. You want to give that up? You’re losing your shit over one bad performance.”

“It’s been on my mind for a long time now, Chris. I fucking hate it,” Paul continued, anxiously running his hands through his hair, “and you know what? Y/N hanging around all the time has made it worse. She’s just here to be our fucking groupie. She’s only eating off our clout to be friends with famous people.” The entire table went silent, looking around nervously.

Y/N’s eyes widened at Paul’s awful accusation. “Are you serious?” she shot back coldly, “I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“Oh what, you think I don’t recognize that that’s your motive?” Paul said condescendingly.

“If you think that being absolutely obsessed with you all is my sole hobby, my motive, whatever that means... you are sadly mistaken,” Y/N responded, her eyes closing to slits and her lips pressed together in disgust.

“You’re probably sleeping with Jim or Chris now for all I know!” he shouted, arms flailing in the air.

Y/N was fuming now, standing up from her own chair facing Paul. “How dare you make me seem like I’m a whore for the Yardbirds! Even if I was sleeping with Jim or Chris, that would be none of your business because you pursued me when you were fucking married, you dipshit.”

Paul’s maddening countenance grew. “You’re just an insecure little girl who needs famous musicians around her to validate her and make feel better about herself. You’re a fucking nuisance, like a gnat that just won’t fly away even when you swat at it again and again.”

Y/N gasped, the sound drowned out by the screech of metal against tile, as Jimmy stood up from his chair. He was distraught, upset at the antics between the two bitter exes, and stepped in front of Y/N to protect her from the horrible verbal blows served by Paul Samwell-Smith. Jeff beat him by a second, as he started to berate Sam for his little episode.

“You listen up, you wanker,” Jeff started, wagging his index finger in front of Sam’s face, “you’re just being a butthurt little bitch because Y/N found out that you were married. If anyone’s the whore here, it’s you. Y/N is our friend, even Jimmy’s now, and she takes care of us and makes us happy. She’s not just some whimsy, disposable groupie like the way you used her; she’s an intelligent, sweet, pretty girl who has our best interest at heart. And we have hers. You have to be a fucking idiot not to see that.”

Paul was taken aback. “I write, produce, and play bass for this group. All you do is play lead guitar. Trust me, Beck, I’m not the idiot here.”

“Well, your goddamn head isn’t screwed on straight, then,” Jimmy added, “I’ll be taking your place, thank you very much. And you will never mistreat Y/N on my watch. Ever. I’ve known her for about an hour, and she’s already absolutely magnificent.”

Y/N’s throat felt clenched, but some of the tension was relieved when she realized how protective Jimmy was being over her. As mad as she was, butterflies filled her stomach at his warm ways.

“I’m out of here! You all suck anyway. Have a nice trip to hell, all of you,” Paul said as he walked away to the road crew to get his belongings, flipping the people at the table off.

Y/N sat back down in her chair once Paul was out of sight, slouching and holding her cheeks with her hands as she blankly stared at the edge of the table. Jimmy and the four Yardbirds dragged their chairs closer to a saddened Y/N, who was determined to fight off the tears that threatened to roll down her fury-flush cheeks.

Jeff frowned at the state of his friend, starting to softly rub her cardigan-clothed back to console her. “I’m so sorry about Sam, Y/N. His behaviour was absolutely horrendous, and I can assure you, none of the things he said about you were even close to being true.”

Keith, still a bit drunk, stood up and walked over to Y/N, planting a peck on her cheek. “We’re so glad you’re here, dear. Truly. That belligerent little asshole can suck a fat one.”

A close-lipped smile found its way on Y/N’s lips. “Thanks Keith,” she chuckled.

“I’m going to go get you a cup of water, alright love?” Chris said as he stood up to walk over towards the bar.

“Thank you so much Chris,” she called after him. Chris flashed her a kind smile as he walked away.

I guess Mum and Dad were wrong...they really do care about me, Y/N thought happily, they really, truly do.

~~~~~~~~

After the May Ball was over, and the sky was growing darker with the coming evening, Jimmy and Y/N walked around the grounds of the venue together, talking about anything and everything and sharing laughs.

The lighthearted mood took a drastic shift at one of Jimmy’s followup questions.

“So, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what was the whole row between you and Sam about?”

Y/N flashed a sad smile, but it quickly faded as she took a deep exhale. “Well—”

Panicked, Jimmy took this as a cue that she didn’t want to talk about it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I get it because of how heated it was. I’m just worried about you, is all,” he interrupted.

“No, it’s okay. Really. I trust you,” she replied with a pursed lip-smile. Jimmy returned the sentiment, internally relieved that Y/N had already seemed to take a liking to him.

“Alright, so about a year or so ago, I went to a Yardbirds gig at the Crawdaddy Club, a few months after I met the band for the first time. Paul asked me out after that show, and nobody told me he was married, so naturally, I accepted.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, love. What a shitty thing to do, especially to someone as wonderful as you,” Jimmy replied with a little flush, giving the girl a little rub on the small of her back.

Heat rippled throughout Y/N’s body at his touch. Regaining her composure, she sighed. “Thank you Jimmy. That means a lot. More than you know, actually.”

After a short silence, Y/N continued. “We went out for about eight months...and in retrospect, it now makes sense why I could never go over to his place. But anyway, I found out about it before the band played on Ready, Steady, Go in February. Keith, Jeff, Jim, and I were all talking at the front of the stage before rehearsals and it slipped.”

“Who ended up telling you?”

“Jim, but it was purely an accident.” Suddenly, all of the events that had happened between her and Jim guiltily flooded her mind. Now with Jimmy beginning to infiltrate her mind and cloud her vision, how was she supposed to genuinely enjoy the secrecy? Ah shit, she thought, here we go again.

“After the show, I confronted him about it,” Y/N continued, “and he was blaming me for our time together, a-and for ‘tempting’ him into asking me out just by being… me?”

“He seems like a right wanker, I can tell you that for sure,” Jimmy muttered, sliding his hand from its resting place on her back, to her shoulder, squeezing it lightly in solidarity. Y/N met his eyes then, tears filling her gaze, and Jimmy frowns. No one as lovely as her should be feeling this way. He smiles at her, and to Y/N, it is filled with comfort and appreciation. Some emotion… something akin to love, perhaps, lit a fire in her chest, and she looks away. The evening ambience does nothing to hide the traitorous blush that painted her cheeks.

“It’s getting quite dark out, love. How did you get here?” Jimmy asked, stealing another glance at a girl as she looked down at her ballet flats once more.

“I took the train, actually,” Y/N replied.

“Oh, so did I! Here, I’ll walk with you over to the station then.”

Y/N grinned at him. “That’s so kind of you, Jimmy. Thank you.”

“No problem, love. What’s your stop?” Jimmy asked as they began to make their way over to the station.

“St. Alban’s. How about you?”

“Epsom. I still live with my parents, I’m afraid,” he chuckled sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s okay!” she laughed with him, “so do I. It’s nice though, to still live with your parents… home-cooked meals and laundry and all. Plus sleeping in your own bed, and using your own bathroom, of course.”

“Those are very good points,” Jimmy agreed with a chuckle.

The two boarded the train once they got to the station, only waiting on the platform for a few minutes. They continued to talk all the way to St. Albans, where Y/N got off to walk home.

“Say you’ll see me again sometime soon, Y/N,” Jimmy half-asked, half-declared as she stood up to get off the train.

Y/N grinned at him. “I definitely will, Jimmy. It was so nice meeting you tonight...I loved getting to know you.”

“The feeling is mutual, love. Please stay safe and take care of yourself, okay?” he reached out his hand to grab Y/N’s, shaking it a little and smiling at her. Y/N nearly swooned at the gesture.

“I’ll try my best. You do the same as well. Have a good night!”

“Thank you, you too!” Jimmy waved as Y/N walked out the train’s doors. Her scent, a delicious mixture of vanilla with a hint of laundry detergent, lingered in the air as she passed by, weakening him both physically and his rational judgment.

He had a lot of thinking to do on the ride home.

————

Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby

[levihantrash]

new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

[not-wholly-unheroic]

On the Origins of Hook: The Complicated and Often Contradictory Backstory of a Villain

The story of Peter Pan has been told and retold in writing, on the stage, and on the big screen countless times, yet in the original storyline, we are thrust into a world with a pre-established (and presumably long-standing) relationship between its hero and villain with little information regarding their pasts. So far as the audience is concerned, Peter and Hook have always been a part of the Neverland...yet as evidenced by the many retellings that attempt to answer the question of these characters’ origins, clearly, people want to know more. Barrie, however, leaves a great deal to the imagination and while he tackles a bit of Peter’s past in The Little White Bird, there is significantly less information about Hook in his writings, and much of it is up for debate, as Barrie arguably contradicts himself. 

In terms of canon (which for the purposes of this article I am limiting to Barrie’s final published version of the novel), much of what we know about Hook can only be inferred from a few brief passages. In the initial introduction of the pirates, Barrie gives us the following description of Hook:

In the midst of them, the blackest and largest in that dark setting, reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas. Hook, of whom it is said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared. He lay at his ease in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by his men, and instead of a right hand he had the iron hook with which ever and anon he encouraged them to increase their pace. As dogs this terrible man treated and addressed them, and as dogs they obeyed him. In person he was cadaverous and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance. His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In manner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told that he was a raconteur [storyteller] of repute. He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew. A man of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he shied at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of an unusual colour. In dress he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles II, having heard it said in some earlier period of his career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts; and in his mouth he had a holder of his own contrivance which enabled him to smoke two cigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him was his iron claw.

From this, we may be able to draw a few conclusions about who Hook was before he came to the island. (1) He was likely a sailor, if not a pirate, BEFORE he met Peter, given that he had previous interactions with “The Sea Cook”--that is, Long John Silver. (2) He was alive and most likely an adult by the mid 1700s, as in Treasure Island, Billy Bones--a former crewmate of Silver’s--has the date 1745 in his log and the dates 1750 and 1754 on his treasure maps. (3) Hook’s hairstyle and fashion is similar to that of Charles II, whose reign ended with his death in 1685. 

We are also informed by John that Hook was supposed to have been Blackbeard’s bosun. Blackbeard was born somewhere around 1680 and may have been a privateer earlier in his career at sea, but he didn’t actually take up piracy until 1716 and had only a very brief reign of terror before he was killed off the coast of North Carolina in 1718. Assuming Hook was meant to be Blackbeard’s bosun after he went pirate, this gives us a pretty narrow window of time during which Hook might have interacted with him. And, if we take the comment about the Sea Cook seriously, then Hook must have been pretty young at the time he worked for Blackbeard, given that there is a twenty-seven year gap between Blackbeard’s death and the earliest date Billy Bones offers in connection with Silver. 

Hook also uses words and phrases such as, “Pan, who and what art thou?” which would seem to indicate that he is from a time period centuries before the Darlings come to visit. (“Thee” and “thou” had pretty much completely fallen out of common use in English by the late 1700s/early 1800s.)

So far, so good. The dates might make it a bit of a stretch, but we can pretty comfortably say that prior to Neverland, Hook was a sailor--and probably a pirate--during the 1700s, was likely born in the late 1600s, and was possibly a related to Charles II, who had many illegitimate children. This possibility fits nicely with Barrie’s statement that, “Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he really was would even at this date set the country in a blaze.”

We don’t know much about his parentage, however, except that Hook’s voice cracks when he is speaking to Smee about mothers regarding the neverbird’s refusal to leave her eggs even after the nest falls into the water. Whether this is because he was close to his own mother and is lamenting her loss or he had a rather indifferent (or even cruel) mother and he is lamenting his own lack of a loving childhood is up for debate, though the official sequel, Peter Pan in Scarlet--written in 2006 by Geraldine McCaughrean--favors the second interpretation. (Again, however, for the purposes of this article, I am only considering Barrie’s published novel as canon.)

We also learn that Hook attended Eton, a rather prestigious school for boys between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. Assuming Hook completed his schooling there and was, therefore, at least eighteen by the time he joined up with Blackbeard, it would place his being born somewhere close to 1700. Assuming his interaction with Long John Silver was, at the earliest, probably around 1745, and that this interaction happened prior to his visiting the Neverland, it puts Hook (physically) at approximately age 45 by the time we meet him in the book, give or take a bit.

There are two potential problems with that timeline, however. (1) In Barrie’s original novel, only Peter stays young forever. The boys can technically grow up, and Peter “thins them out” when they do. (Decide for yourself whether that means banishment or something worse.) If this is the case, Hook shouldn’t still be alive or, even if the aging process is slowed down, at the very least, he should be an old man, given that the Darlings visit in the early 1900s...making him at least two hundred years old. (2) Near the end of the book, when Hook is trying to convince the boys to join his pirate crew and John asks innocently whether they would still be loyal subjects of the king, Hook responds with, “You would have to swear, ‘Down with King George!’” John (and likely the audience) assumes here that Hook is talking about King George V, who would have been the present king of England at the time the novel was published. If this is the case, how does Hook know who the king is? Has he been able to leave the island and find out this information? Or is Hook, perhaps, from a more modern era than we suspect? Cleverly, Barrie leaves this question open-ended, as Hook could just as easily have been referring to King George the First, who ruled England from 1714 until 1727. 

As for personal hobbies, we know only that he loves flowers and plays the harpsichord--an instrument that was once quite popular but which had fallen out of favor by the 1800s, replaced by the piano. 

The rest of the information we get from Barrie about Hook’s origins comes primarily from his “Hook at Eton” speech, delivered in 1927--many years after his original play (1904) and novel (1911). And here’s where things get interesting (read: contradictory). Because he wrote the speech so many years later,  as a sort of afterthought, and because of the inconsistences with the novel, I personally reject this information as canon. Nevertheless, it is Barrie’s take on his own character and, therefore, is worth at least considering.

In this work, we are told that Hook not only attended Eton but also--at least briefly--went to Oxford. This in and of itself poses no major problems for the timeline suggested by the novel.  What DOES pose a problem, however, is the fact that Barrie claims to have been in contact with Hook’s “Aunt Emily”--apparently his closest surviving relative--and has been in search of possible photographs of Hook during his time there. This would indicate that Hook MUST be from a much later, more modern era than the book suggests, as photography didn’t really come into fashion until the mid-1800s, and even if “Aunt Emily” is quite old (and she is likely a good fifteen to twenty years OLDER than Hook if we assume she is near in age to one of his parents) at the time of Barrie’s supposed meeting with her, she couldn’t have reasonably been expected to have been born before the early 1800s, placing Hook’s own birth nearer to the 1850s. While some of the information in the novel might be explained away to fit with this date (his choice of dress and hairstyle, for instance), he could not possibly have interacted with Blackbeard or Long John Silver. In fact, he could not have been a pirate--at least, not in the traditional sense--at all, as the Golden Age of Piracy (1650s--1730s) had long passed and the Age of Sail ended in the 1860s. Because of this inconsistency, some have argued that Barrie may have intended Hook to be a more modern man who essentially became trapped in a child’s fantasy land. He became a “pirate” only AFTER his interactions with Pan--that is, he took on the role of a villain because that is how Peter and the children imagined him--and that John’s assertions about his interactions with Blackbeard and Silver are merely rumors that the boy has heard.

Setting aside this apparent contradiction in the timeline, we DO learn some other interesting facts about Hook. For instance, Hook’s blood (which was said in the novel to be thick and strangely colored), is specified as having been yellow. This, along with his appearance having been described in the novel  as “cadaverous” has lead some to conclude that Hook was likely rather sickly as a child. We also learn that Hook enjoyed the Lake poets and strawberry mess (a dessert),  collected keys, performed well in sports while at Eton (though he did not like water sports as he rather surprisingly hated the feeling of water on his skin), and played the flute. We also learn that he was politically conservative and was probably never in a romantic relationship. 

There are a few other bits of information about Barrie’s idea of Hook that can be found in the early manuscripts for the play, which feature “deleted scenes.” One such manuscript--the earliest, I believe--can be found here. (Though good luck with reading it without going cross-eyed because Barrie’s handwriting is BAD.) However, I think this post has gone on long enough, yet we are still left with many unanswered questions. But perhaps this is what Barrie intended all along. Perhaps, fittingly, we are ultimately left to fill in the blanks about this villain of the Neverland with our own imagination. 

_____

Thanks to @katherinenotgreat for asking me to do a post on Hook’s origins. Thanks also to @concordia-cum-sinistro for your input. Feel free to add your own information regarding the original manuscript drafts, as I know you are more familiar with them than I am.

[seyaryminamoto]

What's your top 10 favorite benders who you most enjoy writing in gladiator? Actually make that top 11 since we all know you'll put Azula in 1st place.

Hahaha xD how predictable am I...?

Admittedly, this is a tricky question because I suppose you meant in combat? But while I have written my fair share of combat, my favorite moments of characters aren't always during fighting scenes xD anyway, let's see what I can narrow down here...

Azula: because you're right and she's just the most fun to write and I love her to pieces no matter what she's up to :> the top spot could never be in question xD

Xin Long: BAHAHAHA! Bet you didn't see that one coming! x'D Okay, now, but he counts too! Dragons are firebenders and Xin Long in particular is a reeeeally fun troublemaker. Definitely love writing his teamwork with Azula, always have <3 they steal the top 2, fair and square! I guess the actual top ten beyond these two is what you were wondering about, though xD top twelve it is.

Ozai: ironically, I don't write him in combat often, but he is a bender and I just... have more fun than I should when I'm writing this bastard. I currently am in a tough spot with him, admittedly I am a loooot more antagonistic to Ozai lately than I usually am... but every scene with this guy is still charged as heck and something I look forward to, for better or for worse.

Toph: when on her downtime, Toph is generally really fun to write. During battles, Toph is really inventive and clever with her bending, an instinctive fighter with whom I can definitely improvise a lot, because she's that deeply connected to her element and everything she can do with it. Yet my favorite, absolute FAVORITE things to write with Toph are the big moments where she comes into conflict with her simplistic take on life, her easy-going, straightforward ideologies and mentality. Her struggles with victory and defeat, the extremes to which she realized she could go (and to which she outright went), and how much she regretted going that far really made her character a thousand times more malleable and dynamic to write for me. She'll be in for further development in the future, when new surprises shake her up and make her question so much of what she's taken for granted throughout the story so far, and she'll still be every bit as epic a bender through all her upcoming hardships.

Rui Shi: oh, my man *sobs* he will have a very solid combat scene in our next arc, probably the first one he really gets, and the first one where he shows just how strong he is, as well as how ruthless he can be if the situation calls for it. He is eeeepic. Beyond his bending skills, his dynamics with his fellow guards, as well as with Azula, Sokka and Song, make him such a highlight in the story for me <3 he might even deserve a higher spot in the list, honestly xD

The Notorious Stingray: does it look ridiculous that he'd be so far up this list? xD I know it may seem that way to some of you atm, but... he's basically the most ridiculous waterbender I've ever written, powerful and capable of controlling and harnessing the natural OP-ness of waterbending like few people can. He is indeed notorious for me, I fear that after what I've done with him it may be difficult to make other waterbenders look half as epic as he does xD

Aang: ... even so, I admit, I have grown to very much enjoy writing the Avatar in recent times :'D haha. That is just the way it is. No spoilers here, but Aang's obvious advantages over other benders due to being the Avatar also make him considerably inventive and capable of things that many others can't really do (even if he's not as much of a specialized bender as most the people in this list are, he's a jack-of-all-trades bender, basically). There's some future plans I have in mind for Aang's character, and I really look forward to writing them all (already got started with some of it and it has been a little more fun than it should be x'D)

Katara: can anyone actually believe this?! I bet not xD but Katara has become another surprisingly fun character for me to write recently, both for bending and character-related reasons. I think my expectations for her character didn't really give her enough credit. So I can safely say she earned this spot xD

Renkai: ... Hehe. Haha. Oops. I mean... you did ask. I am just answering (?) If anyone would wonder why, of all people, Renkai...?! Well, gee. Hehe. Haha. Oops!

Zuko: surprise again! Me and my streak of picking his character apart are very contradictory with this statement, aren't we? :'D but truth be told, Zuko's become a much more interesting character for me lately (Gladiator-exclusively, I must say...), as I'm also recently pushing him into self-reflection in a potentially unexpected way. Both him and Katara looked a loooot worse in the outline than they do in the real thing, and they've become much more interesting to write than I ever expected they'd be. Zuko's also gained some firebending power-ups, hard-earned through his long stay in the Water Tribe, and that self-reflection may just strengthen him further... so he may just become a very fun bender to write, regardless of all my personal clashes with this boy xD

Zhao: I most certainly never expected this guy to grow on me in any possible sense of the words, but my determination not to make him that boring a character definitely saw him evolving beyond all my expectations. It's not so much that I enjoy his bending, much like in Ozai's case... but his role in the story, his potential, all of it make him an interesting character to write about, even if I'm just as likely to butt heads with him as I am with Ozai lately. Still, objectively speaking, he's evolved into one very interesting writing subject.

Renzhi: the Millennium Dragon has definitely been a fun guy to write about too. He's definitely helped me explore some of the boundaries and potential of firebending, his stamina and the strength of his condensed fire have redefined defensive firebending for me. Doesn't hurt at all that he's a really fun character, all around, too nice for his own good, too. If I were a common nobody within the Gladiator world, I suspect I'd be a member of his gladiator fanclub x'D

There's others that might have a few merits that warrant being part of this list... but for now, a top 12 it is, as that's already a little beyond what you requested, anon xD

[bubbebruja]

On the Death of Sirius Black and Literary Gay Bashing in Harry Potter

In 2003, I was ten, straight, and positively obsessed with Hermione Granger.

If those last two things sound a little contradictory, it’s because they were. I do not mean I was “obsessed” in the sense that I wanted to dress up like her for Halloween, I mean “obsessed” in the sense that I literally blushed anytime my mom read her name aloud to my sister and I.

Queer. I was queer. I just didn’t know it yet.

Thus, I didn’t notice the Sirius/Remus romantic subtext as a child, drinking hot chocolate propped against my sister’s knees and listening enraptured as my mom read to us from the most recently released Harry Potter book. When Order of the Phoenix came out, I was far more interested in Angsty Harry™ and the evils of Delores Umbridge, and when Sirius died, I was not even all that upset. I didn’t really like him all that much, knew even at that age that he embodied too many of the stereotypically “masculine” traits I had already grown to hate with his pride and brooding and emotional immaturity. I didn’t much care, much less recognize that JK Rowling had done something rather unforgiveable.

But others did.

Seventeen years later, I get it.

By 2003, many older, wiser readers had long since clocked the queer subtext between Sirius and Remus. And, when I picked up the books earlier this year to re-read them for the first time since they were read to me as a child, I saw it too. (Notably, this was prior to JKR’s most recent round of blazing transphobia, after which I stopped reading.) And, okay, yes, I am the type of queer who reads queerness into many things. But y’all, I really didn’t have to try all that hard this time. If I were reading these books for the first time in the context of 2020, I would assume Remus and Sirius were canonically a couple, and JKR just wasn’t bashing us over the head with clear evidence of it. She doesn’t do that most of the time anyway. By Order of the Phoenix, in my opinion, the evidence (as movie Dumbledore says so awkwardly) is incontrovertible. The living together? The joint Christmas present? The “Sirius, sit down” scene early in the book? The confirmed HIV/AIDS metaphor, IN THE 90S?? THEY’RE FUCKING GAY TOGETHER.

And here’s the thing, (and I have no proof of this, so you’re just going to have to roll with it): I think it’s pretty clear that JKR became more conservative as time progressed. Money tends to do that to people, conveniently. What started as a series about the power young people hold to defeat evil and fight injustice eventually devolved into a flaccid epilogue where heterosexual nuclear families abounded and there were (still) no visibly queer characters in sight.

By the time the final book came out, I was a full-fledged teenager, and I, too, had abandoned fantasies of fighting evil and injustice for fantasies of settling down with “my perfect man” (L. O. L.) So, I get it. I get that priorities change for young people. But for adults, especially those recently drunk on the power of infinite amounts of money and fame? Nah. JKR knew what she was doing. JKR laid all the groundwork for a possible relationship between Remus and Sirius and then changed her mind. Or was told to change her mind. Or was forced to change her mind.

I have A Lot Of Feelings™ about Tonks and Remus’s relationship (most of which are about the way their canonical relationship plays into a lot of really awful tropes about disabled people which, no matter how you read him, Remus is). And I have a lot of feelings about Sirius Black as a character. I have a lot of feelings about Dumbledore, some related to his posthumous outing and some not. And, like most of us now, I have a lot of feelings about the entire franchise as a whole. But here’s what I know: It doesn’t actually matter, because JKR didn’t just change the explicit relationship dynamics between Sirius and Remus, she quite literally killed any chances of queer romance.

And she didn’t just kill Sirius. She killed Remus, too. And Tonks (who is a genderqueer butch and I will die on that hill). And Dumbledore. And the cute, squeaky house elf with a love for clothes and an obsession with Harry. And the young Gryffindor boy who followed Harry around, constantly asking for photos and autographs. And – you know what? Fuck it. – the person who lived INSIDE ANOTHER MAN’S BODY before returning to his bodily form, during which time he relied heavily on his male servant who cut off a literal body part to restore his master.

Am I reading too much queer subtext into each of these characters? Maybe. But, as this lovely article states, “close reading is queer culture, always has been.” And I can’t help but notice that the vast majority of the characters JKR didn’t kill off are, well, pretty fucking straight. (Drarry shippers, feel free to come at me. I’m sure there’s plenty of queer subtext there, too). They’re, for the most part, characters with a clear canonical history of heterosexual romance, as if only those with a possible future of a heterosexual, nuclear family are worthy of survival.

And I just don’t think this was an accident. I think it was the intentional plan of someone who started to feel like the world of inclusion she’d created was being read as far too inclusive.

To call this “literary gay bashing” is a pretty serious accusation with a pretty serious use of a very loaded term. But the thing is, I think we too often let people like JKR off the hook without recognizing what her words – both literary and non-literary – have done and can do. We too often dismiss it with statements like, “she’s entitled to her opinion”. Gay bashing is the intentional abuse or assault of someone perceived to be a member of the LGBTQIA2+ community, physically or verbally, that often results in lasting harm or death. And I use this term to describe JKR’s work particularly because it is sensationalizing, because it calls violence what it is: violence. Because, sure, she’s as entitled to her opinion as anyone else. But the second you create a world where anyone, especially children, are going to see themselves, going to feel safe, your “opinion” better do as little violence as possible.

When I saw the first Harry Potter movie, back in 2001, I refused to discuss it for months. I was furious. At the time, I couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but I now realize that I was heartbroken that Hermione Granger didn’t look like me. When JKR described a girl with wild, brown curly hair, I saw me. I saw my hair. And so, as children tend to do, I saw the rest of me, too. I saw tanned skin and dark brown eyes and full lips and high cheekbones (the ones people always told me made me look “Indian”, which I only partially am). I saw the quiet confidence that develops when you’re the brownest kid in your school, ready to strike but only when provoked. The pale, arrogant, racially unambiguous Hermione Granger I saw on the screen made me feel dirty, cast off, unworthy of representation. The self-hatred I felt when White Hermione Granger entered the film alongside White Harry Potter and White Ron Weasley and White Everyone Else was a kind of violence.

And when JKR killed off all of her queer-read characters, she took that violence to another level. Because they were there, we saw them, we did not imagine the romantic undertones between Remus and Sirius, or the way that a shape-shifting young woman with short, spiky hair reads an awful lot like a person uninterested in traditional gender. We saw ourselves in the most beloved franchise of all time. And then, she took away those possibilities, and she took away those characters.

And you know what? People die because they can’t see themselves in media. People die because that’s what they’ve watched everyone like them do on screen and in books. It’s not harmless, and it’s not victimless, and it’s violent.

There’s only one solution to literary gay bashing: To Bash Back. We can and do write ourselves into the stories, into the world, and refuse to settle for explanations that gaslight us into thinking we imagined things that were never there, or ask us to settle for tiny crumbs of useless representation.

I intended to finish my most recent story, “Come Healing”, with an ambiguous ending that left the possibility of Sirius’s death open to reader interpretation. But then, JKR kept going, and talking, and kept creating violence, and I got mad. And so, like so many queers before me, I rewrote the story and changed the ending, and created love and security and peace and life where the canonical author had created hopelessness and death. And in the world we live in right now, that is radical. It is bashing back.

It’s tiny, but it’s something. Every time we write a happy ending for a queer character, we create the possibilities of happy endings for queer people everywhere. And no one – no matter how hard she may try – can take that away.

[heritageofazerbaijan]

Painting of Azerbaijan: "Tears of Kapaz" by Sattar Bahlulzade

Sattar Bahlulzade (1909-1974) was an Azerbaijani painter.

Article: Historically, artists become famous either for their unique style or the character they exude to the world of art.

Sattar Bahlulzade a living legend, a painter, who in the literal sense of the word is the face of the Azerbaijani lyrical landscape, and, importantly, unique in his soulful qualities was an artist the importance of whom for the national art is difficult to underestimate.

Love of drawing appeared in artist’s early childhood. After his father gave him colored pencils, the boy drew everything that surrounded him. He was surrounded by various beauties - bright holidays, nature of Absheron, household items decorated by folk craftsmen. In one of his diaries the artist wrote:

“Everything was in the right place in the house. She (the mother) located the items like an artist. Blankets and bedspreads folded so that the color gamut coincided. For her, it was a work of art, it was a beauty.”

Bahlulzade is an artist, famous for his strangeness. He had a habit of suddenly leaving home and sometimes being absent for months. He did not sell his work, he gave them disinterestedly, although he was not a rich man.

The artist was in love with nature, considered himself a part of it. Actually, most of his life passed in the bosom of nature in order to be closer to it, to understand it deeper, adequately perceive and depict it on canvas. He could better express and realize himself as an artist in unity with nature. This is clearly seen in many famous paintings of the master.

“Many people think that when I want to, I take a blank canvas in a frame, a palette of colors and without any difficulty I depict various moments in the life of nature. This is a misconception. I originally had such a habit: I did sketches in advance to some of my works, and in some cases I remembered what I saw. For example, over the paysage "Tears of Kapaz" I was painting what I remembered, I did not make a sketch in advance of it. Actually, at that moment I had no such opportunity,” the artist admitted.

Bahlulzade was a thinker, he always avoided trifles and focused on the transfer of the deep essence, character, poetry of the landscape. Because of this, his works are saturated with colors, energy emotionally and musically, are full of completely unexpected turns and magic.

Working on the canvas, however, was given to Bahlulzade by no means easy, he spent a lot of time and effort to catch the right moment and to convey the unbridled power of nature and its unique charm as colorful as possible.

About this emotionality, philosophical and aesthetic elements in the works of Bahlulzade much is said and written. Some assume that these qualities in his work are the result of the influence of the medieval art of Tabriz miniature, others think that this is the result of the influence of impressionism.

It is noteworthy that musicality is the very essence of creativity of the artist. When you look at his paintings, it's difficult to get rid of the feeling that this is a kind of symphony written not with notes, but with colors. On artist’s paintings, colors radiate light and a melody, they seem to sing.

It is necessary to dwell on Bahlulzade’s colors that he used in his paintings, about which so much was said. Like many specific features of this artist's work, the colors on his paintings are also unusual and incomparable, his palette is unique. The impression is that he created these colors himself and only he works with them.

Bahlulzade, however, himself did not agree with such statements and remarked: “I'm not looking for colors and do not create them. I just try to portray things the way I see them. Let's not forget that everyone cannot see things equally, everyone has his own angle of vision, his own visual memory. One sees and perceives yellow, blue, pink, orange colors like this, and the other - quite differently. Therefore, these colors look different on the canvas.”

The artist preferred yellow, blue, pink, orange, lemon, orange and dogwood colors in his works. It is interesting that these colors, noticeably predominant in Bahlulzade’s paintings, do not bore at all, do not bother, on the contrary, they seem to illuminate the soul with a certain special light, and fill it with joy.

Paysages dedicated to the Caspian Sea, oil rigs, occupy a special place in the artist's work ("Caspian beauty", "Evening over the Caspian", etc.). He used spent whole days at sea, with oilmen on boats, platforms, overpasses, towers. Despite the similar coloring of these works, the artist was able to masterfully convey the contradictory nature of the Caspian.

Solo exhibitions of the artist were held in Algeria, Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, Tunisia, Norway, Bulgaria, Germany, Iraq, Cuba, Canada, Belgium, France and Japan.

Currently, the works of an outstanding Azerbaijani artist are kept in galleries and museums of various countries. Honored Art Worker, laureate of Azerbaijani State Prize, People's Artist Sattar Bahlulzade died October 14, 1974 in Moscow. He is buried in his native village of Amirjan.

Article by: Aygun Salmanova.

Painting: "Tears of Kapaz" by Sattar Bahlulzade.

Photos: Photos of Sattar Bahlulzade.

[beesandbooks1]

Discussion: The Surprising Sexuality of Bella Swan

To read this post on my blog instead, click here!

Blanket warning: This post will be discussing sex and sexual activity. Bella Swan is a minor in the beginning of the Twilight Saga, and thus this discussion concerns the sexuality of teenagers.

Bella Swan and her sexual awakening

When we first meet Bella in Twilight, she can be described as a pretty sexless and anti-romantic person. We find out through her experiences in the Twilight Saga that she’s never gone on dates, never had anyone express explicit attraction to her, and that Edward Cullen is her first real crush and love interest. She seems pretty analytical, all things considered, discussing her mother’s relationships with her father and stepfather pretty distantly. While she can almost understand attraction–pointing out that when her parents were young and more attractive she can almost understand why they rushed into marriage–she doesn’t openly acknowledge attraction as a motivation for anything until dealing with Edward.

Bella Swan has a very clear sexual awakening in Twilight. The first time she kisses Edward, she describes herself as burning up and suddenly losing control. In fact, throughout the rest of the series this is a common theme. Edward is constantly having to keep their kissing as chaste as possible to protect Bella from his dangerous venom (and his bloodlust) while Bella regularly describes herself as latching onto him, pushing him to go further. Bella experiences tangible sexual desire for Edward and continually tries to act on it, despite Edward’s fears and trepidation. We like to make memes and joke about how dedicated Bella was to having sex with him in Breaking Dawn, but that was just the culmination of a lot of encounters in which Bella’s desire and lust drive their physical interactions.

Bella’s autonomy versus Edward’s

This was an interesting and occasionally disconcerting aspect of the treatment of sex in the Saga. Edward asserts repeatedly that it’s too dangerous to do more than kiss and that he won’t risk it with Bella. He also later on asserts his desire to wait for marriage, placing his sexual autonomy in the way of Bella’s desires. This is actually surprising in a lot of ways. First and most obvious is the subversion of expectations. A lot of YA and New Adult fiction places women in the shoes of the autonomy debate, putting their desire to wait for marriage, love, or another important milestone before having sex for the first time (or just the first time with their partner) out as the obstacle that the man they are seeing must respect. While I don’t think it was Meyer’s intention to comment on the particularly distasteful way society ignores male sexual autonomy and the right of men to say no to sex, it’s still an unusual subversion of societal expectation.

The next reason I find Bella’s sexual desire and lack of care for marriage interesting is because of Meyer’s background. Stephenie Meyer is a Mormon, and the Mormon culture generally encourages waiting until marriage for women and has strict rules regulating sexuality for all young people in general. We see in other parts of Meyer’s writing where the Mormon values come into play, so it’s ultimately very surprising that the main POV character, Bella, who is largely portrayed as mature and wiser than her peers should be pushing for premarital sex against a man’s wishes. She ends up only agreeing to marry Edward because she wants to sleep with him, and a little bit because she wants to be with him forever. She figures their relationship will continue regardless of marriage but his conditions for sex are what finally convince her to marry at all. This is again a subversion of the usual expectations.

I also find Edward’s sexual autonomy interesting in the face of the almost sex positive Bella. Edward Cullen is a man that repeatedly says ‘no’ to sex with a willing partner because of his own values, regardless of which of those values are more powerfully motivating. He has no reason to fear being overpowered when Bella is a human, so he can and frequently does exercise his right to say “no” without fear of repercussions. After all, the biggest reason people will consent to a sexual encounter they don’t want is to avoid the potential consequences of saying otherwise. Edward resists Bella’s attempts to coerce or seduce him in part because he knows she cannot overpower him, as he is a vampire and can absolutely physically stop her if need be. Bella dances dangerously close to interfering with his autonomy by pushing him towards physical encounters he expresses discomfort with. And from Bella’s perspective, she doesn’t seem to be aware that she’s coming close to violating his consent. Again, I don’t think it was Meyer’s intention to point out that women are just as capable of violating sexual trust as men, but an interesting point nonetheless.

Sexuality in the rest of the cast

Sex is absolutely alluded to and explicitly discussed on occasion with regards to the rest of the cast–usually to reaffirm relationships. In particular, Rosalie and Emmett’s relationship is associated with implied sex and Jacob’s perspective in Breaking Dawn references implied sex as well. Unsurprisingly, outside of Bella and Edward’s direct discussions and engagements in sexual activity, sex is discussed without actually being discussed–probably due to the age of the intended audience and Meyer’s thoughts on premarital sex.

Rosalie and Emmett have a tempestuous and loving relationship, which Edward describes as having destroyed houses through sex. Rosalie and Emmett are the most conventionally attractive of the Cullens, and often come across as a heartbreakingly perfect couple. They love one another very much and go on elaborate honeymoon trips, frequently living separate from the rest of the Cullens as a married couple. Additionally, Rosalie’s story involves her assault leading to her death and her desire to have a family, specifically her wish for children. In many ways, Rosalie’s story is more grown up than the rest of the series in is tragedy and in her metaphorical struggle with infertility. It’s not wholly surprising for her character that she and her husband are the most clearly sexual of the characters, but it does stick out as unusually mature against the rest of the series.

Jacob’s perspective also reveals some implied discussions of sex. The first example comes when he himself goes to a park to deliberately attempt to find someone he can get over Bella with. The implication is pretty obvious: he intends to have a one nigh stand. That he doesn’t succeed can’t erase what seems pretty obvious. Thus we have a character without the hangups on premarital sex that Edward–the only other male character that expresses any degree of sexuality–has. Also, since much of the exposition relating to Imprinting is given by Jacob, Jacob does have to discuss sex to a certain degree.

Contradictory messages?

I’d say that as a YA author, having your eighteen-year-old protagonist marry straight out of high school and avoid premarital sex is making a pretty firm moral statement. I don’t know for certain if Meyer set out from the beginning to build a relationship with Bella and Edward that she hoped young girls would aspire to, or if she just couldn’t bring herself to put something she didn’t believe in into her books. From the commentary on the movie, I do know she was at least a little uncomfortable with Bella being sexualized as she was one of the people protesting how “sexy” Kristen Stewart looked during the scene where Edward kisses Bella in her bedroom. Despite this, Meyer wrote a pretty convincing sexual awakening for Bella’s character.

Up until Forks, Bella’s character motivation doesn’t include sex or relationships. She is pretty single-minded about taking care of her mother, and then a little bit about being a good kid. The implication is that before remarrying, Renee wasn’t very good about consistently paying bills and providing food, so Bella honestly had far more important things to worry about than boys (or girls). Her sexual awakening with Edward is actually a pretty interesting idea, then, because in Forks is the first time Bella has time to think about boys, relationships, and sex. And then Bella is repeatedly shut down in these urges by her partner, seemingly in an attempt to protect her. There are plenty of issues with Edward as a partner, we all know this (and I haven’t even read Midnight Sun yet), but I found his desire to save himself until marriage the least problematic thing about him.

How interesting is it that for three books we have the narrative of “Edward desires Bella but is scared of hurting her” before finally having “Edward’s personal choice for his sexuality is to save himself until marriage?” I would have much preferred if that had been out in the open, since without the discussion that takes place at the end of Eclipse, Bella seems to be the victim of being teased by Edward’s allure without ever being granted the payoff of more than a kiss–whatever vampiric danger reasons there are for not going further. Instead, we get the fact that Edward has been struggling with his preference for having sex after marriage without sharing this with Bella, who clearly was willing to respect that as she marries him for this reason. If Meyer was trying to portray premarital sex as a bad thing, she never really got around to it. Bella isn’t even considering sex until Eclipse, despite her growing sexuality, and the discussions she and Edward do have about it isn’t very respectful to the thoughts of either side of the issue.

Final thoughts

I know that it seems awfully pointless to discuss a niche topic in the context of a book series people aren’t enamored with, especially when it’s pretty clear the mos interesting parts of this were not the author’s intentions. I don’t think Stephenie Meyer intended for the Twilight craze to happen at all, especially when you look at the backlash that happened. While there are legitimate issues in the series–capitalizing on the Quileute tribe’s existence while also doing some pretty problematic things with the Quileute characters comes to mind–one thing that cannot be attributed to the series is the hatred of teenage girls that drove the hatred for the series. The vast majority of criticisms for this series came from people whose deep seated hatred of teenage girls led them to find every fault possible (except for the majority of the series’ actual faults). Needles to say, this backlash affected me in a number of ways as I was a teenage girl who initially liked Twilight.

This was not a conscious thought I had upon first reading, but I want us to consider being a teenage girl in a confusing world where half of popular media says relationships and making out and even sex are important and cool parts of being a teenager, while another half of popular media condemns teenage girls for exploring their sexuality however they may be comfortable. As a teenage girl, saving yourself is worthy of mockery and having sex regardless of the context is worthy of slut-shaming. To have a romance series endorsed by mothers as well as teenagers in which the teenage girl explores feeling sexual desire is pretty interesting. She’s not shamed for desiring Edward, it’s only natural after all. And the questions of consent and autonomy are danced around with his desire to save himself for marriage–an unintentional reminder that women are capable of sexual assault as well and that everyone deserves the safety to say “no.”

Do I think it’s revolutionary for Twilight to have included some of Bella’s sexual awakening? No. In fact, I think it’s one of the things that could have been improved if Meyer was a better writer or better re-writer to make a more impressive series. But I do think that Twilight is more notable for the deep hatred it inspired than its writing. I think it’s important to continue to discuss Twilight in the context of what it gave teenage girls and who opposed teenage girls having it. Edward wasn’t a great love interest, but one thing we can say for him is he never forced sex on Bella. He never pressured her, he wanted to wait for marriage. As a result, Bella’s sexual awakening is slower and paced out with her own growing desires and wants. She never has to rush through things because she isn’t having sex. And I think it’s good for teenage girls to have a character whose desires awaken in the first book but isn’t having sex until later, has sex with someone she stays together with and gets to grow with, and is never pressured into the sex.

[smuttymess]

bts astro soulmate reading | for alexis

sign: gemini sun | leo moon | pisces rising

lover: Park Jimin |  soulmate: Jung Hoseok

This reading is for Alexis, a lovely Jimin stan who also rides hard for OT7. Jimin is also big on OT7, so he would certainly approve. Hope you enjoy this one, love, and happy Jimin/Libra season! <3

Ah, free-spirited Gemini, is there anyone who can truly figure you out? Effortlessly sociable, charming and exuberant, you are likely admired by many but understood by few. You are the social butterfly, the person that people “click” with right away as a result of your boundless energy, charisma and independence.  Your rising sign is how you present yourself to the world, and with Pisces in this placement you are innately intuitive, emotional, and sensitive to the world around you. This is a particularly contradictory chart with each placement in a different element: one that flows like water, runs like air, and burns strong like fire. With this combination, and especially with Gemini at the helm, it likely that you’ve struggled to find your place in a world wherein people want you to subscribe to one way of thinking and living. Your rising sign guides how you present yourself to others, and an ascendent in Pisces means you are highly adaptable, your personality shifting to fit your environment. Your Gemini Sun is inherently dual and ever-changing on its own, and the addition of a Pisces ascendent can naturally lead you to mold yourself in accordance to your surroundings leading others wondering who you truly are. It's possible that you may not have the answer just yet, or that this multifaceted nature is in fact who you are at the core. With your Moon in Leo, you seamlessly command respect in any given situation - your passion for your ideas practically pouring out of you in the most compelling of ways. You are often able to focus and master one idea or project at a time, making you unstoppable in the pursuit of your goals. As a result, whatever version of "you" that you present to the world on any given day is likely to be received positively by whoever is in your orbit. While your Leo is quite prone to exaggeration and bold expressions of your emotions, your friends and family know this is simply in your nature as a product of the conflicting elements that rule your spirit, but are happy to let you be the star of the show.

A true social butterfly, you are the friend that people look to for an enjoyable night out - wherever you are is where others inherently want to be! Your Gemini/Leo makes you thrive in the spotlight, feeling truly celebrated and seen by those in your orbit, so you are likely to enjoy fun, active environments and activities where you shine. This leads you to a disco themed roller rink party in the city, which allows you to take on a new persona for the night and dress up in something truly fabulous while sneaking in a little bubbly. You are in your element and as the beams of light dance overhead, illuminating your flirtatious, magnetic Leo charm, all eyes are on you - including Park Jimin's. He's a stunner in a sleek, retro-inspired floral button down and dark jeans, but what really grabs you is the sweet smile he flashes as you glide across the floor. Maybe its the way you move like the wind, or your characteristically mysterious Pisces rising dreaminess that leads him to sync up with you, but there he is, skating side-by-side. You're happy to find that not only is this boy as gorgeous up close - his eyes twinkling as brightly as the lights above - but he also has some serious moves to rival your own. It is in your flirtatious little competition that you notice the precision in which he moves, but also the way his ass looks in those flared jeans, and how his lips curl into a sly smile as he senses that he's got you.

Two free-flowing air signs such as these inherently get each other, and this duo moves from friends to lovers at a rapid pace. Both you and Jimin are very idealistic with the people you fall into like with, and you know very well how to savor every moment with that special someone, showing them the full breadth of your love for the time that you are together in a naive but sincere hope that it never ends. It is the stability sought after by his Libra Sun and your Leo Sun, however, that balances scales so that this deepens into a true friendship and not simply a flighty whirlwind romance. In each other's presence - and even outside of it - you two have an impenetrable connection that is almost all-consuming. Jimin's Mars in Scorpio makes him a perfectionist in his work but isn't the one to forget about their partner even for an hour, sneaking cute selfies from dance practice and sending over pastries from his favorite bakery. With his Moon in Gemini, there is a duality that you can deeply understand and appreciate - he needs his freedom and spontaneity as much as you do and enjoys sweeping you away for 1:1 time with just a moment's notice. He may be sending you sweet texts that soon move into something a bit naughtier as soon as he's away from the boys. How is my pretty girl. Can you send me a picture? ;) There is no way you're ever saying no to him, especially when he's feeling needy - nobody is as persistent as a charming, horny Libra. Please, princess, can I see? Sex in this pairing is light and fun, starting with some foreplay via selfie and ending with kisses planted along your collarbone the minute he gets home. Jimin's Libra Sun and Venus in Scorpio combination makes him equally playful and passionate in bed, wanting to kiss and nibble on your ears, neck, and lips long before his hands reach under the loose fabric of your shirt. Unpredictable Gemini, you are just as likely to let him ravish you against the wall as you are to drag him by the collar to your room, pushing him down onto the bed and watching his eyes light up with anticipation as you kneel down between his knees. He is more than happy to let you take the lead while takes in the tantalizing visual of your hands on his cock, your tongue flicking his sensitive head until he's a panting, moaning mess, begging you to climb on top of him. Heaven may just be the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips as you grind onto him, his lush lips falling apart in bliss as he takes you in.

While the infatuation period here is sweet as honey, trouble meets this couple when it comes to true commitment and partnership long term. While you both share air qualities, there are placements elsewhere that serve to cause too much friction, primarily in the ways that you show love in your romantic relationships. Jimin's Venus in Scorpio makes him controlling, jealous and possessive when in love, which is just something that is innately against your core nature that needs a high level of independence. Your Venus in Scorpio is flirtatious, explorative and energetic - often leaving Jimin feeling the need to chase you and earn your affection. When that prompts you to run away further, the Libra withdraws their attention, only serving to anger the attention-seeking Libra and exacerbates the issue until trust is all but fully eroded. You cannot stand to constantly reassure him that you care for him and do not want anyone else, and without personal work this level of insecurity is entirely too much for the relationship to sustain.

A true lover of learning and experience, you likely enjoy being out in the world, mixing and mingling with diverse range of people with varied backgrounds and interests. You are not one to stay in one place for too long - there is a wide world out there that you want to see, taste and feel as deeply as possible during your time here on earth. This proclivity has the likelihood to bring you to interesting places, both local and abroad, where you are able to express your full self alway from the mundanity of everyday life - it is through these adventures that you find meaning. It is on one particular night during one of your spontaneous jaunts - think to Santorini or Sao Paolo - where you find yourself engrossed in warm, flirtatious conversation with a stranger who seems to know how to capture attention as seamlessly as you do. It is almost impossible not to notice him standing against the wall: his brick colored button up and dark jeans clearly outlining his dancer's physique while his jet black, slicked back hair perfectly accentuates the sharpness of his nose and jaw as his head bobs to the music. He posses a mysterious, almost intimidating aura that makes you achingly curious to get his attention and learn more. It is not long before you are chest to chest on the dance floor floating through a decadent, romantic daze, his eyes glued to you like a puzzle looking to be figured out. You have no idea what any of this means, and you don't care - the only thing existing in that moment is the man whose fingers are intertwined with yours, his hips moving to the beat, expertly guiding your movements as you sway to the rhythm of the evening. Your bodies are incredibly in sync, something you don't hesitate to explore further back at his suite later that night.

These are two individuals who operate on extremely independent, creative and unique levels, which you boldly express through statement clothing and curious-quick witted conversation. It is not unlikely for you to often feel quite misunderstood, as if the world could never comprehend the depths of their character and soul. These commonalities bond you right away, creating a refuge for the two of you to playfully discuss so many of life's nuances that only these very curious and introspective signs can understand. You, Gemini, are a people-person, likely interested in connecting others through acts of service - the passion and intelligence when you speak about these topics pour from you so effortlessly, which is something Hoseok's kind Aquarius can appreciate. You enjoy bouncing ideas off of the goal-oriented Hobi who is happy to hear your often big-pictured ideas and strategize how to make moves towards your many goals. Your innate charm and communication skills unlock a more emotional, open-hearted side of Hoseok which is often shielded by a complex, ambiguous persona - a trademark of the Aquarius man. While your Gemini Sun makes you spontaneous and flighty, your Leo Moon brings focus and stability to your relationships, wherein you prefer to devote yourself to one love interest at a time. This works quite well with Hoseok's Taurus moon which is steady, strong-willed, and determined when it comes to the things he likes, and does not shy away from letting you know it, which makes your Leo heart soar. A connection like this is too good to pass up, leaving you both interested in continuing beyond simply a vacation hook-up.

Living in different countries may deter some, but this is a pair that knows how to be creative and keep each other stimulated anytime, anywhere. You are more happy to be adored and devoured by Hoseok's passionate Pisces Venus, which makes him dreamy, playful and effortlessly charming in his romantic life - stopping at nothing to get you pining for him. He knows how to keep you on your toes - from impromptu flights to that city you mentioned wanting to visit, shipping artwork you admired straight to your door, or sending a kinky gift to you at work with a note to send him a selfie right away. Distance is nothing in the eyes of Hobi, whose Aquarius Sun is progressive, unusual and rebellious in that nowhere is off limits to him. Expect late night calls while he's alone in the hotel, his deep voice sending shockwaves through your system as you step away from dinner with your friends. You love how he can go from playful to commanding, asking about your day before instructing you to lock your bathroom door and slowly guide your fingers across your nipples, pinching each nub before moving towards your navel. You can hear him hum as your breath hitches, your fingers stopped inches from your clit as directed before you're able to close the gap. You're such a good girl for me, making your friends can wait. I need you to come for me right now - can you do that for me? This is a rhetorical question - he knows exactly how to press the right buttons, purring into your ear and teasing you to the point of near devastation. The duality of his persona from sweet boyfriend to soft dom allows you to let go, bringing out a more exhibitionist, unabashed side of you that isn't afraid to let curses slip from your lips as he brings you to your edge, your muscles tensing around your fingers as he keeps the commands coming. Moan for me, baby. Tell me how much you miss me. This is a duo that can sustain lasting sexual fire because of their shared creativity, intelligence and curiosity that you can access in each other. Whenever Hoseok does land in your city, you know it is only a matter of time before you're chest to chest, his hands gripping your hair, face and neck with an intensity that comes from several weeks apart and insane levels of foreplay - something only a weekend of riding his long, perfect cock can fix.

Ultimately, the merging of Gemini & Aquarius can allow for deep emotional support and loyalty alongside with the much-needed autonomy and playfulness that both signs require. This is an extremely delicate balance, one that only two air signs could realistically achieve though it is not done without some hard work. Hoseok's Sun and Mars is in Aquarius, which contributes to his laser-focus on his goals that prevents him from always being able to give you all of the attention that your Leo heart truly requires on a consistent basis. Your burning discontent is likely to manifest in fiery, passionate outbursts wherein you feel like the victim of an Aquarius's occasional disconnectedness when focused elsewhere. This pairing stands to work on using their words and not letting little things slide, as would serve to deepen the connection between both parties to prove they can go the distance and focus on what matters most in a partnership: unconditional love and respect. With increased maturity and patience, this duo can certainly go the distance, creating a life that combines his cultural contributions as a performer with your desire to help humanity reach higher levels of empathy and understanding. Natural rebels, is a couple that is likely to shirk conventionality and rigid societal rules to ensure their own physical and emotional comfort. This specific pairing points to a life of extensive travel and a very public life, working internationally to expand education and creating programs in the arts in communities in need. It is when you channel this incredible energy that you can spread your boundless love and creativity to the world around you and truly improve society at large.

[kingdomofthelogos]

Reason Belongs to God

Read Mark 4

Download a printable version here.

The world desires us to commit the suicide of thought, to take our God-given will and make it passive to serve both sin and hell. Our faith calls us to be patient in waiting for God but also hastening the work of Christ’s Kingdom. The world often wants to bait us into going to war over narratives, emotional opinions, and all things petty, but Christ wants us to preach His message: the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15) This is the message that we must preach, realizing that reason and truth belong to God. When Christ calmed the storm at the end of Mark 4, He was giving us evidence that we must either accept or ignore. Either Christ calmed the storm or He did not, and if He indeed did such a miracle, then that means something substantial about everything He said. We do well to illuminate the truth of Jesus’ miracles, for they show us how the spiritual affairs break into our material world.

We tend to think of our faith in the abstract, that the spiritual warfare of powers and principalities is confined to the heavenly realms. We tend to think of the supernatural as that which breaks the laws of physics and reality, and therefore it can be dismissed as both impossible and irrational in an orderly world. However, to you I posit this: that perhaps the supernatural is not the breaking of the laws of physics, but the perfection of them. Perhaps the great miracles of God are not behind the curtain manipulations of the elements in life, or the quick swapping of cards done by a magician's sleight of hand, where God quickly rips a broken piece from our world and replaces it with a new one before anyone sees His dangerous appearance, but rather the miracles are the skillful and holy actions of the resolute hand of the Master of all. The miracles are not breakdowns of logic in the fallen world, but restorations back to the providential order of creation. 

Inasmuch as Jesus teaches us wisdom through parables, He is extremely gracious in showing us signs. The calming of the sea is a material fact, and through such an act of domestication Jesus shows us how the immaterial virtues break into the material world. Do not be deceived, the spiritual world  is breaking into our physical one and it has a substantial impact on everything in life.

The arena of objective truth belongs to God, and it is the devil who lives in opinions and subjectivity. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth and at the end of each day said “it is good,” but the devil came along and tried to deceive Eve in saying “did God really say?” Jesus firmly declared that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, but His murderous accusers wanted to contrive a narrative where Jesus said He was the King of the Jews. Not even the ancient world would deny the fact of the resurrection or the material miracles of healing and exorcisms; therefore, it would create narratives and perspectives to distract from the hard facts.

Reason belongs to God, and the more people pay attention to the logical order of God’s creation the more they are drawn to God. It has been a very clever trick of hell to make us believe the foolery that reason and faith are contradictory to one another. Reason is not opposed to God, but the whitewashed idolatry that charades as reason is. Hell wants us to view truth as a sensation, something to only summon as it pleases.

CS Lewis writes very cleverly on this matter in the Screwtape Letters. Uncle Screwtape, a demon in hell, writes to his nephew Wormwood saying: “It sounds as if you supposed that argument was the way to keep him out of God’s clutches. That might have been so if he had lived a few centuries earlier. At that time the humans still knew pretty well when a thing was proved and when it was not; and if it was proved they really believed it. They still connected thinking with doing and were prepared to alter their way of life as the result of a chain of reasoning. But what with the weekly news and other such weapons we have largely altered that. Your man has been accustomed, ever since he was a boy, to have a dozen incompatible philosophies dancing about together inside his head. He doesn’t think of doctrines as primarily “true” or “false”, but as “academic” or “practical”, “outworn” or “contemporary”, “conventional” or “ruthless”. Jargon, not argument, is your best ally in keeping him from the Church. By the very act of arguing, you awake the patient’s reason; and once it is awake, who can foresee the result? Even if a particular train of thought can be twisted so as to end in our favour, you will find that you have been strengthening in your patient the fatal habit of attending to universal issues and withdrawing his attention from the stream of immediate sense experiences.”

What CS Lewis is trying to teach through these demonic conversations is that reason and objective reality belong to God, but hell wants to distract you with subjectivity, with the unreasonable world where you have “your truth” and I have “my truth,” and nothing is actually held as true. The fact is this: if people will use their minds to contemplate the healings and miracles of Christ, things which were not even denounced by those who hated Jesus as He walked the earth, then they will be inclined to realize that He is Lord of all creation and the true Messiah. Those who disbelieved in Jesus could not denounce Him on the basis of rejecting His miracles or resurrection, so they had to ignore those facts and make statements like “would God really care about your sexual life,” or “how could a loving God permit suffering.” All rejections involve some form of ignoring the material truth of His miracles, because if you honestly square your mind around calming a storm, or around a bodily resurrection, then your mind is awakened to the truth of Christ.

In Acts 4:16-17 the ruling counsel said 16 “What are we going to do with these men?” they asked. “Everyone living in Jerusalem knows they have performed a notable sign, and we cannot deny it. 17 But to stop this thing from spreading any further among the people, we must warn them to speak no longer to anyone in this name.” The counsel in Acts 4 included Annas and Caiaphas, two High Priests who had interviewed Jesus and then sent Him bound to the cross. By the time of the events in Acts 4, they realize they cannot argue with the factual truth of Jesus. If people know anything about the resurrection or healings done in His Name, they will discover the truth that He is the Messiah. Therefore, the only choice they have is to censor the discussion. If any light is shed on the subject, even in a biased way, they run the risk of the truth getting out. Their only choice is to outlaw any mention of it. 

If someone does not want a subject talked about in the public sphere, history tells us this is almost always because giving any light on the matter will disprove the official story. One does not have to silence things which disprove themselves. Our world has a big problem with shoes being made by slaves in sweatshops, and recently I have been trying to buy some shoes not made in a sweatshop. There is a particular company that asserts itself as being a virtuous shoe company, giving a pair of shoes to an impoverished nation for every pair someone buys in a developed country. However, they will not give a straight answer to the simple question “are your shoes made in a sweatshop?” Here is a truth: if someone cannot answer a simple question like this in broad daylight, then the answer is not good. If something is indeed false, then the best tactic for defeating it is to shed more light on the subject, not to cut out to the tongues of dissenters and hope that others forget their dissent. 

In our modern world we are afflicted by an inability to receive truth. Sometimes it is a rejection of the truth, and other times a lack of interest. Regardless of intention, our world only tends to believe something is true based on whether or not we like the consequences of something to be true. Rather than letting the truth be its own reward, we tend to be more focused on whether or not we want to live with something being true.

For instance, if we consider the fact that a child has a unique human DNA at the moment of conception, then we will indeed realize that aborting an unborn son or daughter is indeed murdering a child of God at his or her most defenseless state. There are many in the world, even the secular world, who will happily quote 1 John 3:15 saying, “anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer,” so that it can feel morally superior in giving a tut-tut to those who speak roughly, but at the same time they will bear false witness about abortion with the euphemism of calling it healthcare. They ignore the very fact of murder because they do not want to live with the consequential fact that those who advance it are openly advancing murder. The assertion that abortion is healthcare is not rooted in logic, reason, or truth, but in the desire to appear morally superior; however, any recognition that a child is indeed a child will immediately destroy any notion of justice or mercy. It is through this attitude that some become so obsessed with wanting to slander the church as ignorant and immoral that they  completely ignore the fact that they had to stop kissing a statue of baal in order to speak.

Despite this sad degeneration into paganism, we must count it as joy when people kiss a statue to baal before slandering us in our faith. For the more open the world is about its paganistic insanity the easier it is for us to draw the distinction between the Way of Life and the way of death. James 1:2 instructs us to consider it all joy, my brothers and sisters, when you encounter various trials. 

Hell is filled with storytellers and yarn-eaters, but the seat of Heaven has a watchful eye through which all things unknown will be made known. God is one of truth, and in the business of making things known. At the heart of revival, is recognition of an almighty and absolute God. Christ wants us to step into the light and walk in the truth. The more we speak the truth of Christ’s authority over the wind and storm, the more the Gospel is spread. It is God who wants us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, and hell who wants us to be passive and have others think for us. For so long we have been shy about asserting the hard truths of Christ’s power to heal and cast out demons, but the more we awaken the organ of critical thinking on these issues, the more glory is given to God.

When Christ displayed His authority over the sea, He demonstrated with evidence that His power is genuine. He is not here to dismantle creation, but out of love to restore it. The sea is a great mystery, for its depths wait in eternal darkness far beyond the reach of ordinary man. Yet, Christ is even lord over the sea. The miracles of Christ are not a creed, philosophy, or even a narrative. They are a fact, a piece of evidence that one must then either reconcile or reject. Christ gave us the means of verifying the great truths He revealed, both those which were moral and those which were material. 

Our modern world is extraordinarily concerned with whether an idea is “what the scholars say” or if it is merely an opinion held by the “non-college educated,” whether something is the “prevailing narrative” or “conspiracy theory.” But this is the suicide of thought, and Jesus comes in strict rebuke of it. Jesus calms the storms, and He gives us something which is a material fact. People can bicker all day long about whether or not they think Him a sorcerer, but if they recognize the hard fact that He calmed the storm then something serious is awakened. Moreover, the chances are that if people come to terms with the fact that He calmed the storm, they will then realize He is Lord over the sea, and if He is Lord over the Sea then He is indeed the Messiah. From this fact, it will then become certain that His teachings are indeed correct.

The suicide of thought is very serious problem in our modern world. We must understand that reason belongs to God. The more we tell the Gospel and trust its truth to convict fallen hearts, the more it will spread. God wants to transform us and restore our minds that we might be free from the inescapable burdens.

Ephesians 6:10-12 instructs us: 10 finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. 11 Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. 12 For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. It can be discouraging to realize the sinister dimensions of the evil against which we truly stand. However, we must raise up courage. We are called to both be still and know that I am God, as Psalm 46:10 details, but to also contend for the Gospel as instructed in Jude 1:3-4, where the apostle appeals to us saying: I find it necessary to write and appeal to you to contend for the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints. 4 For certain intruders have stolen in among you, people who long ago were designated for this condemnation as ungodly, who pervert the grace of our God into licentiousness and deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ. Peter gives us clarity on how we walk this straight and narrow pathway. 2 Peter 3:11-12 read: since all these things are to be destroyed in this way, what sort of people ought you to be in holy conduct and godliness, 12 looking for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set ablaze and dissolved, and the elements will melt with fire?

We must be patient in waiting for God but also hastening the work of Christ’s Kingdom. The world often wants to bait us into going to war with one another over petty things, but Christ wants us to preach His message, which we find in Mark 1:15, the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.” That is the message that we must preach, and when we let the Gospel out of the cage it will awaken minds more than any popular topic of our day. Sure, the world was obsessed with the politics of Rome vs Jerusalem, but Jesus’ message was altogether different. Jesus did not debate the world on the topics it wanted, but affirmed an entirely different way of thinking. It was the Gospel and its unwavering truth, and it alone is the way to good, the true, and the beautiful.

[ncityofangels]

Shoot Out (Mafia!AU Jooheon x fem!Reader pt.2)

a/n - Sorry this took me so damn long to write, we all know I’m shit at updating properly. Anyway, I don’t really have much to say on this one. Hope y’all enjoy. <3

Part 1 <---

Summary - You meet Jooheon on a whim during a traumatic accident in your life. You don’t know what he does for a living, but you know he’s well off. As things progress you start to doubt where all the money comes from. One night you walk in on him handling mob business and get pulled into a life of crime and treachery. Things are good for a while, you being the Bonnie to his Clyde, but soon you start to question how far would you go for the one you love?

Word Count - 1.8k

Genre - some fluff, mostly angst towards the later chapters, maybe a sprinkle of smut who knows ;)

Warnings - definitely some “vulgar” language.

The pain woke you up. The sharp sting of a wound you barely recalled receiving. You assumed someone had given you painkillers to allow the little bit of rest you had actually gotten. You awoke to a bizarre and unfamiliar landscape. A four poster bed with ivory satin sheets enveloped your body. “What the hell?” you whispered. The last thing you remembered was walking home after work down a dim avenue on your way to your apartment complex. The homeless person. An image of a battered old man asking for money flashed through your brain. That’s when you really felt the stitches holding the gash in your side from continuing to gush blood. “Damn that hurts like a bitch” you whispered to yourself again. You still couldn’t tell where exactly you were, but it was nice enough to have a fully decorated guest room, so it most definitely couldn’t be a hospital. “Stab wounds tend to do that”. You heard a voice from the corner of the room, and realized there was someone standing in the doorway. A tall man with chestnut brown hair, a broad figure and a serious expression joined you in the room, shutting the door behind him. “Who the hell are you? Where am I?” You panic, immediately jumping to the worst possible scenario you could muster. That of course being that you were sold into sex trafficking and were only ‘saved’ so you could service men. This undoubtedly was not the case but you wouldn’t figure that out until later. You could tell your sudden outburst surprised him. “Well….um….I’m Shownu. This is my boss’ house. We found you bleeding on the street...uh….we have a kind of on-site doctor here and this was closer than the hospital so…” the tall man, apparently named Shownu responded. You were still suspicious about the whole situation but you decided to drop it for now, the pain in your side once again returning. You lifted your thin shirt to reveal the large bandage taped to the side of your torso. While you observed your wound, Shownu kept talking. “I was told to tell you that since you’re a guest here you’re invited to dinner tonight. There’s a dress in the closet for you to wear, and the table is set at 6. After that, if you desire, transportation will be arranged to take you back to your apartment.” he finished, proud of himself for properly delivering the message to me. You went to tell him that dinner wouldn’t be necessary and that you wished to go home as soon as possible; however, you didn’t get a chance to reply, as the boy had already escaped the room. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice” you thought to yourself. You gently rose from the bed, making sure you didn’t irritate your laceration, making your way towards the towering wardrobe that was placed in your room. You open the wardrobe to reveal an emerald green lace cocktail dress and white stiletto heels. “You have GOT to be kidding me.” I said to myself. “They do know I literally just got stabbed, right?” I sighed. Obviously this wasn’t something I was going to be able to get out of. I began to carefully undress out of my ‘shady mansion surgeon’-issued clothes and slip into the small piece of fabric provided to me. “This is weird as fuck, but what the hell”.

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Jooheon POV

“I delivered the message, sir.” Shownu said, plopping himself down in one of Jooheon’s office chairs. The superior responded with a nod of his head, nothing more. “If I may ask boss, why exactly are we involving ourselves in this?” Shownu continued. Jooheon paused the ledgers he was working on and glanced up at his employee. “What kind of mob boss would I be if I just let an innocent bystander bleed out inside the boundaries of my empire?” Jooheon joked. In all seriousness, he knew well that she could become a liability. If word got out that there had been a murder within feet of one of his tenants shops, many friends to his ‘business’ could pull out of transactions for fear of their inventory being compromised. Murder was second nature in his line of work, but any news of a non-mafia related crime spike could jeopardize future negotiations. “Speaking of the events of last night, did you take care of the man that caused this?” Jooheon asked. Shownu raised his head, responding “I think it’s safe to say he won’t be a problem anymore”. Jooheon looked satisfied. “Good. Now I want you to do one more thing for me”.

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Y/N POV

Once you were dressed, you finally liberated yourself from the confines of your room. Shownu never told you where to go for dinner so you turned down multiple hallways and ventured down a bunch of stairwells before finally coming to what you thought may be the right place. As you explored, you noticed the beautiful rustic yet modern designs in the house. From the wooden beams extending from the floor to the ceiling, to the cozy furniture included in every room. The design of the house definitely made it feel a lot more like a home, despite the size. Once in the dining room, you sit down in one of the many chairs at the table. The food was surprisingly already served and ready to eat; however, your host had yet to arrive. “Nice of you to invite a guest to dinner and not show up” you whispered to yourself, a little irritated that you got dragged to dinner with this guy and he had the nerve to be late. “Sorry about that, I had some…..business to take care of.” A man, assumedly the host of this dinner and the owner of the house, walked towards the table from a room you had yet to see. Shit, he probably heard you make that comment. He had sleek black hair and an intimidating face, but something about him was attractive. He was wearing a black suit with a green undershirt, coincidentally matching your dress. Everything about him was contradictory. His face was serious, but in some ways very soft. Like his true demeanor was hidden behind a daunting facade. You wished you could stop analyzing every little thing about him but it’s like he had a gravitational pull. “I’m Jooheon” the man said, taking his seat at the head of the table. “I’m…” You went to respond to him but he cut you off. “I know who you are”. You guessed he’s not the most well-mannered person you’ve ever met. “How exactly do you know who I am?” you implored. “We got your purse back” He responded, stuffing his mouth with whatever food was on his plate. Alright then, not a big talker either. You slowly started to eat your food, sensing that you weren’t going to get much out of him right now. At least the alfredo you were eating tasted pretty good. As all food should when it comes from the kitchen of as grand a house as this one. “How’s the wound?” Jooheon asked, restarting whatever ‘conversation’ we had initiated before; however, you were done playing games, you wanted answers. “What made you think you could just bring me to your house and patch me up instead of taking me to the hospital? I’ve never met you before” you stated. Your question was abrupt but he maintained his composure, unshaken by your urgency. “I’m sorry the accommodations I made for you aren’t suitable enough. I remind you that I could have let you die on the street without as much as a lift of a finger, so I would appreciate a little thanks in that regard” He threw back. You were shocked. How was this man already so good at throwing things back in your face. You finished what little was left on your plate and effectively dodged the response you received from your host. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. If it’s not too much to ask I’d like to be taken home now.” You quickly responded. Luckily, he had finished his dinner too and was noticeably irritated with your presence. “I think that can be arranged.” He replied. “Wait by the front door. I’ll call for an escort. I hope next time we can meet on better terms, Y/N” With that final statement, he retreated back to the hallway he originally entered from. “Hopefully I won’t get so lucky” you whispered to yourself, making your way to the entrance to the estate.

Once in the car, you thought of the events of the past 24 hours. First you were mutilated by some random homeless man. That was fun. Then you were taken to this random rich man’s house to get operated on by a currently unknown surgeon. After that you had dinner with this random rich man in his luxurious home. Now you’re finally on your way home. Honestly, this was the most adventure you’d gotten in years, but you just wanted to crawl into your own bed, in your own clothes and go back to your normal life. You arrived at your apartment pretty quickly, thus making you think that you weren’t too far away to begin with. You made a mental observation of that fact and tucked it away in some filing cabinet in your brain. Once you came to a complete stop, you hopped out of the expensive car, thanked the driver and walked up to your door. You already sensed that something was off, but you didn’t realize until you let your eyes drift around the entrance to your house. The first thing you noticed as your eyes moved upward was the brand new, state-of-the-art electronic door lock that was now installed on your door. But that wasn’t all. Security Cameras. All around your complex. Your landlord was cheap as hell so you knew he didn’t buy them. “What the hell is all of this?” you whispered softly, wondering how all these gadgets found their way to your doorstep. The last thing that caught your eye was the bouquet of white roses placed on your ‘Welcome Home’ doormat. You slowly leaned down to pick up the arrangement, carefully not to jerk too much as to bother your bandage. You noticed a familiar label attached to the wrapping around the flowers. They were from one of your favorite floral shops nearby, Lily’s. As you examined the bouquet you noticed a white card dangling from one of the roses. “Let’s see who these are from” you said, delicately opening the card to reveal a short message. “Rest up. We’ll be seeing each other very soon. -J”.

[secretlyatargaryen]

The Strings of Those Who Came Before: Part III - I'm You Writ Small

In part one I wrote about Tyrion's conception of justice and how that clashes with Tywin's values and leadership, and in part two I discussed how Tyrion compares himself to his father and often tries to imitate Tywin as a leader.

I often see the quote that lends itself to the title of this installment used to indicate how similar Tyrion and Tywin are, but here I am going to show that it means exactly the opposite. In part two I discussed how Tyrion's attempts to draw on his father's ruthlessness backfire for him. In this part I am going to talk about how Tyrion's attempts to mirror Tywin fail because Tyrion just isn't as ruthless as Tywin. Which is also why I think Tyrion's political (and moral) successes are when he isn't following his lord father's example.

Previously I discussed Tyrion's challenge of Cersei to protect Alayaya, and how he draws upon Tywin to make himself play the part of the monster Cersei expects him to be. In part two I said that this ends up backfiring because his threat is used against him at his trial, but it also backfires for another very important reason: because Tyrion isn't Tywin. For all that Tyrion cites that his father taught him to follow through on his threats, he can't follow through on his threat against Tommen.

"I promised my sister I would treat Tommen as she treated Alayaya," he remembered aloud. He felt as though he might retch. "How can I scourge an eight-year-old boy?" But if I don’t, Cersei wins.

Moreover, for all he thinks about “winning” against Cersei (someday I will write about Lannisters and their obsession with winning and games, and the “game of thrones” and how that translates to how they treat people), he is shocked when Tywin thinks he would have.

"You were the one who taught me that a good threat is often more telling than a blow. Not that Joffrey hasn't tempted me sore a few hundred times. If you're so anxious to whip people, start with him. But Tommen . . . why would I harm Tommen? He's a good lad, and mine own blood."

What’s also kind of interesting about this quote is that we hear from Tyrion two contradictory lessons he’s absorbed from Tywin. One, that sometimes a threat is better than the actual punishment, but also that you shouldn’t make threats unless you mean them.

This entire subplot highlights a fundamental difference between Tyrion and Tywin because not only can Tyrion not be the monster he was both raised to be and raised to believe he was, but he also does something that Tywin absolutely cannot understand because he does it to protect Alayaya, a common woman of disrepute, the kind of woman Tywin sees as nothing. That Tyrion would put the life of one innocent above the reputation of House Lannister is incalculable to Tywin.

Although Tyrion is morally opposed to Tywin's red wedding, he does commit his own share of war crimes, but even in his ruthless use of wildfire, he is appalled by the true amount of devastation it causes.

He found himself outside the city, walking through a world without color. Ravens soared through a grey sky on wide black wings, while carrion crows rose from their feasts in furious clouds wherever he set his steps. White maggots burrowed through black corruption. The wolves were grey, and so were the silent sisters; together they stripped the flesh from the fallen. There were corpses strewn all over the tourney fields. The sun was a hot white penny, shining down upon the grey river as it rushed around the charred bones of sunken ships. From the pyres of the dead rose black columns of smoke and white-hot ashes. My work, thought Tyrion Lannister. They died at my command.

[...]

So many dead, so very many. Their corpses hung limply, their faces slack or stiff or swollen with gas, unrecognizable, hardly human. The garments the sisters took from them were decorated with black hearts, grey lions, dead flowers, and pale ghostly stags. Their armor was all dented and gashed, the chainmail riven, broken, slashed. Why did I kill them all? He had known once, but somehow he had forgotten.

This is consistent with Tyrion having grown up believing that he has to imitate his father to be taken seriously politically, but not truly being able to cast empathy aside the way Tywin is able to, which ultimately does make Tyrion a better leader and lead to Tywin's downfall.

Moreover, Tyrion's own political downfall is punctuated by his statement that he is just like Tywin.

"You . . . you are no . . . no son of mine."

"Now that's where you're wrong, Father. Why, I believe I'm you writ small.

Many people read this as literal, but it's delivered with a huge dose of irony. Despite achieving conquest over his father, Tyrion does not say this in a moment of triumph or political success. He says it because he has failed. He is leaving Westeros a ruined man and guilty of the more terrible crime of Shae’s murder, and Tyrion doesn’t deny his own guilt. Which foreshadows that, rather than achieving greatness from mimicking Tywin, Tyrion's political and moral triumph will be a rejection of Tywin's philosophy.

Now, when we talk about Tyrion as a future game player we have to talk about his current goal of joining Daenerys. And I've written quite a bit before about how even though Tyrion's is motivated by violent desires, when he gets to Daenerys, he is going to be affected by her just cause and desire to protect others. He already is.

The dwarf shrugged. "I know that she spent her childhood in exile, impoverished, living on dreams and schemes, running from one city to the next, always fearful, never safe, friendless but for a brother who was by all accounts half-mad … a brother who sold her maidenhood to the Dothraki for the promise of an army. I know that somewhere out upon the grass her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I knowshe is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has crossed the grasslands and the red waste, survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet.

He also has a moment where he criticizes Daenerys' political decisions and compares them to what his father would have done. Which is not surprising, since Tyrion is always comparing his own actions to what his father would have done.

The fact that there were any good wells at all within a day's march of the city only went to prove that Daenerys Targaryen was still an innocent where siegecraft was concerned. She should have poisoned every well. Then all the Yunkishmen would be drinking from the river. See how long their siege lasts then. That was what his lord father would have done, Tyrion did not doubt.

What's interesting though is that when considering how Tyrion tries to position himself and where he stands between Tywin and Dany, I don't think this is necessarily a reflection of what Tyrion thinks he himself would have done or what Daenerys should do. It’s not even really a good military strategy, just a ruthless one. I think this is really just another example of Tyrion trying to work through his father’s bullshit. As I said above, Tyrion has a pattern of both idolizing Tywin and criticizing him, sometimes at the same time, mimicking him in some ways but not being able to really follow through with imitating his father, and that's a good thing. Whether or not he will realize he is not a smaller version of Tywin, and can be much more, will remain to be seen. And I think this is also tied up with the big/small imagery often associated with Tyrion, which I think the character would approve of because he was %100 making that pun on purpose when he said he was Tywin "writ small." Many people interpret this to mean that Tyrion is Tywin’s copy, or double, but the specific wording of “writ small” not only is there for the pun and the metaphorical meaning, it’s also there to emphasize that Tyrion is a product of Tywin, not an exact copy but a smaller version. I’ve also written before about how the word “imp” has a medieval meaning of “sprig” or “shoot”, and how Tyrion is literally the offshoot of House Lannister, raised under Tywin’s long, black shadow, so that comparison seems fitting. By saying that he is Tywin “writ small” Tyrion is laying his claim as Tywin’s son and saying “I am what you made me.” It's Frankenstein's monster confronting his creator. It's an accusation, an indictment of everything that Tywin is. Not an endorsement.

Will Tyrion repeat the small-mindedness of his father, or will he, in the end, stand tall as a king?

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

"What Dean really needed was his father’s support when he had nothing, when he’d achieved nothing, when he was nothing but an ordinary kid who hadn’t saved the world and hadn’t gotten himself a single thing." It hurts to think about Dean. And your post nailed what I felt like Dean was feeling when John leaves. Yes, it hurts that he wont have all his blood family together. But it also hurts because he's mourning the "last illusion of his childhood." It is so bittersweet. :'(((

Yeah. After all, what does Dean get from John? That he tells them to look after each other instead of the old mantra for Dean to look after Sammy. Easy to say now, when they’re both grown, fully capable adults that reached the conclusion that they need to look after each other on their own, after many years of struggling with that concept because of the roles that John had drilled into their heads.

That he’s proud of him. Again, too late, too useless now. Sure, it’s still emotionally powerful for Dean to hear, but is it really received from Dean the way John intends? Let’s not forget how, just before dying, John gave Dean the ultimate contradictory (thus invalidating) message: he apologizes for what he’s put on his shoulders, and then adds the most terrible weight of all. Add the guilt of being the reason of John’s deal and sacrifice, and Dean is utterly broken. Dean knew John was possessed when he said he was proud of him. And he knew something was wrong, and it scared him, when John said that to him in the hospital. Now John’s approval arrives... when Dean is a grown man, about the things that Dean has achieved. Dean has stated he’s proud of him and Sam in 9x23. He has reached that on his own, and not in an easy way.

That John “had hoped” he’d get a normal life and a family, which subtly reads as John noting that Dean doesn’t have a normal life and a family, and I sense a bit of defiance (not overt, maybe not even really conscious) in Dean’s reply that he has a family. Dean is not interested in what John apparently had wanted for him - he’s a different idea of normalcy, of peace and of family than John has. Queer subtext abounds here. Subtle moment, but it’s there.

But yeah, I’ve been thinking about John’s approval for Dean and at the end of the day it’s always 3x10 that is plastered in my mind--

You are nothing. You’re as mindless and obedient as an attack dog. [...] No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That’s Dad’s. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad’s. Your music? Dad’s. Do you even have an original thought? No. No, all there is is, “Watch out for Sammy. Look out for your little brother, boy!” You can still hear your Dad’s voice in your head, can’t you? Clear as a bell. [...] I mean, think about it... all he ever did is train you, boss you around. But Sam... Sam he doted on. Sam, he loved. [...] Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy’s blunt little instrument. Your own father didn’t care whether you lived or died. Why should you?

(We haven’t really discussed it in recent years afaik, but the antagonist in 3x10 is a young man whose sleep disorder started when his abusive father hit him in the head with a bat, and whom Sam defeats by making his father appear in the dream so he freezes in fear, and then killing him with the bat. The show was never subtle in its mirrors to Dean and John. But I’m digressing.)

John tells Dean that he’s proud of him, but it’s too late to really matter. Dean doesn’t need it now. He’s achieved more than John could ever dream - he’s managed to get Mary back to life, even if it wasn’t exactly his intention, he’s managed to keep his relationship with Sam alive and solid through all kinds of obstacles, he’s got a house that contains more knowledge about the supernatural in a square meter than John has accumulated in a lifetime...

Does it count when your father who always made you feel like a disappointment gets taken to the future where you’re an adult with your own life and your own accomplishments and says he’s proud of you? Does it count when he never made you feel supported when you needed it, when you were a scared kid that desperately tried to prove to him that he was worth of his consideration?

I mean, this obviously isn’t stated outright by the text of the episode, but I believe that the symbolism of Dean letting John go back to the past, the way Dean is the one that accepts first that they have to revert the effect of the pearl, Dean saying he’s accepted the past the way it was and no longer harbors anger... it represents Dean acknowledging that the past is in the past (and it’s a coincidence I’m quoting Elsa but also not a coincidence, you know?) and that it belongs there. By getting John in the future, you don’t heal the trauma that happened in the past.

I don’t think they got catharsis or closure or whatever you want to call it by interacting with John (Dean and John don’t even talk about the past...), but through the fact that essentially, John’s comeback was just an occasion to live an old fantasy. By realizing that John just doesn’t have a place in their lives - emphasized by the reality-bending, of course, but that’s what that represents - and that at the end of the day he has made them who they are, but has no longer a hold on their lives.

Their lives belong to them, not to John. The episode, sure, didn’t make grand statements about the shittiness of John’s parenting, which has disappointed many, but when Dean says that their lives are theirs... it implies that John does not own their lives. Whatever abuse and trauma they experienced in the past does not own their lives. It has shaped them, yes. But not own them. I think that’s something important of Dean to realize and of the show to say.

[wendynerdwrites]

Guess who got a big chunk of writing done for the first time in months? This gal!

Okay, so here is a rough first chapter of a Metalocalypse fanfic, Dethcomics:

"Gentleman… It seems Dethklok is looking into joining the world of comic books. A call has gone out seeking artists and writers to create a Dethklok graphic novel."

"This could be catastrophic! Every new Dethklok industry venture manages to upset the balance of trade, but a band-sponsored book spreading their messages further?!"

"At least with their music no one can tell what Nathan Explosion is saying. But written in black and white?!"

"Exactly. To elaborate, I have called in expert in comics, Professor Varveil Molfirbygai."

The Professor, skinny and acne-ridden, comes forward, pushing his square-framed glasses up  the bridge of his nose. "Gentlemen, Dethklok have already rejected the proposals by Brian Posehn, Brian Piludo, and Grant Morrison for their books and are tearing through artists one at a time. At this rate, no one in the industry will be left but Rob Liefeld and Devin Grayson. Apparently their contradictory demands and unrealistic expectations have even been characterized by Alan Moore as 'too far out'. Marvel, DC, Image, and Dark Horse have all blacklisted them, leading to the band to launch their own independent publishing house. This could potentially upset the delicate balance of power within the industry. And God help us if the title is snatched up for screen adaptation by Sony or - ugh - Hulu."

"What can we do to nip this in the bud?"

"It seems that Nathan Explosion's new wife, Abigail Remeltindtdrinc and Charles Offdensen have taken a more direct role in monitoring the project. They may prove a stabilizing influence…"

~_~_~

"Ugh, Dildos!" William Murderface hurls his whiskey bottle to the corner of the game room. "These artsy-fartsy types are a bunch of egotistical, emotional dildos!"

"Ja, likes how obsessives and arrogants can yous gets?" Skwissgaar adds, shredding silently on his Gibson. "And sos delicate!"

Toki, leaning back from the Mortal Kombat machine, sniffs. "I's kinds of liked that Yoorerd Way fellows…"

"HE DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ROCK!" Nathan roars from the foosball table, engaging in a fierce battle with Pickles.

"Maybe we should just write it ourselves, y'know." Pickles suggests, "And get, I don't know… Toki, you draw things, right?"

Toki brightens. "I'S DO!"

Skisgaar scoffs, "All's he's draws is girly, fluffy tings like happy bunnies and womens withts de tits covered."

"Toki is even less metal than that Brenden Smalls douchebag! Heh, Brenden Smalls, what did he ever create for anyone?" Murderface adds.

"I cans draw brutal!"

"I'm sure you can, Toki, but I'm afraid that still isn't happening," a firm, female voice calls out.

The room falls silent as Charles and Abigail enter the room. 

"Guys, Abigail may have found someone to write and draw the book," Charles announces.

Abigail blanches slightly, somewhat uncomfortable. "Maybe, if I can convince her."

"Her?" Murderface asks, somehow sounding simultaneously dismissive and aroused. "We can't let ladies make stuff for us!"

Abigail cradles her temple. "See?" She says to Offdensen, "I told you!"

"Why would we wants chicks arounds us?" Skwisgaar asks.

"Guys, we already put out the announcement. You've blown through nearly every acclaimed graphic novel creator in the business. Fans are getting impatient. So if we can get Abigail's friend to do this for us, you will be on your best behavior!"

"Maybe we should give this chick a chance, you know?" Nathan offers, offering his wife a sympathetic look.

"Oh, you're only saying that because your lady suggested it!" Murderface howls, taking a new bottle of alcohol from a Klokateer with a tray. "You're totally whipped, Man!"

Abigail's eyes burn. She smarches over to the couch and yanks the bassist by the ear. He cries out.

"Listen, you talentless sack of piss, this whole project has been taking time away from recording. And you know how I feel about that. You're going to be a good little boy and do as I say, understand?!"

"YES, MA'AM!"

Abigail releases him, leans back, clears her throat, and smooths her blazer. "I apologize for that. I am… not feeling like myself lately. Like I said, I haven't even convinced my friend to do this, I am not even sure I can. But you can all be sure of her qualifications. Her name is Sofia Maldonado, she's been creating comics since she was fifteen. She has worked on titles like The Boys, Swamp Thing, Ms. Marvel, Deadpool, Nightwing, and Batman. She has her own book, The Emerald Pixie, that has been a hit with both critics and readers and has been nominated for four Eisner Awards, winning two."

The band looks at her as if she is speaking Chinese. She sighs.

" Uh, 'Emerald Pixie'?" Nathan inquires, "No offense, Honey, but that doesn't sound very metal."

"The Pixie has retractable ten inch fangs."

"Oh, uh, that's cool, I guess."

"I mean, it can't hurt, I guess." Pickles adds.

"Is she hot?" Murderface asks.

"Yeahs, is she hot?" Skwisgaar asks.

Abigail turns to Charles. "Why am I doing this again?"

Offdensen pats the producer on the arm. "Guys, please, that is irrelevant. And you will keep things professional, or I am cancelling your vacation to Pornfest this year, understand?"

"What?! Can you even do that?!" Pickles cries out.

"As per my new contract with the five of you, I most certainly can." 

The band all grumbles, except for Toki.

"Cans I's shows her my drawings?"

"I'm sure that will be fine."

Abigail sighs. "Look, guys, this woman is a friend of mine, she is good at what she does, and she does not put up with crap. I am going out on a limb for you with this. One wrong move and she bolts. Understand?"

They all grumble again, but answer in the affirmative.

"Excellent." Charles straightens his tie and clears his throat. "Abigail will call up Ms. Maldonado and see if she is willing."

~_~_~_~

"No."

"Just lis-"

"No, Abby, and also: No. Nope. Negative. Nuh-uh. Nein. Not happening. They've run through almost everyone. Do you know how fucked up you have to be to weird out Alan Moore?! The man worships a Roman Snake God, for fucks sake. I am not descending into that pit of testosterone and excess."

"I will keep them in line, I promise. I managed to get them through six albums in as many years. Now that I'm involved, it will be different, I promise."

"Didn't William Murderface once refer to women as 'Serpents with tits'? Abby, I have reached a point in my career where I am through putting up with shit like this. I have had to collaborate with Garth Ennis and Frank Miller. I even spent an entire hour of my life in the presence of Dave Sims. I have done my time."

Abigail groans. "Sof, Charles Offdensen is offering enough for you to put Eddie through preschool, K-12 private, college and grad school someday."

"Emerald Pixie is selling like crazy and Paramount and Universal have approached me for the rights."

"I'll get you an interview for Collegiate."

There's a long pause. 

"...Really? How?"

"I'm an alum, remember? And the Headmistress owes me, like, seven favors. Your son will be playing in the sandbox with the children of Governors and hedge fund owners.”

There’s another pause. Abigail smiles. For all that Sofia has gone on about hating capitalism and her passion for Leftist politics, since her son was born she’d grown a little hypocritical on that front. Not that Abby could blame her. Sofia didn’t have a lot of support, being a single mom. 

“Maybe I’ll consider a meaning.”

Abigail tries a different tactic. “Please do. To be honest, I could really use a friend around here at the moment.”

It’s not something she’d normally say, as independent as she is. But as she makes the statement, she realizes that it’s true. 

Sofia’s voice becomes gentler. “What’s up?” 

Abigail tells her.

Her friend takes a deep breath. “Okay, then. I’ll take the meeting. But I mean it, Abby, one shitty comment---”

“---I know. But hey, look, you’ve met Nathan, and he’s not so bad, right?”

Technically, Sofia had encountered the entire band to varying extents at the wedding. She’d really only spoken to Nathan, and stared, mouth agape, at Pickles’s bender and slurred Best Man’s toast.

“He’s not too bad, I guess. But the rest? Bunch of crazy gringos.”

“Toki is sweet. Pickles actually isn’t bad when he’s not blackout drunk. Skwisgaar can be decent, aside from the arrogance. And Murderface… Don’t worry, I’ll keep my boot to his neck. I’ll keep my boots to all of their necks. I swear. Please, Sof, do this for me.”

Sofia takes yet another deep breath. “Alright. I’ll be available in a couple of weeks. Book me a flight. And I want my Collegiate interview before then.”

“Done. Thank you so much.”

They say their good-byes. Abigail hangs up and leans back against the pillows of her bed, rubbing her temple. Nathan enters the bedroom, looking a little sheepish. 

“Look, uh, I had another talk with the guys. Murderface is in debt again, so I offered to pay it off, if you don’t, uh, mind. That should help keep him… you know… less Murderface.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and takes her hand. “Did she say yes?”

  “We have a single meeting in two weeks. I’m pretty sure I’m going to draw up a list with Charles about things they are not allowed to bring up.”

“You’re sure this is a good idea, right?”

Abigail smiles ruefully. “No, not at all. But it’s the only idea I have.”

“I hope the guys don’t, well, uh, you know…”

“Sofia talks a big game, but she’s tough and willing to put up with more than she lets on. She wouldn’t be where she is if it were otherwise. If we keep them reined in enough, I think we might make this work.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

“Hey, I’s remembers her!”

“Shut up, Toki! Don’t be weird!” Pickles snaps as they watch their prospective new artist drop her bags in the middle of the Mordhouse entry hall and look up at the gargantuan ceiling. 

She is tall and athletic, with bronzed skin, blue eyes, and dark brown hair. She wears boot-cut black pants, a red graphic tee, and a black jacket with pins on the lapel. The band all peers at her curiously as Abigail rushes forward to greet her, ask after her son, and re-introduce Charles.

Handshakes are exchanged, and Abigail ushers the band over.

“Sofia, you of course remember my husband Nathan. This is Pickles, the drummer. Skwisgaar Skwigelf, lead guitar.”

“Hi’s.” Skwisgaar offers, obviously trying not to stare at her tits.

“Toki Wartooth, rhythm guitar.”

“Hello’s artist-lady!” Toki bounces on his heels, clutching sheets of paper. “I’s have some drawings, I hopes you like them!” He thrusts them towards her.

The artist smiles kindly and takes them. “I’ll give them a look. Thank you, Mr. Wartooth.”

“Calls me Toki!”

“Thank you, Toki.”

“And finally, William Murderface, bass.”

“Greetings and salutations, Senoriiiiiita!” Murderface grabs the woman’s hand and presses a wet kiss to it before smirking up at her. “Ole.”

Sofia snatches her hand back and glances at Abigail, who glowers at the bassist. “Knock it off, Murderface, or I’ll have you neutered.”

He squeals and jumps back. “S-Sorry.”

"So's, tells me, comics-lady. Cans we's makes dis comic book a pops-ups book and can we's makes the pop-up dragons breathes fire?"

Sofia takes one look at Toki, then another at Abigail. "I'm so glad to be here!"