#I am TRYING to withhold my rant about how there is

[heyclickadee]

Six, “Magic is not respectable, sir.”

SOMEONE SAVE EMMA WINTERTOWNE

Okay but seriously. Emma’s entire life is a series of people putting their needs and wants, even if they’re things they want for her, ahead of her. She’s deathly ill, but her mother won’t take her to a doctor because the idea that Emma might be sick causes too much cognitive dissonance, so she ignores it. Sir Walter knows she’s deathly ill, and he actually quite likes her and wants to get to know her, but he also needs to marry her to save himself from financial ruin and to do that he needs to keep her mother happy for another week. Norrell is going to put his ambition ahead of her and bargain half her life away. The gentleman with the thistledown hair is going to be so invested in having her at his parties he’s not going to care of even notice that she’s miserable. No one is actually going to listen to her for about a decade from this point.

So. Venice. Not that. That city is ever going to come up again.

Lady Wintertowne’s entire monologue about Dreamditch is…interesting. The story is buried under a sickening load of classism—the way she talks about Dreamditch is shocking—and probably some bitterness and buried grief about the sister who died. She’s probably not that reliable of a narrator here in terms of even telling us what she thinks happened. And beneath all of that, I think we’ve got some indication that Dreamditch’s perception of what was going on was actually quite a bit closer to reality than hers—that there maybe really were some fairy spirits watching over the kids, that the kids did offend them, and that it’s maybe why the sister died or—knowing what we see later on with Arabella—didn’t die, but was maybe taken elsewhere instead.

“Poor Norrell! To be classed with the Dreamditches and Vinculuses of the world,” aaaaand there it is. It comes as a shock to Norrell, but the fact is that as a practical magician, he’s been thought of as on par with the begging street magicians—a novelty, someone to entertain, but ultimately beneath “respectable” society and occupying a place outside of it. That’s why Drawlight has been dragging him around to dinner parties—he (and his many acquaintances) don’t actually see him as any different than the street magician in Mrs. Littleworth’s story. They want to see him do tricks, and he ends up being accepted as long as he’s useful.

None of what I’ve been saying for these last few commentaries is really a defense of Norrell; Norrell is conceited and can be downright despicable at times. But the chapters where we do get more of Norrell’s point of view do give us a more complicated picture of the guy.

[bluberimufim]

IT'S TIME!!! IT'S FINALLY TIME FOR THE RANT ABOUT 19TH-CENTURY PORTUGUESE URBANISM!!!! (@kingkendrick7 mentioned they were interested a While ago and who am I to withhold information about my Interests)

I'll be focusing exclusively on the city of Porto in northern Portugal because it's what I studied in my Anthropology class. And also: disclaimer! I'm translating all the names of the things from Portuguese so if it sounds weird, yeah, that's why.

The Industrial Revolution in Portugal created a very weird relationship between work and personal life due to the way the cities were planned. Basically, the people who worked the factories, and even the owners, lived extremely close to their place of work - and I mean they were pretty much neighbours. The factories were also built in the city centre itself. This is much more similar to the work-life relationship of rural areas than any model existing in normal cities.

There was, at this time, a strange impasse when it came to building housing. Porto specifically is known for having extremely thin and deep plots of land in the oldest parts of the city - I'm talking 5 by 100m (approx. 16 by 328ft). No house is gonna be that deep, so there's always about 80 to 70m of backyard.

Workers were paid extremely low wages. Like, so low they couldn't afford housing anywhere. So the factory owners would ✨selflessly✨ give up their backyards and build housing for their workers.

Can we just take a moment to think about how absurd this is? Like. Imagine taking pity on your employees for being poor. My brother in Christ, WHO DO YOU THINK IS MAKING THEM POOR?

Anyway, this new type of housing is called an Island. Its name comes from the fact that it's an "island" of low-income housing in a semi-rich neighbourhood.

Basically, an Island is a long exterior corridor with tiny houses on one or two sides and communal bathrooms at the end. Here's a picture:

The way this worked is that the owners of the big, street-front house would open a passage on the ground floor that could be fully closed wuth a gate. This kept the Islands invisible and, thus, out of the city hall's jurisdiction, since they can only legislate on what is visible from street level.

Here's an irl picture of an Island today:

Btw they tried solving this problem bt building houses from scratch but they realuzed that workers' wages were so low that just adding plumbing would make a house unaffordable. Yeah...

Porto currently stands as the European city with the most recent outbreak of the Bubonic Plague, in 1899. This is because Islands had such poor hygenic conditions that it re-kindled the Black Plague epidemic. Just so you can kinda picture what level of "horrible" this whole thing is.

Here's a quote by David Moreira da Silva about the Islands that I translated from French:

"Housing, essential organ of the city, offers us in Porto obe of the most miserable and tragic displays and one of the grave causes that greatly contribute to the huge mortality that is constant. We say, justly, that Porto as a city is the vastest cemetery in Europe."

(Parallel to this there was also the "Sleep Business", which consisted of renting places to sleep. The main two were sub-renting, in which you rented a place to sleep and paid by the hour, and the Rope, in which you rented a piece of rope to lean on while sleeping. Thought it might be interesting to add.)

I'm not mentioning as we go because it'd be exhausting, but backlash was VERY strong every step of the way. Doctors were warning against living conditions in the Islands and city hall was trying to pass laws banning these types of buildings by extending their jurisdiction deeper into the city's plots of land. But they were unsuccessful.

They tried to propose a rehabilitation of the Islands in the early 20th century but their inhabitants basically responded with "Please tear our houses down and make us new ones somewhere else. The Islands are unsalvageable".

The whole factory work-life thing ended with the fascist dictatorship, which reorganized the city centre, but there's still plenty of people living in Islands today.

To this day, the Islands stand as a warning of what rampant capitalism does to people when left unchecked. But that doesn't stop tone-deaf bourgeois pricks from romanticizing them.

This has been a rant. I hope you enjoyed it <3

[zhoras-bitch]

I'd like to hear about your vendetta with TCH xD

I am so sorry for taking so long to answer! It’s completely on me, I’ve just been busy and I knew that once I went into the rant mode, it would take a while, so I had to put the ask away for a while. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, please, take a seat lmao.

Keep in mind I’ve only read 4 chapters of book 2 (I will finish it… eventually…), so this is all about book 1.

TL;DR I hate TCH for not being what I wish it was. It combines aspects that I love with aspects I vehemently despise, and it frustrates me endlessly. Kieran is fucked up in ways that are entirely uncompelling to me. Radiance is fucked up in ways that are extremely compelling to me, but they are not the main character. It would be easier if I could just tear TCH to shreds like the shitty books of the Choices library, but unfortunately… it’s an objectively a good piece of writing (I say, clenching my teeth so hard blood starts running down my chin).

The writing is so poetic. The soundtrack is perfect. Visually, the book fucks so hard. The secondary characters are fantastic. Leaf is the love of my life. The fae and the twisted fairy tale are some of my all time favourite tropes/aesthetics. I should adore this book. 

…Then there is the romance.

(OK this is the part where I go into the petty complaints. Please don’t come to me explaining how these things make sense narratively, I KNOW.)

Kieran and MC are every trope I hate in romance novels. Cold, brooding LI with anger management issues (which are considered sexy for some reason). MC, who is in every way inferior to LI dynamic-wise (as in peasant-prince, mortal-immortal, strong-weak etc.) Also that trope when being good and compassionate makes a character naive like a freaking five year old. That kink thing when LI is so tall and strong and MC is so small and weak and LI overwhelms them physically and that particular brand of ‘sexy’ violence they do in the ‘BDSM’ scenes. Withholding (or failing to communicate) information about their world that is crucial for MC’s survival, like ‘Hey btw MC, since you’re human, you should probably know that most fae are racist dipshits who treat humans like pets, brainwash them and force them to do their bidding with magic. FYI.’

And a bit more on the anger management issues thing (ugh, this is the hardest part to articulate but let’s try). The way Kieran is written — at least in the first half of the book or so — just didn’t make me feel for them. Them lashing out makes sense given their backstory, but it’s some combination of those reactions being so overblown and the way they themselves reacted to those outbursts afterwards (not trying to make things right or showing some indication of remorse or trying to do better) just rubbed me the wrong way. I just, don’t like when people use trauma to excuse being shitty towards others, and that’s what the narrative was kind of doing with Kieran to me. Like, I understand their curse took away their heart, but did it take away their ability to say ‘sorry’ too? Because I don’t remember that part. And of course they change for the better in the latter half of the book, but that initial irritation really spoiled the well for me, and I just can’t enjoy his character anymore. (I told you this is petty.)

Also, in a book full of gender non-conforming fae in flowing silks and glittery makeup, they force me to romance the most conventionally masculine, minimalistic black suit wearing tall and dark one that looks like 90% of the romantic fantasy LIs? Insulting (jk).

In contrast, Radiance checks all the boxes on the list of things I do like in fictional characters. (I mean, I love Aerin, so this should come as no surprise.) In the ’dark is not evil’/‘light is not good’ dichotomy, I am always more fascinated with the latter. The Sun Court’s ostentatious purity and nobility masking their true rotten, egotistical and manipulative nature drives me insane in the best way possible. And Radiance is the embodiment of all those qualities in a human form (with cute fluffy hair!). They are a manipulative, calculating, power hungry bitch in sheep’s clothing and they are so good at being that, which, hot? They are also a product of their fucked up upbringing, which promotes them from ‘there’s something wrong with them <3’ to ‘poor little meow meow’ levels of brainrot to me. They turned their sister into a bear for power. They also love her deeply. My point is, every time they are on screen, TCH is a 12/10 book for me. Then it cuts back to Kieran's bullshit and I'm forced to remember the book is not about them.

So that’s the gist of it, I think. Thanks for the ask! It took forever, but it was strangely vindicating to write out? Lol.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Oh Nalyra, I really want to emphasize with show Lestat, I really really do, but I can't help but strongly dislike him. Or maybe I just don't understand him. Especially after reading the last update of Laden (not that your writing made me dislike Lestat, you captured the complexity of situation wonderfully). Your writing is impeccable by the way. I am really enjoying Laden. But I digress. Even after reading numerous analyses from several blogs regarding the Antoinette relationship, I just don't understand why Lestat stays and puts himself and Louis through heartbreak repeatedly. Honestly, Louis is an absolute pain in the butt and I'm sure it is difficult to have a partner that is always the martyr, neglectful of your needs, critical of you, and a pessimist except when willing to overlook his daughter's bad deeds. Lestat is not perfect, but I can empathize for him seeking out an affair or even deciding to end the relationship with Louis. But if you need to rely on someone outside of the relationship that badly, why did Lestat stay? I think I'd respect him more for leaving with all the reasons of needing adoration, companionship, fun, or even variety. But was it not peak selfishness to stay knowing you are causing irreparable damage to your partner you love? Especially when he knows at this point Antoinette is no longer a game to Louis and she is causing some real problems like his disassociation and further depression? If Lestat needs her that badly, why not just be with her even if he doesn't love her? I don't understand him not letting go of Louis and choosing pain of the entire family. Even after Louis takes him back, he still argues to keep her. I don't think Antoinette is the true problem, she just makes me realize how selfish Lestat really is. And as a person that self admittedly was Lestat's biggest excuser the first time around, i'm admittedly struggling upon my rewatch to understand why he stays. He knows Louis won't leave him and he takes advantage of that fact as well with continuing to see her. Why wouldn't he just be the bigger person and go. Then when he is gone in episode 6, why not stay gone? When he does come back, why not change? I'm not understanding that part. Sorry for the incoherent rant!

No, it's okay, I do get it.:)

It's... difficult.

They are both fatally in love.

Fatally.

Such a heavy word for something that should be joyous? But it isn't for them, for long periods of time, because they cannot escape this feeling though they both try (in the books, too, and it takes a long while for them to get "there")

But they cannot. They simply cannot leave each other. Louis cannot leave even though Lestat isn't there. Lestat cannot leave though he is not welcome in his own house. (For example)

Antoinette is not the problem, not really, Antoinette is the symptom. She is a piece on the board of their games. (How apt, the chess games...) She is who Lestat wants Louis to kill, and who Louis refuses to kill. She is what Louis cannot be and what Lestat does not really want to have. She is what Louis would never want, and Lestat should want.

The Antoinette situation is not just about infidelity, it is about feeding, and killing, and jealousy, and possession. It's about being petty and stubborn, and bratty, and withholding, defiant and depressed.

It's a mess.

It's a mess they both cannot escape. And ... they don't really want to either.

Because, as you said - if they really wanted to leave the other - they just could have. They both could have.

PS: I am going to address that in the next chapters, too, so... maybe that will make more sense then there!! (I hope so! :))) Glad you like!!

[remcycl333]

Still can't believe how people came rushing into your inbox talking about how you should respect people's opinions and their stupid ass takes or getting angry at you for "withholding" and deleting limiting beliefs these anons had. WHERE'S THE COMMON SENSE.

Let me get this straight, Rem has ALWAYS had great takes and the anons she posts have as well, many people who are on her blog, follow her, interact with her, respect her, know that she doesn't post things that are bad, stupid or ignorant and you REALLY think that she'd just ignore a great outlook on the law because she has a difference in opinion 🙃

I've seen her literally talk about so many different opinions she has and others have and she's never once been bitter or mean about any opinions as long as they're respectful and not limiting beliefs, do you people not have the common sense to understand that someone who is so BIG on never posting or validating someone's limiting beliefs saying "I don't want to post this stupid take an anon sent in," MOST LIKELY means that the asks were all fucking STUPID!?!? Be fucking for real.

Idk why these people got me so mad but I'm so sorry for the rant, I just can't believe the audacity 🙃

���� thank you, i’ve always tried to be so respectful to everyone and i’m glad that someone has noticed! i am open to new ideas always but i’ve been practicing the law since the end of 2019, i know when someone’s take is just bullshit, even if they write long, fancy paragraphs to try to convince me. and like i said in a different post, these are chock full of limiting beliefs and ideas that would only harm the community! and i don’t want MY blog to perpetuate shit like that 🫶🏻

[boasamishipper]

#politics for ts#honestly? yeah#with the caveat that social media is not real life#and we just had an actual election proving that polls are BS and the Terminally Online are not the ones who vote#(not least since they don't vote)#the western left has utterly failed as a moral force at opposing fascism and genocide#not least since their stance is often 'fascism and genocide are Bad when the west does it but Good when anyone outside the West does it'#combined with an anti-voting rhetoric and a zero sum morality#wherein real people making complex and flawed choices is utterly unacceptable#so they go for simplistic black and white “i will withhold my vote to punish everyone not as Morally Correct On The Internet As Me” rhetoric#which as it is designed to do#only hurts the liberal-democratic political systems already fighting for their life against authoritarian theocracy#which is on the rise everywhere in the world#but any hint of nuance aside from Baby's First Communism is bootlicking centrist bad etc#once againn- i am not defending anything going on right now with either israel or america's response to it#but these chucklefucks insisting they won't ever vote for biden#and trying to convince others to do the same#are endangering both america and the world and the causes they claim to care about#environment war lgbt rights whatever you name it#by directly contributing to trump possibly winning again#which cannot be contemplated#it is disgusting how little has been learned from 2016 and the clear willingness to do it again for Ideology#regardless of the irreparable harm it will cause#especially with these junk candidates all jumping in#oh hey jill stein kind of hoped you were dead - same with no labels rfk jr cornel west dean phillips all these other motherfuckers#so i will not hesitate from denouncing this dangerous bullshit often and repeatedly every month until november 2024#or frankly more often#at any rate tag rant over time for bed (via @qqueenofhades)

sorry but i want to hit every american talking about not wanting to vote democrat anymore with hammers. lol

[dex-starr]

Swear to fucking god I know the justifications of my choice are like not bad but fuck dude I’m so miserable for doing what’s seemingly the right thing to do fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

I just am so tired of it why do I make what the “right” choices are if they just consistently fuck me over like this.

FUCK. IM SO MAD AT MYSELF

Literally I’m my worst enemy because I try not to take too much but I’m always told in some way or another by the universe that I’m asking for too much.

Patience from someone that loves me? Too big of an ask dude sorry nobody is going to have patience for as long as you need despite what’s told to you?

Patience and understanding for knowing something is wrong with you and there’s a lot you haven’t said because you don’t know how to say it without it looking bad or facing a judgement for it without you explaining things? Sorry dude we’re just going to pry into it further and make a fucking judgement even though it’s not anyone’s situation to fucking tell yet. Like it’s so fucked up bc the only times I pry into shit is if I think you’ve decided to not tell me something bc you think I did something wrong and are withholding from me. You know why? You know why I was so annoying about it? Because it was literally a remnant from an abusive relationship where that shit was common place. I always had to be the one begging to be told things and begging on what I did “wrong” even if it was just something small like not wanting to watch a TV show at the time bc I was busy. I literally adapted my whole schedule and life to them, just for a modicum of attention.

I was scared I was repeating the same patterns with you sometimes because of those outbursts but you know how I snapped myself of that thought process?

I gave myself to you willingly because I wanted to be with you, not because I needed someone. I fucking don’t I fucking don’t I fucking don’t leave me alone

I fucking hate that you’re the exception to the rule for me

Ugh I’m just ranting at this point but god I don’t have a target for this anger, frustration, sadness so fuck it I just need to let it out. I spent an entire year bottling it up and moping over you quietly. Only to come back and realize just how you could actually be and become sad at that idea bc I expected more from someone who said what you said to me

And not even saying that you had to be perfect at whatever, be as flawed as you are because that’s the person I cared about not some fucking perfected image. Not some saint or angel, even though I considered you that. I knew you were a hurt person just like me and I admired that you kept going. I admired you, probably sounds fucking dumb to you. But I did. In the ways that I approach the world you were able to see positives in somethings I couldn’t and negatives too. I never not once wanted to not pick your brain on things. You thought just bc I went to school and shit that I thought you were dumb and didn’t think highly of you?

Fucking bullshit dude I just blab a lot bc of this stupid ass adhd. Like I’m fucking blabbing now ahhhh

[qqueenofhades]

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

[cjoat-boost]

A rant from Seth:

In addition to Sam being mass tagged, despite explicitly saying to not do that.

…We get to starve today. Why? Lemme tell ya.

I’m Seth, Sam’s Protector and persecutor headmate in the AngelCrop System. Sam’s our host body.

To explain…Sam’s grandma is a piece of work, for sure. How she going to feel disrespected by Sam saying “Fuck” in front of her. Sam’s grandma trying to order Panera for Sam and her and Sam’s grandma’s paying for it, she’s the only one making ordering ahead difficult. So when Sam, understandably, cusses in frustration, Sam’s grandma demands an apology for cussing in front of her. I’ll sooner shove my boot up her ass. So Sam lets me confront, and I said, “I don’t owe you a got dang thing.” Which Sam doesn’t. We don’t either. “Fuck” Is a word.

Now Sam has to starve cuz Sam’s grandma up in her feelings about wanting an apology she won’t get or need. Sam deserves better. Why we all gotta walk on eggshells just for that nag to treat Sam any kinda way. I think the Fuck not. Sam’s grandma’s not going to make Sam lunch. anyway. Fine whatever. But she gone treat Sam how she wants to because she doing something nice for them??? Fuck that Shit!

Sam’s grandma is withholding food, knowing Sam blacks out when they don’t eat after a certain time periods. Knowing Sam is disabled (but don’t believe they Are), and knowingly manipulates Sam to guilt them into doing things that they can’t or barely can do depending on how they feel that day.

…But oh, Sam owes their Grandma an apology for saying “Fuck” In front of her.

…Sam had no way our money to get food, so they’re risking Blacking out due to not eating because grandma wanna withhold food and good deeds from them. This goes without saying, to prevent Sam from having a health emergency with frequent blackouts…send some cash so Sam can have something to eat in case this situation happens again.

An update on the situation from Cynthia:

To update, Sam got a refund from @iconografi (we love their jewelry I implore y’all to check them out, please), and was able to get a pizza that will last today, tomorrow, and maybe part of Saturday.

But Sam’s grandmother bought Sam Chinese food after withholding food from them as a temporary guilt thing, “There’s Chinese food if you want it.” We declined and ate pizza instead, and went into a d&d session, where Sam had fun. But the problem now is, our monthly check of $609, is gone. We have food for 2.5 days. Then we have nothing. We still are trying to move, Shipping costs are increasing. Sand Sam’s 24th birthday is coming up soon on the 10th…

It would mean so much if anyone bought from their shops, or if not, Donated to their cashapp or Venmo. Thank you so much.

https://www.mercari.com/u/315423945/?sv=lg

Some examples of what they sell…

I really need help..

TW: Vent

CW: plea for help

https://www.mercari.com/u/315423945?sv=0

I just really need the help right now…desperately.

Any reblogs are appreciated…

Thank you…

[storiesofsvu]

Fortuitous Reunion Ch 7

Rita Calhoun x reader Warnings: language, angst/hurt/comfort, minor anxiety attack.

Rita’s head shot up at the sound of your keys in the door, she wasn’t quite sure what was going on with you and obviously wanted to find out, hoping that she could help fix it. She moved toward you as you dumped you bag, hanging up your coat, quickly turning to her.

“Sweetheart…” her arms wrapped around you and you gave a wavering sigh as you sunk into her embrace, the warmth immediately bringing you some peace. You felt some of the anxiety begin to melt away as her hands rubbed at your back, her lips hit your head gently.

“Thank you.” You murmured, tugging away enough so you could kiss her. Rita’s hand cupped at your cheek while the other one passed you the waiting wine glass.

“You seem pretty frazzled darling…how unethical are we talking here?”

“Uhm…you mean lying to a patient in order to get another blood sample and then ordering an expensive and very unnecessary lab to test it against my own?” You quickly sucked back a large gulp of wine, honestly half embarrassed at your actions.

“Okay…I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that because you are definitely branching into the world of illegal.”

“I found my birth mother….”

“Oh?” You felt the anxiety bubbling up inside you again as everything began pouring out, the wine found a home on the island while you started to pace, your words tumbling out of your mouth.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m freaking out a bit. I mean, I thought she had some weird vendetta against me for who know’s what reason. I started thinking it had something to do with you, maybe you had history together, but it turns out it’s probably because she’s freaked her daughter’s marrying someone a mere five years younger than her. I mean, I knew she had me at fifteen so she wouldn’t be that old, but the whole warped way that she’s come into my life. It was a damn downward spiral, the moment she turned up in the E.R, the blood type, things started to make sense, I had to pry, I had to figure it out and now part of me’s almost wishing I didn’t know. How am I supposed to just go on in life knowing and having her around and what? Just pretend that I don’t know? I mean, I guess she managed to do it. Or do I admit I know? Do I try to get to know her? How does that even work? What’s her relationship to me when she’s my Mom but didn’t raise me, she doesn’t really know me.”

Rita’s hands grasped at your arms, stilling you in both your pacing and your ranting, your attention suddenly redirected to her.

“Darling…breathe…”

“I know…sorry…” you reached out for your wine, gulping back half the glass while you attempted to calm down.

“You said she was in the hospital, is Liv okay?” Rita’s question had you frozen, glass halfway back to the island.

“I never said anything about Olivia…”

Fuck.

You took a step back, removing yourself from her arms as realization swept over your face. The previous confusement replaced with a hint of betrayal.

“You knew?”

“I-“

“How long have you known?! How long did you let me think that she hated me? Have you been lying to me this entire time!?”

“I never once lied. I was simply withholding a piece of truthful information.”

“Oh don’t pull your lawyer bullshit on me Rita!” You stepped back closer to her, your emotions were all over the place right now and you didn’t have the patience to deal with her trying to weasel her way out of this discussion.

“I’m not trying to. I just need you to calm down, think rationally about this for a minute.”

“Think rationally?! I just found out my biological mom has been all over my life recently, hell she was at my engagement party and I was denied the privilege of even knowing that! How long were you keeping this from me?” Rita sighed heavily,

“A few days after proposing.”

“And what? She just up and told you because she was concerned about my choice of life partner?”

“No…” she pinched at the bridge of her nose, “I pressured her into telling me. I knew she was startled the first time she saw you and I thought maybe it had something to do with an old case. That there was something criminal related that you didn’t know about, I was just trying to protect you. Besides, you’d never said anything about wanting to meet your birth parents before.”

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t curious!” Taking a shaky breath you pushed your hair back, “I know I was lucky as hell to have the upbringing I did, but there’s always a part of my brain that wonders why she gave me up. And the bigger part of why she decided to stop visiting! Like what, I turn two and suddenly I’m too old for you? Why up and leave out of nowhere? I get it, she was young, but she at least used to love me, even if it was only a sliver of her heart, I was still in it. How do you just stop caring about somebody like that?”

Rita felt her heart absolutely crumbling as she watched you break in front of her. She’d never once seen you like this and she wasn’t entirely sure what she was supposed to do.

“Sweetheart…” stepping toward you she hesitantly reached out, giving your hand a soft squeeze, “I’m sure that’s not what happened.”

“Oh God…” the tears were fully starting, “I feel like I can’t breathe.” Pushing past her you scooped up your coat and bag, pulling the door open.

“Y/n!” You felt Rita’s hands around you, vaguely feeling the way you roughly shoved her off you.

“I need some air!” You practically bolted to the stairwell, the door falling shut behind you as you hurried down the stairs.

Rita’s shoulders slumped at the sight of you practically running away from her. She knew she was at fault here, at least partially, she should’ve tried to reason with Benson, get her to talk to you instead of just being distant. She wanted to go after you, but knew there would be no good in that, the last thing she wanted was to upset you even more. You had your phone, it wasn’t even dark out yet, you’d be fine, and hopefully be back before she realized.

Even more so she hated that over the last couple of months, your relationship had been under a pile of stress, she’d attempted to bury it with affection but everything just came blowing back up in her face. Ever since she’d given you the ring, things were fine for a couple of days, and then it became a world of secret keeping and avoidance that lead to the events today. The two of you rarely fought, and when you did it was usually only small bickering matches, and you certainly had never ran out of the house like that. She swore, if she lost you because of Olivia Benson she would never let the woman live it down.

*

You weren’t even sure how long it had been, but you were aware of the skies beginning to darken around the city as you meandered through the park. Originally you really had just been having some form of anxiety attack, just being outside and in the slightly chilled air helped you calm down. You absentmindedly wandered down to the park, eager to burn off the pent up energy vibrating just under your skin. Eventually you found home on a bench, watching the water while your brain tried to process everything that happened in the last twelve hours.

You definitely weren’t totally sure how you’d ended up where you were, but for once you just followed your instincts and your gut, leaving your brain out of it for once. After all, wasn’t that what you’d done earlier? You timidly reached out a hand, knocking on the apartment door, suddenly feeling like you were ten years old again.

“Y/N? I…didn’t realize nurses made follow up home visits.” Olivia half teased, okay, you were at least somewhat headed in the right direction. “How did you even find out where I lived?”

“Let’s just say I’ve done a number of frowned upon things today and figured why quit while I’m ahead? But maybe let’s not talk about that because I’m suddenly remembering you’re a cop.”

“Is…everything okay?”

“No. And I got into it with Rita and that’s really not helping.”

“Over a case?”

“Not exactly….” She noticed the red of your eyes, the way you were wrapped around yourself and half avoiding her eyes.

“Did..you want to come in?”

“Please.”

“Have a seat.” She gestured to the couch before locking the door, briefly pit stopping in the kitchen, handing you a glass of wine as she settled into the arm chair perpendicular to you.

“Thanks.” You muttered, taking a sip. “I’m sorry for showing up here like this, I just…wasn’t sure what else to do…”

“Okay?”

“I know…” your eyes flicked up to hers, watering with tears.

“Rita told you?”

“No.” You took a heavy breath, “though that’s why we got into it. But…something just clicked at the hospital. Dr Klassen had me pull your medical history, I saw an admitting form with the same date that I was born and I just had to know. You can deny it all you want but the DNA doesn’t lie.”

“That would be the unethical part? There was no lab mess up?”

“No..” you wiped at a stray tear, “those vials are basically indestructible. Sorry..for, invading your privacy and all.”

“Wanna talk immoral I once ran my DNA through the system to see if I had any other relatives and ended up tracking down a half brother. So, I think we’re even on that front.” You let out a watery laugh, at least you knew she wasn’t going to go full cop on you for breaking the rules.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Olivia felt her heart quicken, knowing the types of questions you must have.

“I know you were only fifteen…and that neither of us would be where we are in life if you hadn’t given me up..but..why…why did you stop visiting? Did you…not want me at all anymore?”

“Oh sweetheart…” her own eyes began to fill with the tears she thought she might have been able to hold back, “I wanted to keep you. I really did. I fought tooth and nail with my Mother over it. A Counsellor at the clinic was the one that helped me realize how much work it would be, and my Mother…wasn’t exactly present, I’d have no support. They suggested open adoption as the best option so that I would still get to see you grow up, and that I’d know you had a good life, a far better one than I could have ever given you.”

“Okay…”

“When you were born I almost took it all back, getting to see you, hold you for the first time. It destroyed me having to hand you off to people I’d known less than eight months.”

“But you used to visit..when I was a baby?”

“I adored every second I got to spend with you. And then it started to tear me apart, having to leave you behind, knowing that you’d potentially grow up thinking I was your Aunt or something. I wanted a baby more than anything, and have ever since. I wanted to be the one raising you, not just watching you grow up from afar. My Mother was already drinking so heavily, watching her granddaughter being raised by other people was too much for her too, she went off the deep end, I was nearly flunking out of school. After talking with your parents we decided that it was best for everyone if I stopped visiting, they sent a few pictures, letters, over the years but that was the only contact.”

“So it wasn’t that you never loved me?”

Olivia couldn’t help it, call it a maternal instinct, say it was her years of working with fragile victims but she wasn’t about to let her own flesh and blood cry without comforting her. Swiftly moving beside you on the couch she wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a hug, her body relaxing at the embrace of actually hugging you for the first time in years.

“No…not at all. If anything it was that I loved you too much and I knew it was just going to get worse.” You sniffed, feeling her hand brush away a few tears, “when you walked into my squad room my heart just about stopped. I was so worried you were a victim, then I briefly thought you might be the girl Carisi was seeing,” you couldn’t help but snort over that one, “then I was just confused.” You gently pulled out of the hug, pulling your leg under you so you were properly facing her.

“Are…you…okay with me being with Rita?”

“I have zero problem with you being gay if that’s what you mean.”

“And the age difference?” You winced.

“I have no say in who you love, or who you marry. Even if I raised you, you’re an adult, and I trust you to make your own choices. While Rita has thrown me a fair share of surprises this year, I know how much she cares about you. Seeing the two of you together at the engagement party? You’re completely enamoured by each other, and you’re going to continue to make each other incredibly happy, I know it.”

“Thanks.” You sighed, wiping the last of the tears from your cheek. “Where…do we go from here? I mean, it appears we can’t completely keep out of each other’s lives, but…I can steer clear from the precinct, hand off patients to someone else?”

“Oh, no! Honestly we all prefer when it’s you and Sophie, you actually have more of an understanding of how to deal with it. And…we can figure things out. I never meant to come across like I didn’t like you, I just didn’t know how to approach the entire thing.”

“Just waited for me to commit a few HIPPA violations to figure it out.” You joked.

“Okay, let’s not go there. Besides, you’ve got the best defence attorney in the country at your side.”

“True.” You smiled weakly, “uhm…I would really like to get to know you, if…you’re okay with that?”

“I would really like that.” She smiled back at you, and honestly, you felt your heart warm, knowing that she wanted to know you, unlike the complete opposite of what you had thought.

“Okay.”

“We can grab coffee next week?” Her hand reached out to the side table, picking up a business card, “my cell’s on the back. But now…I think you should get home because I know there is a very worried fiancée waiting for you.”

“Oh! Fuck.” Your hand shot to your pocket, and sure enough there were a few missed calls from Rita, “I didn’t even realize how long I’ve been gone, shit.” Olivia laughed softly as you both rose from the couch, moving back over to the door. “Thank you.” You smiled, and easily accepted the soft hug that she bid you goodbye with, not missing the call for you to get home safe.

Flagging down a cab, you were thankful to be home within twenty minutes, hating that you’d kept Rita waiting so long already, time had simply slipped by without you even noticing. You weren’t surprised to find her on the couch, her head shooting back at the sound of the door opening, half of you was a little surprised she wasn’t working though.

She quickly moved though the room to you and you fell into each other’s arms in a tight warm hug, the love wrapping around the two of you while you murmured apologies to each other, the previous words of the day fading away completely. You forgave her for not mentioning it, knowing that Liv was the one that asked her to do so. She wasn’t aiming to hurt you, she was just aiming to keep a friend’s trust, and you could value that. Rita curled you against her on the couch, kissing your head softly while the two of you polished off the bottle of wine from earlier, she listened to you get out your emotions, talking over the conversation you’d had with Olivia, and how you hoped things would begin to move forward positively. She admired the way the two of you were working things out, and reassured you that she loved you no matter what happened.

After all, that was all that mattered.

[nimbus-tatze]

Ok this will be a somewhat depressive rant but

I cannot stress enough how illogically insane the current public conversations surrounding agriculture and especially animal agriculture are.

I'd go apeshit if I could, bc internet searches and manipulative documentaries are not and never will hold up against the environmentally-and-socially-traumatizing stuff that we have to gruesomly study and write in an academic setting, all the while being made to feel responsible for it bc this is our field. We have the data pretty much shoved down our throats and my study material is 65%-75% statistics and graphs and charts and I really miss reading blocks of texts some weeks.

unlike some gloriously dense folks trying to eradicate entire fields of agriculture bc they made up shit and believed it, we have to read through dozens of reports calculating the brutal starvation of millions and the further destruction of the environment if our field doesn't scrape together crumbles of miracle after miracle

I am, quite frankly, a bit envious of my old self

It was so much easier to pretend that the primary struggle of agricultural engineering was scientific hurdles and not

1) a lack of funding

2) the lack of tools to judicially strike those that withhold money they can give away so so easily for measures desperately needed

3) sheer human idiocy wrapped up in a weird brand of genuine compassion that totally misses the mark

There are people loudly posting about what direction agriculture has to globally take (such as 'let's eradicate animal agriculture') bc they think that'll fix everything, but in my head, like four, five calculations later, I can fuzzily make out famines and massive degredation of entire regions and I'm just...

i'm so tired man

i'm so so tired

Dude I just wish it was depleting resources and climate change we had to worry about and not a handful of self-absorbed humans, ya know, like these aren't things I want but they are at least somewhat easier to deal with than whatever this is

I just really really want internet personas to stay tf out of the agricultural sciences

[luna-rainbow]

Seeing Bucky interacting with other people outside of Steve and Sam has really hammered it home how few interactions we've actually seen him have with other people. His interactions with Okoye and Sharon in particular were great, and it makes me bitter that pretty much all of Bucky's meaningful social connections seem to have to come through Sam or Steve and the ones that they did let him forge on his own (Yori and Leah) ended up crashing and burning. It almost suggests that Bucky is incapable of making bonds with people if he doesn't have Steve or Sam to hold his hand or lowkey force people to hang out with him until they like him.

Thanks for the ask!

Before I start on my tangent, I just want to reiterate how bitter I am over TFATWS ruining Bucky's relationship with Ayo and Shuri and the Wakandans (including T'Challa).

My rant today is about Yori. Not whether Bucky's apology to Yori was appropriate because that is a rant for another day, but rather the significance of Yori being Japanese and what that means for their relationship.

Obviously I'm generalising here, but...maybe the best analogy is the stiff upper lip British. Japanese culture is built around being stoic to a fault. Older folks, especially, tend to internalise their emotions, because there is a strong expectation that you "don't inconvenience others" (by sharing your pain).

Our first introduction to Yori is Bucky having to coax this irascible old man out to lunch. It's quickly established that he is antisocial and distrusting and with no patience for frivolity.

But he trusts Bucky. He treats Bucky - a youngish white man, already unusual for an immigrant of his age - like a son by setting him up for a date. While a lot of Asian aunties love doing this, this is not common Asian uncle behaviour unless they really feel they need to meddle in your personal affairs (again rare unless they care about you!!)

(GIF @capswilson) Look at the way he does this. He even holds the entire conversation for Bucky - this is an Asian father who is so fed up with his adopted son's social awkwardness he's basically rolled up his sleeves and done all the hard work for him. All this from a guy who didn't seem to care about building relationships with his neighbours, caring enough about Bucky to try and build one for him.

But most tellingly, he talks to Bucky about his son. This is a place of grief and angst that no stranger can resolve, the sort of emotional burden that would be considered impolite to share with a mere acquaintance, but Yori launches into it with no hesitation (in Japanese, no less) and with his emotions bared. For someone who comes from a culture that emphasises withholding "unpleasant" emotions from outsiders, this means his relationship with Bucky is a lot closer than just two random guys at a bar.

I don't think the writers thought this deep, but there are specific nuances to Yori being Japanese that made this scene so poignant. Firstly, there is something very deeply embedded in Asian culture about the anguish of losing an adult child. Secondly, here was a surly old man who had a very obvious soft spot for Bucky. He not only allowed himself to depend a little on Bucky for emotional support, he was also treating Bucky like an adopted child - with as much tenderness as Asian uncles allow themselves to show (very little).

For me, their final scene broke my heart more for Yori than it did for Bucky. The lonely grandpa almost saw Bucky as an adopted son, yet here he was with his sad blue eyes confessing he had killed Yori’s real son.

And at this pivotal moment between a father taking up anger, a friend choosing forgiveness, or a lonely old man crumbling under what life has dealt him a second time — the scriptwriter bailed on them both.

[sityoursiredassdown]

Nobody asked for this rant and I rarely comment on the acotar fandom but it still amazes me that people don’t seem to get they very real running theme of people aren’t perfect that Sarah has put into just about every book she writes. It was a problem I saw in the ToG fandom as well but I’m paying attention to Acotar because a lot of familiar (and new) drama has stirred up with Acosf being out. 

Probably gonna ramble so if you’re as tired as I am hit the “read more.” Also, spoilers, obviously. 

Morality in Characters

Characters being named problematic or irredeemable for something or another is a long running issue in multiple fandoms across a variety of media. That’s its whole separate issue, but one thing that drew me to SJM’s books in the first place was how willing she is to let characters make mistakes. To let themselves believe they are in the right even if we, the readers, know they’re not. 

She lets them justify their anger, lust, panic, doubt, longing, the scope of human emotions. She lets them be right but she also lets them, most often, be incredibly wrong about an emotional situation they are in. She lets them hit rock fucking bottom. But most of all she lets them change their mind, lets them gain a new perspective or move on from something that had felt so important fifty chapters before. And it is an incredibly realistic journey of being human (I know they’re all fae but you get what I mean.)

Any book written by Sarah is going to feature characters that have flaws, some changeable some that are ingrained in them--no person alive is created without personality traits that can never quite shake, can only try to work on, or suffer the consequences from their mistakes. 

Rhysand and Nesta are big examples in the Acotar series. 

Rhysand can be manipulative and scheming, withholding information and thinking he knows what’s best because he’s the smartest person in the room. 

Nesta can be as cold as ice, petty, and downright cruel with her words alone, lashing out and biting like a rabig dog for trying to get close.  

People in different sides of the fandom will lash out at either for these respective traits, citing the mistakes and problematic behavior each character has exhibited in the various books as reason. And I, by no means, am saying that we need to condone the different things various characters have done. The mistake is believing that’s ALL they are. 

Rhysand is also incredibly loyal, generous, thoughtful, and caring to not only his family but to essentially anyone he comes across when not in High Lord Mode.

Nesta is also fiercely protective, brave, insightful, and capable of being incredibly selfless when she cares, when something truly matters. 

The good and bad traits exist in both characters, as they exist in all characters because that’s how people work. Their bad traits lead to mistakes that we can criticize for what they are without condemning the character on a whole, because that is not all they are. And whether there is fallout/forgiveness with other characters makes sense because these are all people intricately connected with their own thoughts and feelings and reactions to situations. 

Which brings me to: 

Nesta vs. Feyre

This, by far, continues to be one of the most aggravating parts of the fandom. Nesta is a naturally divisive character, one I’ve always loved. Because, as stated above, I can find issue with how she treats those around her but also understand that it comes from a place of trauma. The whole point of Acosf is for her to go on that journey and explore why she is the way she is and the journey she takes, it was never going to be solved in the trilogy or the novella. 

While I don’t think Feyre is perfect (that’s the point, none of them are) it does rankle me that parts of the fandom read the trilogy, went on that journey with her, and decided she had become some entitled snob that didn’t deserve to be in the books anymore because she got fed up with how Nesta was acting. The inner circle also was treated similarly. 

In Acosf, there are certainly scenes where Nesta isn’t trusted or respected by members of the inner circle, and at that point we can say they’re in the wrong because we were on Nesta’s journey with her. But trust, understanding, often takes time to rebuild/gain when its been broken and Nesta had certainly been burning bridges back in Frost and Starlight.  

Nesta and Feyre have both suffered trauma, and the thing about trauma is everyone handles it differently. A reason it took Nesta much longer to get help and go on that journey to self love is because she continuously fought against and pushed away the people that reached out to her. Feyre, while wary of Rhysand and the inner circle as they took her in, was more willing to open up. 

Nesta being criticized by other characters for her self-destructive behavior doesn’t mean they don’t care about her or are terrible people. She was never going to go on that journey of self-love and personal growth we all wanted her to have, without a push. The point in the storytelling is to fray those dynamics so they can be rebuilt stronger and from a healthier foundation because Nesta finally loves herself. 

Despite how different they are and the way they’ve clashed, Feyre and Nesta love each other. Because by the end of Acosf, they’ve truly seen and accepted each other as complex people, good and bad. Yet we as fandoms so often seem to think if there’s bad, there can be no good. 

Change

Circling back around to the overall morality of the characters, their mistakes and flaws, one thing SJM has always shown in her books is change. That people and what they want are constantly changing and evolving. 

Characters can be in love, look like they’re meant to be....until they’re not. 

A Character can have a goal, a reasoning, a desire so strong that it feels like they couldn’t want anything else...until they realize it’s not what they needed at all. 

SJM has always let this build across her stories, always goes through her characters emotions and reasonings for this change rather than telling us to accept it. 

The one time I think she erred in this was Morrigan’s sexuality and the sub sequential dismantling of the Morrigan/Azriel ship that had felt so certain in Acomaf. I will clarify. I have no issue with Mor being queer and only mean that the reveal was used as a plot device/twist. 

And of course, that shifted into quite a bit of debate about Lucien/Elain/Azriel, which has rebirthed with Acosf and the special Azriel chapter (I will say I have not read the chapter, didn’t get that copy, but lord I’ve seen the metas.)

Change is a big theme in SJM’s books, especially with ships. She is not afraid to jump around more than once, but most often, the endgame love story feels right. Of course not everyone may agree with this, but that’s always where I ended up after finishing her various books. And of course, everyone is free to ship what isn’t endgame to their heart’s content. 

My final point of this long winded rant is, these characters across these books are messy, complex individuals. Sometimes they have unhealthy behavior, say or do terrible things, and have thoughts that are going to lead to self-destruction. But that’s what makes them vibrant and real, because they can never be perfect. We can love these characters without it meaning we condone whatever it is they do. 

And if you’re this far into a SJM series and haven’t realized that these journeys and these people are never going to be simple and clean-cut for some idealized standard you have, then you may have picked up the wrong book.    

P.S. If you have read all this just so you can try to tell me whatever stan camp you’re in is the only correct one; you’re getting blocked. 

[buntycake]

Hey I really liked your writing so I decided to send in a prompt. What do you think the brothers would only reveal about themselves to MC after a long time of dating? Maybe a different side of their personalities or an embarrassing interest? Thank you for the hard work 💕

I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you enjoy this headcanon.

What the Brothers Reveal to You After Dating You for a Long Time

 Pride:

Lucifer never seems to struggle. True, he has his fits of irritation as he tries to run Devildom while bringing Diavolo’s machinations to fruition. Even so, to an outsider he always seems to have a plan Z for everything.

The first time you saw him in a less than orderly state was when he called you to his office during one of his all-nighters. It was three in the morning and he had asked you to bring him a coffee spiked with poison. (This would have been alarming to you if you hadn't lived in Devildom for quite some time.)

Hunched over his desk and surrounded by paperwork, he looked exhausted. He didn’t even take the time to save his coffee like usual. It was gone in one gulp. When you asked what was keeping him up so late, he told you about Lord Diavolo's new idea. It had him ripping hair out he tried to figured out how to implement it.

Though he tried to shoo you away, you sat with him until 6 am, when he finally called it quits. This became a semiregular occurrence. (You talked him out of his all-nighters when you could.) Just your presence is enough to make the process of figuring out the impossible better.

When you're more settled in your relationship, he'll start asking for your advice and help. It's hard to believe that someone as persnickety as Lucifer would allow someone to do a job that he could do better, but he trusts you.

It's not always about work either. The conversations you two have about his relationship with his brothers are when Lucifer seems the most vulnerable. He wants to be close with them, but struggles. You are one of the few people he allows to know that.

 Greed:

Mammon being completely serious is still an uncommon occurrence in your relationship. He has his more reserved moments, sure, but not bouncing off the walls is not the same as having that solemn, focused look in his eyes.

There are really two occasions when this side of him comes out. One, when he's in DEEP trouble with the witches. You'll know that his debt with the witches has become serious when he's pacing the length of his room and muttering a string of numbers and calculations you can't follow.

Two, when he's trying to comfort someone, most often you. (After all, his brothers aren’t the type to admit when they’re feeling down.) There was once you had gotten to ruminating about the past. Those memories had whirl winded into something ugly. All your past regrets and embarrassments built up and weighed down on you until you began to cry.

Luckily or unluckily, Mammon came barging into your room at that time. He was ranting about some new opportunity for making money. In your melancholy daze, it was hard to remember. You must have looked awful because the switch was immediate.

Mammon gathered you in his arms and rubbed your back until you calmed down enough to talk. At first, he seemed agitated since he thought one of the brothers had done something to upset you. However, as you explained what happened he settled down. He was silent as you spoke and his eyes never left your face as if he was trying to gather up your every word and reaction.

Mammon is surprisingly insightful when he wants to be. What he said to you after your rant was thoughtful and wise – completely unlike his typical persona. You knew the typical fun-loving demon had returned when he said, "Anyway, forget about all that stuff. You have the Great Mammon looking out for you now."

 Envy:

Levi is extremely capable. Being an otaku shut-in, it's an aspect of him that isn't immediately apparent and that you've probably only seen glimpses of.

Levi's ability to keep up with all things otaku, while perhaps not impressive to anyone outside of the anime community, is a testament to his persistence. And no matter what normies think, Levi isn't without ambition.

It's actually a little while into your relationship that he brings up an old goal of his: creating an otaku podcast. He was timid as he began to explain his vision to you, but about an hour in it was clear that he knew EXACTLY what he wanted to do. He just needed a little nudge.

After many reassures, some words of affirmation, and a pretty drawn out planning session, he got to work. For the next couple of months, he was busy - completely hyper focused on this goal.

He reached out to some smaller creators in the otaku community to find others interested in making a podcast. The two of you went searching for a place and some equipment to rent out. There were many late nights with just the two of you drafting up some beginning podcast topics.

Levi was a nervous mess before the first recording. You sat in on the first one just to be a calming presence, but in the end, you don’t think he needed it. He had a BLAST.  Everyone seemed to play off each other so well.

When the podcast came out, it was a modest success. Those that liked it were begging for more. He was practically vibrating from excitement and overflowing with new ideas after that.

Levi undoubtedly did most of the leg work, but he'll insist to his last breath that it was all because of your support. To him, he can jump any hurdle with you by his side.

 Wrath:

Satan is disgustingly romantic. For all the rage he can store in his body, honeyed words and sweet sentiments take their place there, too. Blame it on all the romance books he's read over the millenniums.

This aspect of him was probably the clearest during your dates, where he’ll take you to some unknown, but beautiful place. Even as you take in the environmental or astronomical wonders that Devildom offers, his eyes can’t seem to part from your form. It’s as if your existence is even more surreal.

This sentiment bleeds into your daily life the longer you're together. Most notably when you start finding small notes everywhere.

In the morning you found a note on your dresser, scrawled in his neat cursive. It read, “Your smile is as refreshing as the morning dew.” The smile in question appeared on your lips and you could almost see Satan’s amused smile in your mind.

Another note that said, “Your curiosity is something to be admired and feared,” had you giggling in the middle of RAD’s hallways. You got a few odd stares for that.

Surprise, surprise, there were more in your backpack, textbooks, around your room, everywhere. Each contained a small snapshot of his feelings about you.

At the end of the day, you found him tucked away in the library with a book like usual. When you asked him why he hid all those notes, he simply said, "So, that you would have at least one happy moment each day.”

 Lust:

Asmo takes pride in his appearance, but more than that, fashion and beauty are a defensive mechanism. If he looks less than perfect, then there might be merit in what people say about him. They might have good reason to hate or resent him.

When he's at his most beautiful, he can pass those reactions off as people being envious of his perfection. It may seem like a small thing, but it's a privilege to see him before all the primping and preening.

So, when you woke up after one of your rendezvouses and found him still in bed, you were surprised. Usually, he was already up and about, wrapped in one of his silk robes.

He always looked like he woke up fashionably messy. Hair that was perfectly mussed, robe that was draped lazily over his shoulders, and eyes that seemed dewy with sleep, but the smell of bathing oils and perfume always gave away his morning preparations.

Seeing him with bedhead, rubbing at his bleary eyes, and yawning out morning breath was surreal. You thought you were dreaming until he pulled you closer and nuzzled into your chest. His lack of pretense went unmentioned for cuddles and an extra thirty minutes of sleep.

Every time he does this, know that he's choosing to be vulnerable with you. And perhaps more importantly, that he's opening himself up to your criticisms. Ones that he can't/won't deflect and will take to heart.

 Gluttony:

Beel is rarely angry. As the peacemaker of the brothers, he's often the one pacifying the others. It doesn't leave him much room to express his own anger.

More than that, Beel doesn't like to hold grudges. It makes him feel guilty. There's already so much animosity among his brothers already; he doesn’t want to add to it.

You were really worried the first time he came to vent to you. He had entered your room a bit solemnly and gathered you into his arms. Then, he’d asked your permission to disclose something to you.

At first, you thought he was sad. Beel had commonly shared moments where he felt sad or upset, but this quiet simmering anger was new to you.

He started off quietly. It was lucky his mouth was right by your ear or else you'd have never heard what he was muttering. The whole rant started off with him confessing how frustrated he was with Lucifer for still withholding information and not leaning on the brothers for help.

As you nodded and encouraged him to go on, he got more confident. The conversation drifted away from Lucifer, to his qualms with the rest of the brothers. All of them for condescending his intelligence on a daily basis, Mammon for always going through everyone’s things, Asmo for constantly stealing his cake, and so on.

Beel had completely cooled off by the end of his rant and was a tad bit embarrassed. However, as he gets more comfortable venting, he'll let you know about small things that irritated him that day. It becomes like a daily confessional ritual between the two of you.

 Sloth:

Belphie is notably cynical. However, this gets toned down by his aloof, sleepy persona. As adorable and soft as he is, he harbors numerous negative opinions of the world.

He doesn't trust easily and often expects the worst of people - demons, humans, angels, it doesn't matter. To his credit, when he isn’t blinded by his temper, he’s often right in his assessments. However, for Beel's sake, he typically suppresses this response.

With you, he feels he can air out his grievances. The first of these occurrences happened after a post-nap in the attic. The two of you were curled around each other and he began to let his woes slip out into the space between the two of you.

He talked about everything from his brothers to the exchange program to even his reservations about you. The dichotomy of Belphie cuddled into you, surrounded by a mountain of pillows while lamenting the woes of the world was frankly jarring. But when he finished, he seemed to sink deeper into your embrace like a weight had lifted off his shoulders.

As he continues to talk to you about all his less than optimistic views, they become a sort of philosophical debate between the two of you. There’s something satisfying about throwing each other’s ideals around and deconstructing them. More appealing to Belphie is that the two of you can have these conversations without judging each other (too much) or forcing your morals down the other’s throat.

[courtlyharlequin]

Hey!! I was wondering if i can have a candied rose frappuccino with floyd please. Thanks 😊

Sugar Addict

Warning(s): mild spice, lowkey spicy ending

A/N: I went feral. What is plot? I ended up writing more than expected. Also, I was too lazy to proofread so I apologize for my horrible grammar. Feel free to correct me! I should probably get a beta reader... 

Context: This is an AU. Yes, a coffeeshop AU, but some things are different. These characters are aged up and NRC is actually a college.

It was unexplainable, this feeling. Twilight. The sun was setting. Traffic ensued streets as people poured out of work and into their vehicles, all with one destination: home. But for you, home was the last place you wanted to go. You were a student who did not need to fret over something like a job. You had the convenience of asking for a ride or traveling by foot to reach local destinations not far from your oh so prestigious school. At this moment, at twilight, you were experiencing the convenience of the latter. Well, a normal person would not call it a convenience. These days made taking a stroll an absurd pastime. But right now, it was both a convenience and a pastime. The roads were clogged by a massive sea of cars. Your nose crinkled at the stench of gasoline. Choosing to traverse by foot was more pragmatic. You were in a rush as well. Your destination might close any minute now!

From the inside of any of the vehicles on the street, you were akin to a hooligan. A scrambling, mad hooligan. Not only were you running in the opposite direction of where these cars were going, you were also running as your life depended on it. Therefore, you were a crazy person who was running into the city suburbs at a somewhat late hour rather than going home. Mothers in said vehicles shook their heads in dismay, praying their children were safe at home. But, you could not care any less. Night Raven College’s headmaster was very lenient on curfews and was susceptible to bribery if all else fails. But to be fair, your destination was not something to be frowned upon. It was something to laugh at, really. The place you were so desperate to get to was none other than a café.

More specifically, Café Rosé . Cheesy, chessy, yes, you were aware. The café was notorious for their supposed love potion of a latte, but you weren’t coming for that. You wanted to try their Candied Rose Frappuccino. You were a lover of all sweets; You could never live with yourself if you didn’t try it. Of course, this coffee shop was not going anywhere nor was this beverage a limited one. You simply were in the mood for it. It was craving, a whim, a last minute decision.

You sighed heavily, leaning against the café’s exterior walls. With one deep breath, you pushed the rose-tinted glass door open. The chime signaled your entrance. You braced yourself for a  barista to question your hazed, flushed state… but it never came. Still heaving, you scanned the shop. You made your way to the counter to check for employees in the back room.

Thud!

“Hey, Shrimpy! Café’s closed,” a voice glowered.

You spun your heel, making eye contact with a barista with a disheveled appearance– his aquamarine hair was slightly unkempt, his tie was unraveled and dangled loosely around his neck, dress shirt unbuttoned down to the point where his collar bone was exposed with his sleeves rolled up which furthermore accentuated his lean yet muscular figure. It was all too much to take in. He put his weight onto the nearest table. Ah, the thud came from a chair he just stacked… but nevermind that-!! The moment he moved into that position, he exposed a bit of his cleavage. Hot damn he might be lean at first glance, but he was built like a Greek god. This should be illegal! A barista should not be dressing– let alone be looking– like that. Everyone would suffer from a cardiac arrest from such a heartthrob! You quickly averted your attention to the café’s schedule.

“The business hours sign says you guys close at seven. It’s six fifty-two right now,” you said, holding up your phone.

“Close enough. Get lost.”

He walked over to you suavely, leaning over you and against the door frame to flip the open-closed sign over so that it’s closed side faced the streets. It was meant to be a gesture of mockery and intimidation, but holy hell… you were flustered more than anything. He was tall from afar but up close he was huge!! You even got a better look at his chest. Well defined, if you don’t say so yourself. Wait–

You shoved him back, “Not even for a to-go order?”

“Nope. Don’t feel like it.”

“But you’re not closed yet!”

“But I don’t wanna,” he whined.

“Why?”

“What?”

“I asked you ‘why’?”

“Can’t you just come back tomorrow and let me call it a day? I’m tired.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I ran all the way here just to get something–”

“Should’ve done it earlier,” he shrugged, returning to his chore.

“Okay. Fine. Is there anyone else here to serve me? Since you’re too ‘tired’?”

“Sorry, Shrimpy, but they all went home.”

“Ugh! Don’t call me something that makes us seem so familiar. I’m not that short anyway...” you huffed.

He snickered, walking behind the register, “Alright then, Shr-im-p-y~! What would you like to order that you just had to come in at the last minute today?”

While you were relieved he gave into serving you a drink, the way he enunciated your unwanted nickname was irksome.

“I’ll have one Candied Rose Frappuccino.”

“Oh thank god it isn’t that latte.”

“You mean the Rosé Latte?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, loudly tapping on the cash register, “Everyone has been flocking here and only ordering that. I’m so tired of making the same order everyday.”

“Sorry, I’m not into hot beverages. Just a person who likes sweets.”

“Cute,” he cooed, handing you your receipt.

You watched as he messily wrote “Shrimpy” onto your cup.

“Can I get your name?” you asked.

“My name?”

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

“Somehow you’re slowly becoming my favorite barista.”

Partially a lie, partially the truth. He was your favorite because he was so fine. You only wanted his name in case you ever decided to write a review on your bitter first meeting with him or if you came across the manager. Petty, yes, but it annoyed you that much.

“Floyd, Floyd Leech,” he grinned.

You checked the receipt and sat down at the barstools in front of the barista’s worktable, watching him intently as he began to work on your order. Well, half your attention was actually on his hand movements. Your mind was having an internal battle about how shameful you were to fantasize about his back muscles, mentally undressing him. The fact that there were only you two in the coffeehouse did not help either. The silence, at its surface, was calming, but, at its core, it was awkward. With the occasional clinks of utensils and the sound of coffee being brewed and blended into a frappuccino,  the lack of noise left your mind to wander.

“Just because he’s good looking does not make up for the fact that he was rude,” you chided yourself.

Floyd cocked his head: “Hey. What are you staring at?”  

He looked behind him as if there was actually something of interest. You saw your drink in his hand. He held it close to his chest, withholding it, waiting for your answer.

“Oh? Um.. nothing? I was just zoning out. I’m tired from running all the way here.”

“Shrimpy’s no fun,” he pouted.

“My name is (y/n), not Shrimpy.”

“You’re short, jumpy, and huggable like a shrimp~”

“I am not that short!”

“Oh-!!! You remind me of Goldfish. You both get so mad for some reason,” he laughed.

“Listen here–”

The barista took a swig of your order. He didn’t take the dome-shaped lid out. He didn’t even drink it with a straw. He just… straight up… put his lips on the lid and drank the contents from the rim. You halted your rant, appalled by his audacity.

“You talk too much, Shrimpy.”

In this total silence, someone, if there were someone here, would have heard your sanity and patience snapped.

“Listen here, Floyd Leech. That was awfully rude of you. Actually, from the beginning, you were so rude! From getting into my personal bubble to calling me names when I told you to stop. And now you drink my order? And right in front of me too?! So, so, rude-!!! I just–”

“Wow. What an expansive vocabulary you have,” he glared, twiddling with the collar of his shirt and somehow exposing more of his collarbone.

You leaned over the counter, reaching for your beverage, heat traveling up your cheeks, “I’m not done yet! Just because you’re hot does not mean you can dress like that and automatically get a free pass to do these things! Do you have any idea how distracting that was?? Now–wHAAA!!”

You pounced at him. Your toes hung on the edge of the barstool, your left arm wrapped around Floyd’s neck, and your right arm stretched out in an attempt to reach the drink in Floyd’s hand. Much to your annoyance, he raised it higher than you could ever hope to reach. If he took anymore steps back, you would most likely flop onto the barista’s side of the table face-first. With the drink in his left hand, his weight (and yours) was shifted onto his right arm which conveniently propped itself against the countertop behind him. You wondered what people on the road thought when they saw what was going on inside the café.

It was early evening with a decent amount of cars on the street before the storefront. Nearly twenty minutes since you came into the café and here you are– without your order, curfew approaching steadily, and no sign of getting your frappuccino anytime soon. Instead, you were sprawled across the counter, a test of your flexibility and modesty.

“I didn’t really think Shrimpy was this bold, this naughty,” Floyd chuckled.

Ah shit. Your anger got the best of you. Your verbal filter was removed and all of your thoughts slipped past your conscious and common sense. His sly grin did not help at all. Your close proximity enhanced your blush. The way you clung onto him caused his shirt to slide off his left shoulder and with the position you were in, you had a front seat to all his glory. What a sticky wicket this was.

“I just wanted something sweet to drink,” you panted, fisting his shirt in your petite palms, frustration washing over you.

You were on the verge of tears. Floyd sighed, lowering the cup just a bit, and took a few steps back as he carefully let you slide onto the barista’s side of the counter. However, your beverage was still out of reach.

“You’re such a snowflake,” he mumbled.

You clung to him, still, using him as leverage to reach your order, “Am not. This wouldn’t have happened if you just let me have my coffee!”

“You mean this hell of a sugary confection??”

“Yes? I mean I wouldn’t know because I haven’t even tried it yet,” you grunted, jumping at it like a fish trying to catch the bait.

“Oi, (y/n), can I kiss you?”

That was the first time he used your actual name instead of “Shrimpy” ever since you met. You would rejoice, but the following words were out of the question. His tone made it sound more like a demand than a request of consent.

“Excuse me?!”

“You wanted to try the drink right?”

“Yes, but it’s right there in your hand! So if you would just let me have it, I’ll stop annoying you!”

“The taste is lingering in my mouth. It’s so sweet. I wanna get rid of it…”

“Get some water.”

He squeezed his right arm around your waist, bringing you closer to his face,  “But I want to kiss you~!”

“Well, since you drank out of it, if you let me have it, then we can have an indirect kiss!”

The temperature of the coffee shop was just unbearable at this point. And worst of all, this was self-inflicted. You didn’t have to tolerate him. Frankly, you should have left the moment he told you the café was “closed”.  You didn’t have to pounce on him and end up in this painstakingly uncomfortable position either. Moreover, you were sweating from embarrassment from your suggestion. An indirect kiss! That was such a childish thing to fret about and here you were, regretting your own words.

“That’s no fun,” Floyd said, taking another sip of your frappuccino.

“Hey–mmpff!!”

Despite how he manhandled you thus far, he kissed you very tenderly. His lips were soft, warm even. As much as you wanted to push him back and scold him for taking away something as precious as your first kiss, you couldn't. Everything just… felt right. Your grip on his shirt loosened. Before, you held them in your palms in anger, a way of intimidation, a sign to show him that you weren’t going to back down even if he was teasing you with no mercy. But now, you held Floyd’s collar to close the space between you two. You were this close to each other, but it wasn’t close enough.

You gasped as he nibbled your lip. Floyd took it upon himself to invite his tongue over to your wet cavern. A sugary substance flooded your taste buds. Ah… he never swallowed your drink.... Not that it mattered. You gulped it in one breath, continuing on with your tango of tongues. If Floyd wasn’t supporting your waist, you might’ve melted away into this temporary bliss. You momentarily broke away from him to catch your breath. The distance between you two was barely five centimeters. He growled lowly, taking two steps forward, pushing you towards the bar. He smashed his lips against yours, a clear sign for you not to do that again. A fire lit in his eyes. Floyd hungrily bit your bottom lip, earning a whimper in response.  Without breaking away from your mouth, only turning his head to take you at a different angle, he hoisted you up and set you and the beverage down on the countertop. Now, with both hands free, he cupped your cheeks. You responded by wrapping your legs around his waist and grabbing his wrists, drawing away his hands.

“W-Wait…” you exhaled.

“...did you not like that?” he cocked his head.

“No... No… I liked it… I liked it a lot… I just… S-Slow down…”

Floyd reached for the ends of your hair, twirling with the strand, “Take your time…”

Perhaps it was purely the heat of the moment or lust, but you judged him too soon. In this brief period of time, he was being considerate of you.  He traced your figure with his eyes, grinning from ear to ear at your bruised lips, bright pink from the dozens of kisses he gave you. You were just as disheveled as he was.

“...More..”

“You sure?”

“I’m thirsty,” you pouted.

Floyd let out a chortle before sipping your coffee, “Alright, then Shrimpy.”

You prepared yourself for yet another rough session. Before he took your lips, he smoothed back his hair, revealing his forehead. The gesture caught you off guard thus you stiffened as he brushed his lips against yours. By gods, it was as if he wasn't even trying to be provocative. Was it possible for someone to be this seductive without actual effort? At this rate, you were going to miss curfew..

“Floyd…” you moaned, intertwining your fingers with his as he pushed you down onto the counter.

“I’ll be gentle, don’t worry...”

“Floyd… No… T-There’s people watching-!!!”

“So?”

“Does that not bother you?!”

“Not when they’ll know you’re mine~”

You sat up, “I’m a bit too shy for that. A-And I would like for my first time to be private…”

You left the last part trail off in embarrassment, fiddling with his necktie which somehow managed to stay on his person despite everything that just happened.

“Oh? Is Shrimpy a virgin?” he teased.

“So what if I am?!”

“Nothing. Just thought a cute Night Raven College girl like you wouldn’t be since you were really good~”

He earned himself a playful smack on the shoulder to which he responded with a sarcastically scoff. This was so unfair...

“How did you know that I went there?”

“Hmm must be because of the shirt you’re wearing underneath that hoodie,” he said, feigning innocence.

Oh. He’s the perceptive type. You didn’t think much of his ministrations (other than them being tantalizing). It seemed that he took note of every detail about you. At this point, you were crimson as a tomato.

“Also, because I go there as well,” he snickered.

You smacked his shoulder once more.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“Different years, probably.”

“Maybe..”

“Also, I’m always stuck at the Mostro Lounge so you can find me there,” he winked.

“Ahhh! Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Giving me two answers and mixed signals.”

Floyd tilted your head upwards and pecked your lips, holding you as if you were a figure of glass: “What about this is mixed?”

“You were terribly rude before… and you probably just want someone to bed with for the night,” you puffed your cheeks.

How your body was betraying you… Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and the fervor was not going to dissipate anytime soon.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time, (y/n).”

He raised your hand and pressed a chaste kiss on each individual knuckle.

Oh god. Your heart couldn’t bear it anymore. The way your name rolled off the tip of his tongue made honey taste like summer– hot, overwhelming, but still something to look forward to.

“Since when?” you exhaled.

“Since your first visit to the Lounge.”

He switched to your other hand, continuing the ritual.

“I’ve only been there once.”

“You were such a cute Shrimpy that I couldn’t forget about you~”

“That can’t be right–”

“You just have to accept it!”

“It doesn’t make up for how you treated me before.”

He placed your hands on his cheek, “Sorry, Shrimpy. The scent you released was too irresistible.”

Instinctively, you sniffed your clothes, “I don’t smell anything.”

“It might be just an eel thing*, then. But just so you know, I’ve been trying to find you for a while now. I’m so happy that I did. You’re mine now, Shrimpy. Your smell is intoxicating,” he cooed, leaning closer to your ear, “It makes me go feral~”

You squealed at his sudden remark, unable to regain your composure. Your words melted into gibberish and murmurs as you buried your face into his chest once more.

“You’re such a creep,” you whined.

“You don’t mean that~”

“I don’t…”

“We should get going before curfew though. Help me clean up, will ya?”

“Okay.”

Floyd planted a kiss on your forehead, “Thank you, Shrimpy.”

That nickname wasn’t as obnoxious as it was before, huh.

“I’ll reward you once we get to my room,” he snickered over his shoulder as he left for the back room.

Wait– WHAT?!?!?

“H-Hold on-!!”

“Relax, Shrimpy, ’m not gonna do anything to you… not yet, anyway. I’m just sayin’ in case we don’t make it before curfew.  Azul needs me for Mostro Lounge tomorrow, he has no choice, but to let me in. If anyone can convince the headmaster, it’s probably him,” he gave you a thumbs up.

“Good to know. But… I’ve been meaning to ask about Mostro Lounge and this café. If you work for Azul then why work here too?”

“He doesn’t pay me. I’m just helping out of obligation.”

“What? How come?”

“He’s my friend?”

“You sound unsure.”

“You made it sound like I’m gullible,” he laughed, stacking the last of the chairs.

“Well? Shall we go, Shrimpy?”

You took his hand without hesitation. This feeling– it was addicting. You only knew him for a less than a day, but it felt right. It felt meant to be... as if you were soulmates. 

Bonus:

“Oya? Floyd, what happened to your back? There’s scratches all over it. Are you alright?”

“ s’nothin’, Jade. I just… had a fun night~”

“Please. You and (y/n) were so loud. Please reserve those kinds of activities for somewhere more private– not a dormitory with thin walls,” Azul chided.

His brother’s eyes widened, but he didn’t question it any further. Jade curtly closed his gym locker and headed out towards the field.

Azul followed in suit with a huff. 

* Note: Female moray eels release an odor in order to attract males to mate with them

[loki-darkprince-odinson]

King Loki, I apologize for the rant but I would like some advice.

My father always makes me feel like complete garbage. He is always putting me down, never appreciates me, and makes my depression so much worse. I'm fixing up a house to move in with my friends but I'm still stuck at the house since my parents won't help me get my license or a car, much less a job. I cook, do dishes, take care of the pets, take out the trash, get the mail, do my laundry, wash towels, and help with their laundry. I also take care of my sick mother and while I'm currently on summer break, I'm going to college to become a clinical psychologist. Even then, my father will point out other things that I don't do, and expects me to clean the entire house every day. He always talks about how he needs to do everything around the house yet all he does is sleep, play video games, and watch television. He also says he works hard yet on many occasions he says he sits on his ass all day on his tablet. He also yells so much. I get scared every day when he starts yelling because I worry he may leave us, which he has threatened before, or he may actually hit us. He never has hit either my mother or I yet, and says he never would but he slams and throws things when angry at us so it's his way of showing us how much he wants to hit us, even if he doesn't realize it. However, not only do I have many responsibilities, My depression makes it difficult for me to do much, and he makes it worse. Even when I do try to clean the house he always makes comments such as: "About time." or "How long until it gets cleaned next time?" or "This was half assed, you didn't do it right." I have tried so hard to have a connection with him but I'm so tired of fighting for a relationship that he doesn't care about. I can't address my concerns with him because he will threaten to not take me to college and pay the bills. Do you have any advice to help me deal with my father until I can escape?

Best regards, Catrina.

“Catrina,” Loki drawls, in his smooth resonate voice. “I firstly must commend your good work. For caring for your ill mother, minding the household needs, and that you get up in the morning even if your soul is weary and your bones ache for a rest; that you keep on living even if you do not know how to anymore. Secondly, you have my deepest sympathies for your grievances. I am all too familiar with what it is like to seek the approval of a parent; only for there to be none in return.” His eyes were completely unfocused, yet his pallid features bore the most intense concentration as memories flowed unbidden.

He says nothing for a moment. Then, something in the edge of his mouth—and the corner of his eyes—resembled the ghost of a sad smile.

“Those whom I knew and called my mother and father are dead. That much is beyond dispute. They were not my real parents, but they raised me as their own. I daresay they loved me. That had been in dispute, at least in my own mind for awhile. I found out very late that my identity was a lie. Not Asgardian, not a son of Odin, I was completely unmade. That was how I felt when I learned of my true parentage. I was a fraud, a monster; it explained so much. It explained why I never felt like I fit in, why I would never be my brother's equal, why I would never get what I'd been promised my whole life.” His voice was soft, hoarse. Intent.

Loki raises his left hand and rests his forefinger against his lips as a line forms between his own eyebrows in thought.

“I have lingered around Midgard long enough to come to an understanding of how your minds tick. I shall do my best to give advice where I can.

Try, if you will, to put things into perspective. The most loving parents commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force one to destroy the person they really are: a subtle kind of murder. Even the most loving parents damage their children with the best intentions—to protect them, to guide them, to better them. In most cases, it would appear they do it by imprinting their own fears and prejudices on them.

The point is, parents are mere, imperfect people.

They have flaws, struggles and impaired judgement. They have both emotional and intellectual handicaps. Regardless of their parental role, they are afflicted by personal blockages and limitations.

But most of all, they are people who make mistakes, and who are terrified of being judged by their children.

Learn to see your difficult parent as just that; human. Learn to see their emotional immaturity as a type of disability.

With that in mind, you would do well to keep your expectations of them low.

In many ways the effect a difficult parent has on ones self is fueled by their feelings of injustice and the belief that things could be different, or ought to be different.

In other words, your expectations dictate how you feel.

You need to let go of your expectations and accept your parent for who they are.

You cannot expect someone with, say, a narcissistic personality, to act with empathy and kindness. No more than you can expect a scorpion not to sting.

Difficult parents are much easier to deal with when you accept that they will not change. So do not expect of them more than they are capable of, and you will not be disappointed or hurt.

Do not fall into the illusion of guilt, Catrina.” He warns. “A difficult parent loves nothing more than to make you feel like you’ve hurt them. Or, in a different scenario, like you’re a bad person if you do not do something they ask.

Do not fall for it. If they’re setting a guilt trap, calmly tell them that you do not appreciate being emotionally manipulated, and you will not tolerate it anymore.

Manipulators, and I should know, detest being called out on their dirty tricks.

If they continue to harass you, reiterate that you cannot do what they’re asking you to do this time, and you need them to respect that.

The trick is agreeing with everything they’re saying (how can they argue when you agree with them?) and re-stating your decision over and over again.

Now this part I find to be… far more easier said than done. You must let go of the need for your father's approval, Catrina. It goes without saying that every child needs and wants their parents’ approval. It is normal to want it, and it is normal to receive it.

Yet so many have to accept the fact that this is not going to happen. For whatever reason, their parent has chosen to withhold their approval. Some difficult parents do it as a form of punishment. While others hope to influence their child in the “right” direction.

Most likely, your father loves you, but they have a very warped idea of what parental love is.

In their misguided quest to make you into a version of themselves, they missed the chance to get to know you. And so they cannot appreciate you for the wonderful being that you are.”

He shrugs elegantly. “It is their loss. When you realize this and let go of the need for their approval, you will be able to start living your life in a whole new way.

When confronting your father, be direct and calm without expecting a specific response. That is the part you cannot control. The part that is within your control is letting your thoughts and feelings known, which is empowering.

Stick to the facts and use “I” statements such as, “I feel like my words do not matter to you when you constantly interrupt me” or “I feel scared and misunderstood when you yell at me”

Remember that manipulative parents are not known for their empathy. They will try to confuse you, go on the offensive, or assume the role of a victim.

Do not allow them to bully you into submission by invoking guilt or pity. State your case in a calm and polite manner, and stay cool regardless of their response.

Your goal is to be honest about your feelings, and to make it clear that you will not tolerate certain behaviors.” He softly clears his throat.

“Last but not least, an unhappy alternative is forgoing the relationship that is too harmful. I know, a parent is not someone you can so easily cut out of your life. But if all else fails and your father continues to cause you psychological harm, then this may very well need to be taken into considerable consideration; at least for the foreseeable future. Sometimes it is the only logical recourse.

A parent that is fundamentally incapable of showing love and support, unable to see the error of their ways after numerous attempts to communicate how their behavior or words affect you, consistently dismissive, demeaning or critical, manipulative in a habitual manner, punishing and cruel whenever you disobey, are disrespectful of your boundaries and using threats and intimidation to get what they want is a destructive force that will continue to tear you down until you put a stop to it.

It is not an easy feat, my dear. The parent-child bond is hardwired into the brain, which means children get attached to even the most awful of parents.

But consider the cost of having that toxic relationship in your life—stress breeds anxiety, depression, internalized feelings of inadequacy, and failed personal relationships.

I wish you all the best, Catrina. I truly do.”