#I mean yeah most people would have English to avoid being beaten up/killed

[niamhthefae]

you know what would've been really fun? if like how the dracas speak Norwegian, and the vamalia speak German, the Lycana had irish as their first language. I know it would've probably been "too much effort" or something to find native speakers either as the actors or to provide things for the script. but i would've loved to hear ivy and seymore speaking in gaeilge, even just turning up and saying "dia dhuit" instead of "hey" or muttering things others can't hear under their breath and them even implying that they were speaking irish would be been so fun.

especially since this is the late 1800s but it's been implied that they were around for a while so they would've been born to gaeilge speaking families,but probably forced to speak English while the english were over causing trouble in ireland. so we can still have them beleivably speaking english on the ship but speaking irish in private.

they probably won't do this if they make another season,but I really want them to

[soulmate-game]

Part 1

After the Discovery, things didn’t change as much as everyone thought they might. “Everyone” being just Marinette, of course.

She got a lecture from Lois about worrying her, and then a joke from the older woman about no longer having another non-hero in the house to team up with.

“Wait, Dad,” Jon spoke up after that comment from his mom, bobbing up and down on his heels. Both him and Clark had long since changed out of their costumes, which didn’t take long considering both of them having super speed. “Does this mean Mari can meet Damian? And is she going to join a hero team—“

“I already have a team, Jon,” Marinette interrupted, soft but firm at the same time. Two months was more than long enough to know that Jon could talk forever if he was allowed to. “Chat Noir, Viperion, Bunnyx, and Ryuuko are all Miraculous users like me,” she had already sat down and explained the bare basics of her abilities and the Paris situation. Lois had known better than to scold her, no matter how gentle the scolding was, before Marinette had a chance to say anything.

Clark blinked, looking between both of his kids. And yes, Marinette was well and truly one of his kids already. He couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. “She can meet Damian when school starts back up again, Jon. We don’t want to rush anything,” he started out by telling his son. Marinette was still very jittery. Two months was nowhere near enough time to recover from the trauma of watching your parents die, after all.

(In fact, Clark thought, for some people not even a lifetime was long enough. Batman briefly came to mind as an example.)

The girl still had nightmares almost daily, and panic attacks that resulted in brief spans of mutism at least once a week. Those, at least, had severely decreased in frequency, but it was clear that she was far from ready to meet very many new people. Especially people like Damian Wayne, who was hard enough for someone in perfect mental health to handle even on a good day.

“And Marinette,” Clark switched over to his pseudo-daughter. “If you have that many teammates, surely they would understand that you need a break,” when Marinette didn’t meet his eyes, Clark felt dread build up in his stomach. “Marinette, they know about your parents, right?”

The girl fidgeted. Clark closed his eyes.

“Nobody knows my identity,” She admitted after a tense silence. “I know everyone else’s, even though I only found out Chat’s by accident. But they don’t know mine, and I can’t ask them to give me time off anyway.”

“Why not, honey?” Lois asked as gently as she could, picking up on the beginning signs of Marinette closing herself off. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything any of them could do to stop it. Marinette refused to meet any of their eyes, and even before she spoke her new family knew that they wouldn’t get anything else meaningful out of her about the Paris situation, at least for the day.

“They need me.”

Clark and Jon traded a look. That statement felt a bit too familiar for them. It was something they heard from a lot of heroes who tried to justify overworking themselves. It was something both of them had said before.

But they let the topic rest for the night. Pushing Marinette wouldn’t do any good for anybody.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed. Lois and Clark were sitting on the couch watching TV when Lois caught her husband’s eyes darting up to the ceiling. Sighing, she turned the volume down a few notches.

“Did she leave for Paris again?” She asked even though she already knew the answer. Clark nodded grimly.

“Yesterday she didn’t get back in until almost four in the morning,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “And now, it’s already eleven and she’s just now heading out. I know she doesn’t want me or Jon going to Paris because of Hawkmoth’s magic, but…” he trailed off with his mouth set in a deep frown. Lois could only sigh and lean against his arm comfortingly.

“I know,” she breathed quietly.

“She can’t keep working herself to the bone like this, Lois. Sometimes she’ll head right over to Paris after a nightmare, like she needs to remind herself of something, but she always comes back in less than an hour in that case. But this— when she leaves to fight HawkMoth or patrol Paris before ever going to sleep in the first place— it’s like she’s trying to avoid the nightmares by overworking herself too much to even dream.”

“I know,” Lois rubbed a hand on Clark’s back in gentle circles.

“It reminds me of Batman sometimes,” Clark said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic defeat. “Marinette doesn’t get violent like Bruce, but… never sleeping, throwing herself into heroism, she even refers to Ladybug as if they are different people, Lois. I can’t always help Bruce since he’s a grown adult and more than capable of shutting me out when he wants to, but Marinette is our kid now. I’m just not sure how to help her.”

Lois took a deep breath. “Well, she’s not Bruce so you can’t just bait her into a spar to sort out her feelings,” she mused with faint humor. “But how about we start with sending Jon to Paris the next time you guys hear her leave? The sooner we figure out exactly what the situation and her relationship with her team is like, then maybe the sooner we can find some answers.”

Clark nodded, and looked back up to the ceiling. “I know you heard that, Jon. Don’t get in the way, and come back if Marinette finds you and tells you to. We don’t want her to think we don’t trust her.”

A beat passed, and Clark rolled his eyes fondly.

“Don’t forget to go to bed as soon as she gets back, Jon. I don’t want to deal with two overly exhausted children.”

A thump.

“I’m sixteen!” Jon yelled back, clearly for Lois’s benefit as his mom let out a short burst of laughter.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ladybug!”

“Look, it’s Ladybug!” “Woo! Go ladybug!” “Could you beat this guy extra fast, Ladybug? I’m late for a meeting!”

People in the streets were shouting in French happily, pointing up at their resident spotted heroine. Some people groused at her in mild or fond annoyance, asking her to beat the Akuma-of-the-day a bit faster for various reasons or jokingly calling her a slow poke. Most people just got pictures or videos on their phones of her as best as they could, watching her swing by in awe and admiration.

It was familiar. Too, too familiar, and Jon made sure to get it all on camera. His parents would want to see this. The pair of contacts he was wearing, a gift from Red Robin, translated everything that was being said for him into helpful little English subtitles.

And there was his sister. Marinette had been tough to pin down, and this was Jon’s third time trying to follow her in Paris. The first time, the day after that late night discussion between his parents, ended in less than five minutes. Marinette caught him and sent him home firmly, which was followed by a heart-to-heart with all four of them when she got home.

She still refused to tell them anything more than the basics about Paris’s situation. For some reason, she seemed extremely reluctant to talk about it. She had no problem comparing experiences and hero jokes with him and his dad, but the moment they tried to talk about Paris-specifics, Marinette clammed up.

It was the second of Jon’s attempts to follow Marinette, just a week after the first, that brought up a possible reason. Because Jon had watched a civilian that he hadn’t been able to get to in time get pinned under a thrown car and killed—only for Ladybug’s powers to reverse all the damage and bring the man back to life.

Jon had raced back home right after that, not even giving Marinette the chance to see him. After relaying what had happened to his parents, they all agreed to one last tail. The pieces were already falling together, and none of them liked the picture they were painting. They wanted to confront Marinette as soon as possible. So here he was, another week later.

Jon kept recording throughout the fight, watching as Marinette clearly led her team. There was no mistaking that all her teammates respected her and treated her word as law. Even Chat Noir, who was Ladybug’s deputy, always referred to Ladybug’s opinion before issuing any orders. Civilians didn’t always flee the scene, taking their time as they tried to record the fight. And when the Akuma was beaten and only Ladybug made a move to catch the corrupted butterfly, the final pieces clicked into place. Jon managed to stay still long enough to catch the crowd of fans running forward, trying to mob Ladybug with pleas for autographs or statements or interviews, before he left. Ladybug’s team had acted as a buffer between her and the crowd anyway, so Jon was able to leave with a clear conscience.

When he walked into his house, already changed back into normal clothes, he waved his phone with a serious look on his face as both his parents waited anxiously.

“Yeah. This is pretty bad,” Jon warned them as he hooked his phone up to his laptop, and played the footage for them.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Marinette got home, it was to a clear intervention. Nervously detransforming, she looked to Tikki and back to her new family. The Kwami, who had previously just been explained away as the source of her powers, gently nudged the girl forward. She knew her holder needed this.

Clark and Lois gently explained why they asked Jon to follow her, explaining that they were all concerned about how badly she was overworking herself.

“You’re getting only three hours of sleep, and that’s on the days that you wake up with nightmares,” Clark’s

voice was quiet, begging her to listen. “Every other day, you teleport to what I can only hope is Paris every time, and you don’t come back for hours. Even if you spend that whole time fighting Akumas, you still only get an hour’s worth of sleep maximum when you get back. Sometimes you don’t even sleep at all until you collapse of exhaustion,” he leaned forward over the table, worry etched in every line on his face. “Marinette, we’re worried. We wanted Jon to see what the situation in Paris was like, because we thought that maybe it would explain why you seem to care about it more than your health. We didn’t know if it was just you needing to keep busy, or something else.”

“And you’re gone during the day too,” Lois added. “And we get that. HawkMoth attacks whenever he feels like, and we all understand if you have to disappear at odd times to fight his Akumas. But this is more than that, isn’t it?”

Marinette’s hands were clenched into fists, and tears were starting to bubble up in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Jon slowly approached her, waiting for her small nod before laying one of his larger hands over her fists and gently prying them open before she hurt herself. He kept his hands there, holding hers for both of their comfort.

“I took a video, today,” he admitted gently. “Dad already erased it from the laptop and my phone, don’t worry. But they— we all— needed to see it. The way Paris treats you, Marinette—“

“It’s like how Metropolis used to treat Superman. How they sometimes still do,” Lois interrupted, trying to get Marinette to meet her eyes. “We all thought that Superman showing up was the end of our problems. That as soon as he showed up, the villain or criminal or whatever that was causing us problems was done for. That he could save everyone,” Lois’s eyes grew melancholy. “But we had to learn the hard way that he’s not invincible, no matter how much he might seem like he is. We had to learn the hard way that nobody, no matter how strong or how many powers they have, can save everyone. The kind of trust we had in him before is toxic, Marinette. It’s toxic to us, because we stop being as careful as we should be if we think he’s always going to catch us. And it’s toxic to him, too.”

“How?” Marinette asked, her voice impossibly tiny and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she darted her eyes between them. “They need someone to believe in. They— I make them feel safe. I— isn’t that good?”

“You feel like it’s your job to be there no matter what, right?” Clark asked, meeting her gaze with a warm, but firm one of his own. “That you have to do whatever it takes to win every battle, no matter what it costs you, because they believe you will. You start feeling like everyone you don’t save is your fault. And that’s not okay,” he stood up and Jon slowly backed away, allowing their father to kneel by Marinette and clasp one of her shoulders. “It always hurts. You might never forget the faces of the people you can’t save, but it isn’t your fault. You told me and Jon that you don’t blame us for what happened to your parents, that it’s stupid to blame the hero for something that wouldn’t have happened if the villain didn’t attack in the first place,” his grip tightened slightly, trying to offer comfort when Marinette tended at the mention of her parents. “If you don’t blame us, even though we were the ones in costume and fighting that day, then you need to stop blaming yourself too.”

The tears finally overflowed, salty water trickling down Marinette’s cheeks and sloppy sobs ripping themselves from her throat even as she threw herself into Clark’s chest. He hugged her tightly, letting her cry.

“B-b-But,” Marinette stuttered in between hiccuping sobs. “My powers reverse damage, m-my powers bring people back,” she sniffed, burying her face deeper into Clark’s chest. “I wanted t-to help. I-I was. S-s-So close to tr-transforming and fighting with y-you, but I didn’t. I d-didn’t, so I c-couldn’t bring them b-back. I should have been tr-transformed, th-that way they would be—“

“Shh,” Clark whispered gently, rocking her in his arms. “It’s not your fault. Metropolis wasn’t your city. You were protecting your identity, and that was the right choice.”

“But—!”

“No, Marinette,” Clark interrupted, holding her just a little tighter as she continued to tremble and sob. “If you had transformed, someone would have figured it out. A French class comes to Metropolis, and one of their students mysteriously disappears at the same time that a French hero shows up in America for the first time? Maybe you could have brought them back, but none of you would have been safe. Our villains, the villains of Metropolis, of the League, they would have suddenly known about you and might have researched Paris. Maybe HawkMoth would have gained a new ally, or maybe a villain would attack you just because you’re a new hero to target,” Clark sighed, rubbing his hand gently over Marinette’s back as her sobs quieted into a few hiccups and sniffles. She was listening. That was a good sign. “So yes, maybe you would have been able to save them that once, but you could also have opened up a new can of worms that you might not have been able to handle. Things could have gotten worse, and Jon and I wouldn’t have even known to help you. You would have continued to shoulder everything on your own, but you don’t have to. You did your best, and your parent’s deaths aren’t your fault. And you have Jon and I now, and your team even if they don’t know who you are. You can rely on us a little. If you keep going on like this, though, you’re going to kill yourself Marinette,” this time his grip tightened for a whole different reason and Clark buried his face in Marinette’s loose hair. Even after only almost three months, the thought of losing her made him breathless. She was his daughter, even if not by blood, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting herself like this.

“Please, Mari,” That was Jon, who had knelt down by their side and joined the hug. “Let us help you. I promise we’re not incompetent heroes.”

Marinette’s laugh was watery, and hysteric. She accepted a tissue from Lois, who was suddenly sitting down only a foot away from the three’s group hug. After a good nose-blow, Marinette took a deep breath.

“Maybe now’s a good time to give them a proper explanation, Marinette,” Tikki said as she floated down to land on her wielder’s head, giving her the best hug she could. Marinette gave another wet chuckle.

“Yeah, I agree,” she took a deep breath. “But it’s a long story.”

“Not a problem,” Lois assured the girl as she forced herself up and stretched her arms out. “I’ll get the extra pillows and blankets. We can relax on the floor and have story time, and then binge watch movies and have a sleepover in the living room. Clark, could you be a dear and move the couch out of the way?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You have a rule against killing, dear,” Lois whispered groggily from where she was laying against Clark’s side. Marinette was sprawled in between him and Jon, safely in their cuddle-cocoon. Both of their kids were deep asleep. Clark grunted.

“Yeah, but he put so much responsibility on kids, Lo. Kids,” he whispered back, turning his head to try and lessen the chance of waking up Jon. “And he didn’t offer them any support for almost a year, made them figure out the whole hero thing and their powers on their own,” the clearing of a tiny throat made Clark stifle a snort. “With their Kwami,” he whispered, quietly appeasing the eavesdropping Tikki who was laying on Marinette’s chest pretending to sleep. “But a god isn’t exactly a replacement for an actual hero mentor, you know,” he shot at her, making the tiny goddess shrug in acquiescence. “And making her Guardian— he basically threw all his responsibilities onto kids, and ran away. And now Marinette has to heal from all the unrealistic expectations she gave herself. So forgive me if I’m entertaining a few more violent daydreams than usual.”

Lois patted his arm and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure they will be just as violent and gratifying to imagine in the morning. Go to sleep, Smallville.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was another two and a half weeks before Marinette met Damian Wayne for the first time. She looked from the fellow teenager in a perfectly-pressed uniform and then over to her brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Does he fly in on a helicopter every day?” She asked him incredulously, making Jon grin and nod. She looked back over at Damian, who was clearly annoyed at her for speaking about him when he was right there. “I will never understand rich people.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And I will never understand simpletons. Kent, who is your friend?” He practically spat the last word, making the inner bully-detector in Marinette go off. Her interactions with Chloe and Lila kicked in, and sparked her old habits. Marinette flashed a bright smile, stepping in front of Jon before he could say a word and holding out her hand to Damian. Clark, who was talking to Bruce nearby, out his hand over his mouth to hide a snort. Bruce raised his eyebrows, paying close attention to the interaction now.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Clark and Lois took me in a few months ago, and they said I’m already family. That means that I’m Jon’s sister now, which means that it’s my job to keep him away from bad influences. My hobbies include annoying bullies and not being a welcome mat. How are you?”

Damian blinked once. Twice, and then took her hand and shook it firmly even as a smirk spread itself over his lips.

“Damian Wayne,” he replied easily. “And I apologize for assuming you were a simpleton. I think we can tolerate each other just fine.”

As Marinette and Damian kept trading sarcastic quips with one another that got steadily less passive-aggressive as time went on (with Jon watching in dismay as somehow Marinette seemed to get along? With Damian? And they were scheming? This couldn’t end well.), Clark and Bruce watched the kids walk into their school building.

A moment of silence stretched, before Bruce finally caved and asked; “Took her in?”

Clark grinned slightly, knowing Bruce never would have been able to resist sating his curiosity over the new girl in his care.

“Lois and I practically adopted her. Technically her paternal grandmother has custody and only gave her to us to take care of while she recovers from her grief in a different country, but that’s only because trying to adopt her without being French citizens would have been almost impossible.”

“Grief?” Bruce’s eyebrows pulled down, and Clark’s smile grew somber.

“Remember the attack in late May, back in Metropolis? The one that actually had the first fatalities in months?” Bruce’s face went slack in realization, followed closely by his eyes snapping to the school’s doors. Clark nodded. “Looks like your penchant for adopting black-haired, blue-eyed orphans is contagious. She was scraping the skin off her hands and giving herself burns trying to dig them out of the rubble. When Jon and I realized that they were both of her parents, I had Lois look into her to make sure she had family to take care of her,” Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The options were a grandmother who never stops traveling or a great uncle she barely knows who only speaks Mandarin when she doesn’t. So we pulled a few strings, and now she’s a Kent in all but name.”

“I hope Damian can avoid saying the wrong thing for at least a day before I talk to him later,” Bruce said with a sigh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “At least she seems to have won his respect pretty quickly.”

Clark laughed. “Oh yeah, she tends to do that. No offense or anything Bruce, but I think it’s a good thing we were the ones that adopted her before you got the chance,” he turned and smiled at his old friend. “You wouldn’t be able to handle Marinette. She’s closer to a Super than a Bat.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron

Part 3

This. Was. Supposed. To be. Fluffy. Damn it. But oh well, natural story progression calls for more hurt and comfort I guess? Maybe one part left in this story I think.

[whateverthebeeswant]

All the thoughts my little gay brain had while watching Wonder Woman 1984

- “Victory is not what you think” okay so this is the cliche line for this movie good to know

- Absolutely loving all the crowds of femme Amazon lesbians and their jock partners. What a fucking aesthetic

- I’m just saying if I was a fully grown warrior I’d be pissed at getting shown up by a pre-teen.

- They keep shooting the colors to show their progress but I’m pretty sure that they started with like 15 people and there are only 6ish colors. How tf do they know who is who

- This girl deserves to be lesbians with Diana. I mean she RADIATES disaster gay energy cmon

- Diana: The Original Simp Abuser

- Diana is surprisingly okay with her boyfriend taking over this dude’s body. Like this poor bastard is basically being roofied.

- Again, I do not understand the purpose of him being in this other man’s body if only for that ending scene.

- Fun fact: I am 90% sure that the building outside of Diana’s apartment is the Watergate Hotel, thus continuing this movie’s trend of shoving every possible 80s reference into a 2hr35min runtime (ik it was the 70s but whatever)

- Wow that’s a long movie

- It’s pretty heavily implied that they had sex. How did that work? Is it not awkward for you to fuck your boyfriend using another man’s body as a glorified dildo?

- Also I don’t imagine that Diana keeps condoms in her nightstand but they really should be using them because who knows where this poor dildo has been. This is the EIGHTIES for chrissakes. #wrapitbeforeyoutapitkids

- Diana’s offhand comment about making a cup invisible one time and losing it is the best part of this movie.

- Evil Arab Man (like I was making jokes to my friends about Wonder Woman killing Palestinian civilians but omfg)

- Also interesting that the area that this guy is referencing most definitely includes Israel

- Yeah sorry but this Barbara chick’s evil origin story is that she beats the shit out of a would-be rapist and is impolite to her friend? Like go be nice to him but by all means continue beating the shit out of creeps queen

- Evil Reagan— wait, that’s redundant

- While the Steve/Diana mortal/immortal demigod “all I’ve ever wished for is you” dynamic is nice, Destiel did it better

- “She flies now?” “She flies now.”

- When did she grab her armor? I’m pretty sure I don’t remember her having that when she first started flying

- Okay but how did the Monkey’s Paw bitch make Barbara into a cat person? Like he said that he can only take stuff from people that they already have. So it stands to reason that either a cat acquired sufficient sentience to wish for something or he drained a furry.

- I feel like I’m watching Cats (2019) after avoiding it for the past year.

- (Did they animate Kristen Wig’s butthole? I’m not going to put the effort into proving or disproving this, but the development team must have at least considered it at some point which is disturbing)

- No, actually this is going to give me nightmares. What the FUCK

- Yeah I’m pretty sure most people in other countries didn’t speak English well enough to understand this dude, especially among the working class people depicted. English rates aren’t that high in places like China/Korea/Russia etc. today.

- Pretty sure that one scene with the couple is referencing the Troubles (I’m 93% sure the wife said something about deporting Irish people) but they forgot to show Margaret Thatcher wishing for the death of every poor person, Irish person, and unionizer

- (Fun fact, kids: Margaret Thatcher’s grave and various statues/monuments qualify as gender neutral urinals)

- There are like. A lot of kids in this movie.

- So she runs into the dildo again and has a nice conversation. Does this guy realize what’s going on?

- No, seriously. Imagine waking up after a batshit apocalyptic event after having the shit beaten out of you multiple times either a) not remembering anything which is extremely suspicious or b) having memories of being roofied by some vigilante chick’s fridged male-wife. He’s gonna need some major therapy and possibly a back brace

- Pretty sure this movie was supposed to be released over the summer, which explains the 4th fireworks. The Christmas scene seems kinda tacked on by comparison ngl

- In conclusion: solid B- superhero blockbuster, could have used more lesbians

[talvin-muircastle]

Am I Queer? It’s Controversial.

This is going to be long, and it’s going to cover a lot of ground, so please bear with me.  

Recently, this article came to my attention:

https://www.healthline.com/health/gender-nonconforming

I have spent a fair amount of time questioning my own sexuality/identity, and having it questioned by others.  Now approaching five full decades of life, I feel comfortable saying:

I identify as Male, and Straight.

I am Gender Non-Conforming by the standards of the culture I come from.

But I am not comfortable saying this qualifies me as “Queer” or otherwise under LGBTQIA+.   

That article (which is by no means the Last Word on the subject) identifies several areas where I do not conform to my AMAB status as culturally defined:

I have long hair.  But I also have a thick beard and moustache, and I like that combination.  Still, I grew up in a place where long hair on a guy meant you were A) Queer or B) into Heavy Metal.   Even though my teen years saw me sporting a military-style buzzcut more often than not, I tended to hang out with the Metalheads.  My long hair continues to be a point of contention with my conservative relatives and in-laws.   Some of them think I am a Hippie, which is funny because I am allergic to Cannabis.  Wanna watch me fight for breath and puke?  Blow weed smoke in my face.  

I am a Stay-At-Home Dad and Homemaker.  I have been the breadwinner for this family, but that is not part of my identity.  I am quite content to let my wife handle that part of things, and so is she.  I have been a Dad longer than I have been a father, in fact:  for most of my life I have been mentoring teenagers that find their way to me seeking advice, comfort, acceptance, and guidance.    I spent a lot of time worrying about what career should I follow, and it took me far too long to understand and accept that Dad was what I was after.  A woman seeking motherhood as a career is validated, a man seeking fatherhood in the same context is not conforming.  

When I was younger, I got hit with one hell of a double-standard: while wanting to be a Dad as a goal is not acceptable, I was supposed to go out there and sow my wild oats.  OK, I wasn’t really supposed to get girls pregnant, but I was supposed to try.  Wait, what? Try that again?  OK, if you were a teenaged boy in the 80s and 90s and I am pretty sure before that (not sure after, AIDS changed a lot of thinking all around), you were not supposed to get a girl pregnant, but you were supposed to make an attempt as often as possible, in fact you were supposed to score but fail.  If you are confused, don’t feel bad: I was living steeped in this paradox 24/7/365 and came out of it real confused.

Meanwhile, I was looking for a long-term, meaningful relationship with a woman who could be a partner in my life, and avoiding the one-night stands I was supposed to be after according to the standards of my culture, and so many of the people around me—parents, teachers, peers—decided that I must be Queer.  And that was Not A Good Classification To Find Yourself In in Rural Tennessee of the 80’s and 90’s.   Lacking real support, I entered adulthood like a trainwreck still skidding down the tracks, confused as hell and desperately trying to please people whose opinions mattered to me far more than they should.  I did finally find that relationship, and we celebrate 21 years of marriage this month.  Meanwhile I can’t keep track of who has gotten divorced and remarried from that crowd anymore.   

I am not a fan of American Football.  (I am not a fan of soccer, which is football to the rest of the world, but that’s not going to get you labeled Queer in the USA as yet.)   Even so, I got recruited to be the Football Manager for my high school football team, and then I spent several years studying to be an Athletic Trainer in college as an add-on to my English and Education degree.  The fact that I spent 7 years of my life on the sidelines of football games (and basketball, and baseball) and still do not really understand the rules of those sports should have been a clear sign to me that I was trying to conform and failing badly.  An American Male of my generation is supposed to like these things, he is supposed to scream at the television or scream from the stands when watching a game, he is supposed to have a Favorite Team and Wear Their Stuff.

Yeah, that’s not me.  I don’t like combative sports.  I like things that involve grace, beauty, and art.   Figure skating (either gender, singles, but especially pairs) is fun to watch.  The more artistic of gymnastics events are nice (uneven bars and vault are kinda boring, but I love watching floor exercise.)  Watching someone do tricks on a skateboard is more interesting to me than an MMA bout.  I enjoy the art of it.   I used to watch WWF Wrestling as a kid, but I found I enjoyed the “story” more than the violence.  Martial arts practice that is done like a dance is more interesting than watching two people try to kick each other in the face for real.   

I’m told I am supposed to like these things.  I am told that not liking them makes me less masculine.  

This extends into online gaming as well.  Oh, I like some combat games.  We aren’t going to talk about how many hours I have played the XCOM series.  But…I don’t like PVP or multiplayer. I like the story arc, and accomplishing things.  Minecraft?  I like building, and killing mobs is very secondary to that.  In single-player I usually just go peaceful mode and explore the world, build grand railways and tunnels, create comfortable houses or make a home under a lake with a glass roof under the water.  In World of Warcraft I spent more time exploring the world and getting cool screenshots than worrying about getting Phat Loot and XP.  I would take a whole afternoon just to escort a couple of new players through dangerous territory so they could find their friends.  

I have gotten a lot of grief over that.  I am supposed to go out and kill kill kill stab stab stab get the loot!  

And I am supposed to get more than the other person.  It’s competition.  Men are supposed to compete.  And if you can’t get more than the other guy you go dump buckets of lava on his house and laugh at the noob.  

I hate that.  

By the standards I was raised with, I am gender nonconforming.  I most definitely do not conform to the expectations that were laid upon me from my youth.

Does that make me Queer?   I am not comfortable claiming that.

The standards I was held to can also be considered Toxic Masculinity.  They hold that Queer==Less Of A Man.  “Queer” is not “Less.”  I was raised to think it is, but I have learned, and grown, and I know that it is not.  I also do not accept that I, myself, am Less.  The very premise of me being labeled Queer by those people is wrong on all counts.   I am different. I have always known that.  I believe that “Man” and “Male” can encompass more than violence, bullying, and competition.  I also know full well that many who identify as “Woman” and “Female” embrace those as ideals as well.  

I am no stranger to violence.  My life has often been violent.  I have fought off muggers who were armed with knives, I have stared down the barrel of a gun, I have been beaten because someone else wanted to establish himself as the dominant male in our school just after he moved there.  I am not a pacifist: the only reason I have not killed another human being in self-defense is because I was outnumbered.   I just don’t feel that defines my gender, and I have been told it should.  I fight to survive and to protect others, not to prove that I can.  

Others who look like me are guarding statues of Columbus with their Assault Rifles because they feel their masculinity is threatened.  This is another area where I do not conform to my expected gender roles.   Not only do I not feel my masculinity is threatened by BLM, or Pride, or the existence of Trans folks, I no longer feel my masculinity can be threatened.  I spent so many years under attack from “my” side, and gotten so much support from “their” side, that I now understand that my gender is not about what THEY think.  It is MY identity. I OWN it.  I am who I am regardless of their perception of me. Nothing someone else does can take that from me. 

And if anything about me is Queer, it is that: the understanding that my identity belongs to me and not to those who seek to mislabel me.  

I have been told by some in the Queer community that I am welcome among them, and I am grateful for that.  So, so many of my stories can be prefaced with, “There I was, the only Straight Guy in the room, when:”  I am proud to be an Ally.  

But calling myself Queer?  I’m not comfortable doing that.  I could, and I know some who would accept it.  But I feel it is more important to me to break the toxic definition of Masculinity and show that things like nurturing, caring, creating, dancing, loving, uplifting, and oh yes parenting, these ARE Male Qualities, always have been, and should always be.   No criticism of GNC folks who take the Queer label intended or implied: they are not Less, they own their own identity, they are valid.   They are themselves, and have a right to be. 

I am me.

I am a Man.

I will never be the Man they wanted me to be, and I am PROUD of that. 

Happy Pride Month.  

Don’t let the bastards get you down.

[ranma-rewatch]

Episode 15: Enter Shampoo, the Gung-Ho Girl! I Put My Life in Your Hands

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz* Oh wow, look at the time! My alarm’s gone off, which means another Ranma Rewatch is ready to begin! This week we’re nearing the end of the first season of the show, with the fifteenth episode. Judging by the title, this one introduces Shampoo, a fairly major character throughout the series. I’ve mostly been neutral on her, but I am interested to see if this viewing makes me like her more or less. We’ll see next paragraph, after I’ve seen the episode.

So, uh, holy moly. I did not expect this episode to be this meaty for stuff to talk about. I’m not doing a Character Spotlight again this week (waiting for more Shampoo content before I give her one), but this should still be quite the post. So, let’s get started.

The episode starts with Akane and Ranma (in his cursed form) eating parfaits in a restaurant together. There’s a TV special in the place showing some reporters making contact with a village of amazon women, who live deep in China. Ranma’s like, ‘Hey, I’ve been there!’ but soon one of the walls to the building is destroyed by someone. That someone is one of the amazon’s from that very village, Shampoo, and Ranma knows who she is: she’s there to kill Ranma.

Doing what he does best, Ranma hides, and Akane wants to know what the deal was with her. He explains that a few months previous (the timeline feels weird to me there), Ranma and his dad were in China, still with the Jusenkyo guide. So, probably not far from the springs. Oh, and they were still cursed at the time. They came upon that village of amazons, right as they were having a tournament. Ranma and Genma ended up eating the grand prize, and when the winner, Shampoo, took issue with that, Ranma just fought her to make him the winner. That turns out to be a problem, because in doing so he triggered one of their most customs: whenever they’re beaten by an outsider, the guide explains, they give them a Kiss of Death, which is a promise to follow them wherever they go and kill them.

Which is exactly what Shampoo did. The entire time they were in China, Shampoo chased them, and now she’s finally found them in Japan. Back at the Tendo estate, Ranma has changed back to his original form, so when Shampoo shows up she’s quite confused. She never met Ranma while he looked like that before, and doesn’t know it’s him. But she does remember seeing Akane eating with her target, and when Akane refuses to tell her where Ranma is, Shampoo decides to add another person to her murder list. Ranma defends Akane, knocking out Shampoo in the process.

At that point, everyone is expecting her to give Ranma the Kiss of Death, again, but she doesn’t. I mean, she does kiss him, a lot, but it’s not a murder promise. No, she is clearly snuggling up with him hardcore, pissing off Akane something fierce. For a moment, it looks like she and Shampoo will fight, but Akane backs off, leaving Ranma to her. Everyone is now sure that Ranma must have been lying before, and she was some girlfriend he had in China, but he keeps disavowing it. Akane only shows back up to the situation to clarify that she doesn’t think of herself as ever having been Ranma’s fiance, then storming off.

With Akane’s dad pissed as hell and wanting to know what’s going on, Shampoo, who barely knows any Japanese, hands over a copy of her country’s rules. Soun tries to read it, but he doesn’t know any Chinese. Nabiki starts reading from it though, revealing that the Kiss of Death is only for outsiders who are also women. If an outsider man beats an Amazon in combat, she has to marry him. Ranma pushes back against this, hard, but Nabiki makes clear she doesn't know Chinese either, the rules have a Japanese translation that Soun completely missed.

Later, Akane is beating up a training dummy she dressed to look like Ranma. Clearly, she is not upset about this situation whatsoever. She tries to tell herself that, well, it wasn’t like they chose to be together, their dads made the engagement. But she flashes back to an episode that hasn’t aired yet, remembering how protective Ranma can sometimes be of her. Then, she hears Ranma trying to tell Shampoo that her village’s customs are outdated, that they can’t get married for that dumb of a reason. Akane’s sisters appear to further explain to Akane that Ranma wasn’t trying to cheat on her or anything, it was out of his hands. Sadly, she’s set off once more as Nabiki translates some of Shampoo’s Chinese phrases as ‘My beloved husband’ and ‘I love you’. It’s obvious she either doesn’t understand Ranma’s attempts to divert her, or she doesn’t care. Either way, the more she snuggles up to Ranma, the more he has a hard time talking her out of this, making Akane mad again.

That evening, Ranma’s on the roof considering the situation. Now that she isn’t trying to murder him, he realizes that Shampoo is actually pretty cute, and ‘nicer’ than Akane. Ryoga appears, throwing cold water on Ranma and explaining how much he hates to see Akane getting jealous because of all this. Ranma starts to say that it isn’t his problem is Akane feels that way, but she appears and denies it, saying he could do whatever he wants. But then Shampoo shows up, sees the red-headed Ranma, and tries to kill him.

From there, the last five minutes or so of the episode is a loop of events: Ranma, in his cursed form, tries to escape the violent Shampoo; Nabiki, realizing an opportunity, gives Ranma hot water but charges him ridiculous rates to use it; Shampoo switches to trying to cuddle Ranma, he runs away, and Ryoga uses cold water to turn him back. The episode ends back where that cycle started, for the third time, as Shampoo chases Ranma away, and Mr. Tendo looks at his damaged home, realizing how much this whole situation is going to cost him.

So, that’s the episode! Let’s get into more detail, though. Starting at the beginning, I find Ranma’s scene there really interesting. I don’t think it’s the first time the show has shown Ranma as eating something he usually wouldn’t while in his cursed form, but it is the first time that’s discussed with someone else, I believe. Ranma clarifies that as a guy, it would be embarrassing to eat a parfait, but it isn’t embarrassing to do when he’s a girl.

This is maybe the first time Ranma has actually called himself a girl while in his cursed form, and it leads me to a few different ways to look at the situation. It could be that Ranma’s normal embarrassment comes from how other people see him, in which case he’s just using how he looks different while cursed as a way to avoid that. It could also be that Ranma’s embarrassment is entirely internal, and he’s started to think of himself in his cursed form as actually being a girl, giving him a way to do feminine things without hurting his pride. This is kind of a complex topic, weaving together gender and gender expression, so all I think I can say for now is that I don’t think this is evidence towards Ranma not being a guy, but instead that Ranma is an opportunist who will find loopholes, even in rules he imposes on himself.

Also, this scene raised another question for me: were they on a date? Throughout this whole episode, Ranma and Akane had a really different vibe to me. Especially in the sub, the way they talked about them made it sound as though they were actually in a relationship now, on some level. That kind of threw me for a loop, because it kind of shatters how I saw the series.

The way I remembered it, Ranma and Akane were ‘officially’ engaged, but never considered themselves more than friends, at least to a level they were willing to admit to. It’s obvious they care a lot about each other, but I didn’t think it went further than that, at least thus far in the series. But their hangout at the cafe seriously felt like a date, and while Akane is angsting later on she’s talking about them being ‘together’.

What’s so weird about this is that, well, it kind of works for me. They’re still rocky with each other, thanks in no small part to Ryoga’s interference, but they’re definitely a lot closer than they were even back during Ryoga’s introductory arc. I will admit I could just be reading these scenes wrong, but it is so weird to think that, at least before this episode, they had made a step towards being closer.

Let’s move onto the new character: Shampoo. The first thing I found myself thinking about, during this episode, was how similar her introduction here is to Ryoga’s. They both show up out of nowhere, trying to kill Ranma, having just come from China. The big difference, however, is that Ranma’s reaction to Ryoga was mostly, ‘Who? Oh, yeah, that guy from school. Good to see you again!’, and even as Ryoga has become a bigger fixture in his life, Ranma is rarely more than annoyed with him, except when enraged with Ryoga using his curse to get closer to Akane.

In contrast, Shampoo showing up scares Ranma, a lot. Unlike Ryoga, who Ranma never knew was even chasing him, Shampoo has been constantly trying to kill him for months. What is odd about that is that Ranma is clearly far stronger than her, which makes me wonder why he keeps running, instead of trying to fight her again. Does he think it would make the situation worse? Is he worried about the collateral damage? Has he tried it, only for her to just keep coming for him?

I mentioned it before, but I am not a super huge Shampoo fan. I’m actually seeing more to her, at least a little, but that’s mostly because I’m liking her Japanese voice actress more than her English one. She sounds more fierce and less airheaded in the original language, I’m finding. In general, my issues with Shampoo can be summed up as: I don’t really like that her character doesn’t seem to have a lot of agency; I find the fact she’s written to be dumb kind of racist; and the fact she is far weaker than Ranma is a missed opportunity, and more than a little sexist. I’ll cover those gripes more, along with how they evolve through this rewatch, another day.

While we’re still in the Shampoo Realm, there was something interesting I noticed this time around: at first, after she shows up, Akane calls her cute several times. In general, she doesn’t seem to have any issues with her at all, even joking with Ranma about how her attractiveness must make her chasing him at least a little better. She doesn’t seem threatened by her at all.

Again, there are a few ways to read it. You could use it as evidence towards Bisexual Akane, which I don’t mind doing because us Bi’s need more representation, yo. In addition to that, tying back to what I said about it seeming like Ranma and Akane are actually dating here, it might actually be a sign that Akane was feeling so secure in her relationship with Ranma that she didn’t have an issue with Shampoo, aside from the trying to kill Ranma part. It was only once he beat her again, and the kissing started, that Akane got jealous.

Speaking of, let’s talk a little about jealousy. So, fun fact if you didn’t know, but I’ve actually been in a poly relationship before. Polyamory is actually pretty neato, and if you don’t know a lot about it I’d recommend doing research. One important thing about it is looking hard at jealousy and where it comes from. A lot of stories show jealousy as a necessary byproduct of caring about someone, which I’ve grown to really dislike. We kind of get that here, as Akane’s jealousy is treated as a joke about how much she actually likes Ranma, and less as a character flaw to work past.

Jealousy is a very toxic emotion. It’s root isn’t in love, but self-esteem. It’s the fear that, if your partner likes someone who isn’t you, that makes you a less valuable person, that you could lose your partner and with them an important part of who you are. But it’s important to not base your self-worth on how other people see you, and to not be possessive. Just because you’re in a relationship with someone, that doesn’t mean you can control them, you don’t own them. I feel like the series does touch on this a bit as well, as several characters, including Ranma, imply that Shampoo is more attractive than Akane. Ranma has taunted her from day one about her being a plain-looking girl, so it’s obvious why this amazon getting so touchy with Ranma sets off her alarm bells.

Smaller note, but I do think it’s neat how we get a lot of this idea that, when Akane is really upset, she needs to do martial arts. This obviously isn’t the first time we’ve seen this, but I do feel like this episode hammered home the idea that Akane likes to work through her issues by, well, working out. Honestly, that’s not a bad idea, and it fits her character. She sees her martial arts as a big part of who she really is, and by practicing it, she’s emphasizing her individuality and her identity, in a way.

Last of these smaller notes, but I really loved Nabiki’s attitude throughout this episode. In one conversation, she goes from trying to show Akane that Ranma was kind of forced into this situation, to then making sure she knows what Shampoo is saying to Ranma. It genuinely feels like Nabiki enjoys screwing with Akane sometimes, and that was entertaining.

If it isn’t clear, ‘entertaining’ actually describes a lot of this episode. I really enjoyed it! Shampoo’s introduction was good, sure, but that last five minutes was just pure hijinks, and it was genuinely fun to watch. The episode was also just full of great humor. One of my favorite jokes being Mr. Tendo trying to read the Amazon Law book, that whole part got me really laughing.

Before I move onto the ranking, I did also want to talk a little about watching order. Like I mentioned in the recap, there’s a point where Akane flashes back to something that happened in an arc we haven’t gotten to yet. What’s up with that? Well, I mentioned in a previous post how Hulu has a different order from what I’ve seen online as the original one. That’s because the order on Hulu is the chronological order, as well as the one in which the episodes were originally produced. What I’ve been following, and will continue to follow, is the broadcast order. Apparently, they purposefully aired episodes out of order sometimes. In this case, they moved another arc back into the middle of season two so they could get to Shampoo faster, because apparently she was a really popular character in the manga. So that’s neat. But like I said, I’ll be sticking with the broadcast order.

Like I made clear just a few paragraphs ago, I really enjoyed this episode. But exactly how much? I’m actually having a hard time placing it. It’s introduced a major character, as well as just being a very fun episode. I think I’ll give it third place for now, right behind the middle episode of Kodachi’s introduction, and the episode all about Akane’s bad haircut.

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’

Episode 12: A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 15: Enter Shampoo, the Gung-Ho Girl! I Put My Life in Your Hands

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 13: A Tear in a Girl-Delinquent's Eye? The End of the Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Episode 14: Pelvic Fortune-Telling? Ranma is the No. One Bride in Japan

Will next episode be just as good? Find out with my next week, as I go into the next episode of this arc, “Shampoo's Revenge! The Shiatsu Technique That Steals Heart and Soul” I genuinely don’t remember what that is, at all! See you then!

[alydiarackham]

(cover by me)

How to Be a Hero Like a Villain by Alydia Rackham

Introduction

I’m Basically a Geek

                 Hi. Yeah, so, it’s true. I’m a geek. Have been forever. I really had no shot at being otherwise. My mom raised my brother and I on musicals and Star Wars and Star Trek and Disney. Growing up, I read loads of YA sci-fi novels—again, lots of Star Wars—and then when Marvel started making movies, I got into X-Men and then Iron Man, Thor (my major crush on Loki still remains alive), Captain America, then Batman; all that jazz. I’m also a Disney fanatic and a theatre nerd.

I was an English major in college, am in love with Tolkien and Austen and Dickens and Doyle, and adore all things Victorian. My friend Jaicee introduced me to Vampire Diaries and Originals (which are both compelling studies in heroics and villainy, let me tell you). I’ve written tons of fanfiction, in addition to loads of original novels. I write in all genres, mostly because I get hooked on a good story, good characters, no matter the setting—though I do have a weakness for an epic story arc, flawed heroes and of course, powerful villains. Right now, I’m on the 5th book in my fairy tale retellings series. So far, I’ve retold “Beauty and the Beast,” “The Snow Queen,” “The Little Mermaid,”—and then I did a totally-original one about a Curse-Maker, from the POV of…yep, the villain! At the moment, I’m working on a retelling of the legend of King Arthur, called “Excalibor.” It’s a blast.

               As you might imagine, I am intrigued most of all by character. I enjoy reading about the great ones, and inhabiting the interesting ones in my own writing. Flat romantic interests and motivation-less villains drive me nuts. I’m fascinated by a character’s inner workings, his history, his motivation, his mannerisms, his relationships, his skills, his style, the way he presents himself to the world. My brother and I love analyzing plot holes and devices and flaws and symbolism and insights. (Our after-movie discussions can get very animated, and last for hours.)

               Often, we find ourselves yelling things at the Hero on the screen like “For crying out loud, don’t do that! Don’t go in there! Stop wasting your time! Watch out—don’t you know what’s in there?” We easily see the choices that the Hero makes that are flawed, impulsive, or just plain stupid.

               But very rarely do we notice such things about the Villain. A good one, anyway.

               The Villain takes us by surprise. He startles us. He’s two steps ahead. He already has the device, he’s laid the trap, he’s captured the girlfriend, he’s destroyed the evidence. (Cancer Man in X-Files makes me absolutely want to scream because of this stuff.)

               Why is that? How did he know? How is he doing this?? It drives us crazy—and yet, we reluctantly have to admire the greats for being such awesome masterminds.

               So…how are the Villains so successful? Sure, we could shrug it off and say, “Well, he’s a super-genius, what do you expect?” But that’s too easy, and frankly, it’s doing a great disservice to our Evil Neighborhood Menace. In fact, with everything we see, and with the Hero making such rash and stupid decisions, oftentimes it’s a wonder that the Hero even lives, let alone triumphs in the end.

               And actually, in real life, that’s often true. The Hero does die or fail, and the Villain lives and prospers. Why?

               What is it that the Villain is doing that the Hero is not doing, which makes him successful? Again, the easy and lazy answer is “He kills people to get what he wants, he lies, he steals.” Okay, sure. What you’re describing is a garden-variety thug. Somebody who gets caught in Spiderman’s webs every weekend.

You are not describing a Super-Villain.

There’s something about a Super-Villain—a really great one—that keeps him in the game, that makes him a serious threat to the Hero, even after being beaten over and over again. What is it about Lex Luthor—who has no powers—that keeps him alive, and makes him a continuous, serious threat against Superman, the most powerful being on the planet?

How is it that a Villain keeps coming back, when similar failures and losses would crush a Hero and send him home forever, never again to don the super suit?

Could it be that a Villain’s methods, his mindset, his approach, are vastly different from a Hero’s?

And, if a Hero could learn to take these qualities and mesh them with his own already-existing awesomeness, could he perhaps avoid a devastating loss, a crushing defeat?

Is that…in fact…what does make the Hero succeed in the end??

That’s what this book is about. Examining what truly is awesome about a great Villain, and showing YOU how you can put those qualities to use in your own life to do a great deal of good, instead of great evil.

Be a great Hero. Take a few tips from the Villains.

-Alydia Rackham

         P.S. I’m going to refer to both the Hero and Villain in this book as “he.” I’m doing that because it’s waaay easier than saying “he or she” all the time. Not because I don’t believe that women can be awesome Heroes, or terribly wicked Villains.

Because I totally do.

 Chapter One

What Makes A Hero or a Villain?

                 So, what is it that makes a person a Hero, instead of a Villain? We’re talking the foundation, here. What are the qualities he or she possesses deep down inside that distinguish, that draw the line, that clearly state to the world: “Nope, this is a good guy, this is a bad guy”? This can be confusing. Especially when we look at two characters, say Loki and Bucky Barnes. Both of them have been all over the map with both good and evil deeds. Both have been called Villains, and both could be Heroes.

               What is it that makes us decide where someone stands?

               I would say that it all comes down to one thing: CHOICES.

               It can’t be anything else. You can’t say it’s kindness, or love, gentleness, trust, honesty, bravery, self-sacrifice, or self-respect. Many Heroes and Villains alike struggle with self-respect. Many Villains sacrifice themselves for a person, or a cause. Villains are almost always exceptionally brave. Villains probably are honest with at least one person, or have been in the past. They also have trusted someone, been gentle with someone or something. Most certainly, the best Villains have loved very, very deeply, and tried their best to be kind to that person or animal.

               However, something went wrong. Very wrong. And with every Villain, it can be traced back to Choice.

               Sometimes, it’s a single choice. Many times, it’s several choices in a row. And eventually, they all decide that “the ends justify the means.” They opt for self-preservation, for the removal of liberty for other people, for the arrogant assertion of their own will. Over and over again, until it poisons them.

               A Hero is someone who does not do this. Who chooses, even if it is wrenchingly difficult, to stand by what is right, no matter the consequences. No matter if he loses everything. He will not betray his honor. Even if no one else would see or know—he would know. And he will not do it.

               In the end, this is what makes the Hero stronger than a Villain. The climax, and the defeat of the Villain, comes when the Villain’s weaknesses are exposed, and the Hero takes all his own strengths, combines them with the strengths of the Villain, and declares victory.

               A Hero guards his or her good conscience fiercely. It’s pretty well summed up in this quote from Captain America:

               “Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are: not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”  

 Chapter Two

Good Guys Can Be Stupid

                 We all know it’s true. When we’re in the movie theatre, we mutter under our breath, shake our heads.

When we’re at home, we scream at the TV.

               “Nooooo! What are you thinking? Don’t go that way, go the other way!”

               “You moron, don’t go off by yourself! Never leave the group! Especially in the dark!”

               “What, you jumped in there but you had no way of getting out?”

               “Don’t ignore her calls, she’s trying to save your life!”

               Yep, we’ve all been there. So what are some bad traits that Heroes tend to display that we ought to try to avoid ourselves?

  Stupid Impulsiveness

               Sure, impulsiveness can be good on a date, or at a restaurant trying some new dish.

It’s not good when you’re, I dunno, jumping off a ten story building. Following a noise into a dark forest. Or deciding to stop a bank robbery two days after you discovered your powers. Bad planning, or none at all. Not even thinking about what could happen in the next five minutes, let alone preparing for it.

For us regular folks, this can be translated into deciding to go for a drive in the snow with no 4-wheel drive, jumping off something that’s too high, going on a trip without enough money, walking down a dark alley in New York City…

               Yeah, you get the idea.

Not Keeping Family and Friends in the Loop

               We’ve seen it a lot: Heroes thinking they need to conquer alone—deal with all their problems, and protect their family members. However, all that ends up causing is major trouble. Sometimes life-threatening, sometimes not, but it’s never good. One that comes to mind is Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. If she had told her sisters about what was going on with Darcy, and especially the drama with Mr. Wickham, she might have saved her sister Lydia from being entrapped by the Villain. Pretty much every single story about a superhero contains this type of lament: “If I had only just told them the truth!”  

               Heroes fall into the trap of thinking that they’re protecting their loved ones by keeping secrets. By not trusting their friends or their family with what’s going on in their lives. When in fact, this only puts their loved ones in danger, and puts serious stress and pressure on the Hero, which can lead to exhaustion, panic, stretched resources, missed opportunities, and giving the loved ones the feeling that they’re being neglected and forgotten.

  Discouragement

           So many times, the Hero just doesn’t have the tools to do what he needs to do. He’s isolated himself, he’s gone without sleep, he’s fighting an uphill battle every day. And then, one major thing goes the wrong way, and he’s broken. He collapses, he throws things, he cries, he’s in despair. He thinks there’s no possible way for him to do this, to keep going.

               He dwells on the failure. It almost swallows him. He loses all confidence, all belief in himself. He might even lose faith in the cause itself, in the people and things he’s been fighting so hard for. And if someone doesn’t come along and convince him otherwise, he’ll never put on that Hero cape again, or pick up that shield, or that sword.

Read this book: https://www.amazon.com/How-Hero-Like-Villain-Villainous-ebook/dp/B07NMVGCHP/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=how+to+be+a+hero+like+a+villain+alydia+rackham&qid=1572901986&s=digital-text&sr=1-1

[thesleepycreator-blog]

Nusa Penida, Bali - worth the hype?

Lazy and hopefully smart at the same time we booked our day trip to Nusa Penida, the neighbor island of Bali with Edy Smile Tours on TripAdvisor like the classic basic girls.

Getting dressed for the day, our guide was 30 min early and as we are students - of course we were not ready yet lol. Letting him wait until the  pick-up time, we were ready to take off in his baby-blue-furnished car which let us feel like we’re in some kind of hipster vehicle.

Lucky enough we had a villa which is just 10 minutes from the Sanur port, where our fast boat took off. Without the diver we would have been totally lost: more than 20 booths were there which sold the most diverse boat trips. He guided us to our boat slot and got our tickets. Ready to board!

As my super creative Tumblr name already says, of course I took the perfect opportunity for a nap during the 35 min boat ride. That’s sometimes just the perfect escape from annoying people or super tight seats touching your knees.

Finally arrived, what do we do first? Of course, everyone had to pee. That’s the most annoying part of any trip isn’t it? *30 min later* off to the too air-conditioned SUV, our horse for that day.

Sorry to not provide any person that might read this with intercultural insider infos, but the guide did not speak English that well and we barely got any infos from him (unlike the TripAdvisor description lol).

Little side fact: the island has rather bumpy and narrow roads and the contribution of lots of other cars and especially motor bikes turned our trip to a car-sitting adventure more than exploring the island outside. At one point the bumps were so unbearable that one of us got nauseous. But we survived. Not sure if people who rented bikes came far.. 

First stop: Crystal Bay

The name already sounded like a dream, and it really was a dream. White sand. Big palm trees. Crystal clear water and just a few tourists. We we overwhelmed, can you tell?

Kelingking Beach

Kelingking Beach, THE insta spot. Of course it was also my favorite spot of the island - until I got there (lol). A crowd of tourists gathered at the long fence of its viewpoint killed the magical experience the T-rex shaped island edge gives. Taking the perfect picture without anyone else was nearly impossible. Our guide showed us immediately the off-the-beaten-path photo spots which turned our great.

Unfortunately we couldn’t go down the rather dangerous stones, because our time schedule was not long enough for that, but I’m sure it would have taken hours passing by the 200 tourists.

Broken Beach

Cutting off our Kelingking adventure, we were heading towards Broken Beach, a bay due to a huge hole in the rocks. Looks pretty cool huh? Well, it was not that great. You can walk around the circle, chill on the grass or have a coconut. Furthermore you can have one of the most inconvenient toilets ever (a plain hole in the ground for just 5000IRP). But anyways, it was a nice view to end our day trip.

The ride heading home is either the worst or the best. In this case we were sad to leave all the beautiful places, but were grateful to have again tarred streets without 90% being holes.

Thinking it was a great idea to take the outside seats in the back, water loved to splash in my face. When I decided to sit on the opposite side backwards to avoid the water, a crazy strange feeling came to my whole body. Back to the water splashing seat, I gladly could avoid the worst - if you know what I mean. Yeah, and that's why you should not experiment on a boat and take the inside seat everyone else uses lol.

Ending the day could not have been better with being dropped of at Massimo’s, our trusting Italian place in Sanur.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Maybe I can help to explain janyepro’s bewilderment at Irish not being viewed as white. It is an attempt of the Americans to save their racial hierarchy while hating the Irish at the same time.

Imagine for a moment you are a settler in America at the beginning of the colonization. You and your fellow settlers are white, the natives who you want to kill to steal their land are red, the slaves doing the work for you are black. The humans around you are neatly colorcoded, which means that racism becomes a key tool to justify your rule and to clearly identify those not belonging to you.

Now imagine you are a European, who also wants to conquer and colonize his neighbors. Perhaps an English Lord wanting to profit from the Highland clearances to replace all those Scots with much more profitable sheep, perhaps a Wallonian tycoon, wanting to get rid of the Flemish peasants farming on top of a valuable ore deposit, or even a Nazi occupying Poland. Now in all of those cases your victims are just as white as you are so you cannot rely on skin color to justify yourself. So what to do? Well religion is a good excuse, and it is no coincidence that the last two bloody conflicts in Europe (Northern Ireland and Yugoslavia) had strong religious divisions. You have also already noted that it was an important part of the anti-Irish prejudice in Australia. Language is also a big one, and most European countries strongly discriminated against people speaking a different language, their children would be beaten if the spoke it at school and could only avoid the beating if the denunciated another pupil. In some cases they even invented a new race such as the Aryan race which did not include the Slavic people Hitler wanted to enslave, even though blue eyes and blond hair was more common amongst them than among Germans.

So the end result is that the same things that happened in the US along racial lines happened in Europe as well but between white people. However, this created a problem for Americans when the Irish arrived. The Americans had inherited the English prejudices against Catholics so they also hated the Irish. But doing so created a problem for their racial worldview: now there were suddenly white people (i.e. people with pale skin) that were decidedly NOT amongst the ruling class. And this threatened their narrative of white supremacy, as there were now some whites that were clearly not superior. And so in classic case of “round hole square peg” they simply argued that Irish were somehow not white to save their racial hierarchy, even if Irish people actually have the “whitest” skin and often don’t tan.

You still see the same dynamic today with Muslims. In the US they are described as “brown” even though if you look at the skin color of people from the middle east, there is no difference between those from southern Europe. In Europe you never hear this argument that the Arabian or Turks are somehow not-white. All the rest, the threat of Sharia law, the incompatibility of our cultures, the fact that all Muslims are terrorists is also common talking point of right-wing parties here, but not that they are non-white. Then again, we don’t have to pretend they are, because they have the wrong religion and speak the wrong language and what more do you need?

Thanks, anon! 

My sister did her thesis on pre-Darwinian anthropology, and yeah, the “hierarchy of the races” was pretty terrible stuff, but it really showed the “scientific” justification they used where some whites weren’t really whites at all! 

And really, it’s only only been the past few hundred years that we’ve had all this “race” business anyway: or at least where ideas of race were also linked to ideas about intelligence, and physical fitness, and all that other nonsense. Funnily enough, of course, the “science” appeared just at the right time to back up the ideas of slavery and colonisation and empire building. What a crazy coincidence!  

[kpopreactionstoruinyourlife]

Song Girl - Part 11 - Sungjin Fan Fiction

Song Girl Masterlist

Part 11 - February 2014

Summary: Their first time saying those words; their first trip together.

He had a plan. He’d tell her how he felt on their 100 day anniversary when they went on a weekend trip to go skiing at the resorts out west with Amanda and Melissa, another English teacher with Amanda. They’d get into their hotel room and go to their private bath and he’d say it, ideally right into the curves of her neck while they bathed. If they happened to have sex the first time after that, all the better.

Maybe calling the hotel to ask for rose petals in the pool would clench it. But then again, roses made Ella sneeze a lot so...best not.

That was only a week away. He just had to keep his tongue back. These days he found himself thinking, and wanting to sing, the words whenever he saw her.

He checked the reservation for the third time that day, making sure they had a single bed and good quality room.

“You’re ignoring me again.” Ella teased, poking his nose gently as she returned to his side after giving the cookies she’d brought to the guys.

“Sorry,” He said smiling as his hand found hers and he pulled her close. “I’ll give you all the attention  you could want next week.” He whispered in her ear, making her blush.

“It’s ok, I know you’re distracted with training and everything.” She said smiling at him. “But I’m going to meet some friends, so could you see me out?” She asked, which was code for making out in the hallway before bidding each other goodbye.

“Sorry for ignoring you,” Sungjin said, wrapping his arms around her as soon as they were in the hall and in relative privacy.

“Just kiss me.” She whispered, standing on her tip toes.

So he did, eagerly and hungrily, holding her body tight to his. Several minutes later when they turned away, their hair was a bit more tousled, their cheeks flushed and lips a bit swollen.

“Have fun tonight, stay safe.” He said, his thumb tracing her jaw.

“You too,” She said. He felt that familiar feeling warm through his chest as he stepped back to let her go. She stole one more quick kiss.

“Goodnight Sungjin,” She said with a smile taking a step back.

“Goodnight Ella, I love you.” He said and turned toward the door before he realized what he’d said. On the other side of the door he could hear Jae and Wonpil going ‘ooooh’ and he cursed the thin door before he turned back to Ella, frantically waving his hands.

“I didn’t mean-! You can ignore that! That’s not what I wanted-!” He started and he finally realized she’d cleared that distance between them. Her arms were around his neck, pulling him down to her. She kissed him more forcefully than she ever had before and kept kissing him until he got over being stunned and kissed her back, albeit with some confusion.

“That’s not how I wanted to say that.” He said with a strained expression and she giggled.

“I don’t need a dozen roses and candles for that. I’m happy you said it because…” She dropped her voice and leaned into his ear to whisper. “I love you, too.”

He smiled but then he’d remembered. “I had a plan though!” He said in a desperate whisper. She giggled, unable to stop smiling. “I was going to say it next week on our one hundred day anniversary at the resort.” She kissed him again.

“Goodnight, Sungjin. I love you.” She said before she slipped out, still smiling.

When Sungjin returned to the apartment, Jae and Wonpil greeted him by saying “I love you Ella!” In drawn out girly voices. Wonpil was chased through the apartment for that.

A week later, they headed east to go to their ski resorts and spas. Unbeknownst to Sungjin, Ella had packed a fair bit of sexy little outfits in addition to the layers she’d wear to ski. Her only concern was not getting too beaten up skiing that she’d be unable to enjoy their privates night together, determined to try getting around her block. He in turn had about ten condoms, which he figured might be overkill but it was better to be prepared. They didn’t tell each other about their packed secrets.

Their hotel featured large public korean baths and other amenities right next to nationally, and internationally, renowned slopes that featured night skiing until two in the morning. They left Friday morning, Amanda and Melissa in their own car behind them. The trip was going to take three and a half hours.

“I think I brought a whole bottle of painkillers.” Ella said ten minutes after Sungjin started on the drive and they’d gotten through more mundane small talk.

“Why?”

“The last time I went skiing I was sore for a week.” She said; what she didn’t say was that she was going to do everything to avoid being sore because she wanted to be able to have sex with him without screaming muscles.

“You could run with me in the mornings.” He said with a small smirk.

“I don’t run.” She said firmly. She walked, everywhere, and she ate healthy, but she didn’t run. It didn’t make sense to run if you weren’t running after something or from something.

“You’re very stubborn about that.”

“I’m stubborn about a lot of things.”

“Do you have a list?”

“I have a lot of lists, but that’s not a list.”

“But what are you stubborn about?”

“Hmm, French Vanilla is the superior vanilla ice cream, chocolate heals souls, Harry Potter is my comfort blanket, your hands are the best hands, same with your voice, you are very handsome, Korean beauty products are superior, psychology can do more than most people know, should I keep going?” “No, you’re good. My hands?” He said stifling his laughter.

“Rough, warm, and full of magic.” She said removing her hand from his and opening his up to trace his lines and callouses.

“You’re weird.”

“Yep, but it’s too late for you to ditch me now. You’ve said you love me.”

“I do love you.”

“And I love you.”

“If you want to finish up your reading, you can do it while we drive. I know that’s what you wanted to do.” He said as they got onto the highway.

“Ok, just let me know if you want to talk or do anything.” She said slipping her feet out of her boots and tucking them under her, lifting a book, highlighter, and tablet from her bag and placing them on her furled legs.

“It’s fine. This is your job.”

“I’m looking forward to staying up late having fun and not translating twenty pages of work.” She said as she flipped open to the correct chapter. She was working on creating a lesson plan for an English course she was getting ready to teach over the summer.

“What kind of fun?” He asked, gently squeezing her leg.

“A wide variety.” Ella said smiling up at him before she dived into the book. She stayed submerged in her work for two hours, only emerging for brief moments as she shifted in the seat, checking up on him when she did so. After those couple hours, she put her books away for the weekend and turned to him, slipping her hand into his once again.

“So, what were you thinking we could do when we get there?”

“Take our stuff up to our room, pee, and then I’m torn between two options.” She said while he rocked her hand back and forth with his.

“What options?”

“A) Spend quality time alone in our room, or B) Go skiing or tubing, maybe tubing because that won’t make me as sore.”

“Well, why don’t we go tubing for a couple hours then go back to the hotel. We’ll get there early enough it might not even be dark yet.”

“Will you stay with me if I break something?”

“Just try not to break something.”

“Fair,”

“This is the exit, right?”

“According to Google.”

“You’ve never been here.”

“No.”

“Of course not, is there anywhere else in Korea do you really want to go?” He asked as they started down the more local roads.

“Jinhae for the cherry blossom festival.” She said immediately.

“Really?” He said, smiling broadly.

“Yeah, why are you getting so happy?” She asked squeezing his hand as he moved hers around with his.

“I’ve been a few times, it’s usually around my sister’s birthday so I’ve been with my family.”

“I’m so jealous. Cherry Trees are my favorite.”

“You know, I had guess that since you have a cherry blossom dress, skirt, shirt, phone case, laptop skin, keyboard cover, planner, and umbrella.”

“That honestly probably not all the cherry blossom I have. We had one in my front yard and another in my backyard. The Kwansen was my favorite.”

“You really love them, don’t you?” “Yes, that’s why I’d kill to go one day.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Is there anywhere you want to go?” “I wouldn’t mind seeing where you grew up.”

“The United States, that’s a very different trip than just going south to Busan.”

“I know, and you don’t even live in the same part as Jae.”

“Opposite coasts.”

“That country is too big.”

“I’d love if we could go. I spent my weekends one year exploring DC and I could show you around.” She said and he smiled turning into the resort.

“I’m not sure that will work out, but hopefully someday.”

“That is good enough for me.” She said as they parked.

They spent their afternoon skiing and tubing until it got dark. Sungjin took photos of the girls while they were out. Once they got back, they headed into the resorts bath and spa.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Sungjin asked Ella when she emerged from the women’s changing room. She glanced down at her blush pink bikini. Next to her, Amanda was in a red tankini and Melissa had donned a slightly suggestive black swimsuit.

“This was the only swimsuit I brought, so yeah. Don’t be that guy.” She added and he sighed. Amanda laughed.

“Guess you’re not in the US anymore.” She said patting El’s shoulder before she and Melissa beelined for the for the spa baths outside.

“I know I sounded possessive it’s just…” Sungjin waved his hand. “Even in Busan in the dead of summer, guys wear t-shirts,” he plucked at his own, “and women wear cover ups and even go into the water with them.”

“Ok, so these are things you should tell me because I don’t know.”

“Come here…” Sungjin said, reaching for her waist.

“What?” She said as he leaned in.

“Forgive me because I don’t like guys staring at my girlfriend dressed like that.” He whispered and she rolled her eyes.

“Like you can talk, girls are staring at you.” She said glancing around.

“Let’s just join Amanda and Melissa…” He said, starting to red as he noticed the girls, too.

“It’s ok, I mean, I know my boyfriend is hot.” She said as they moved toward the baths.

“Stop being weird.” He said poking her side.

“Too late. I am weird.” She said as she sank into the bath next to Amanda. Reluctantly, Sungjin sat beside her.

“Do you think I’m being too possessive?” He asked Amanda, who laughed.

“I think...given your history, it makes sense. But I also think you don’t know how much she’s in love with you.” She said and he looked at Ella.

“Other guys don’t matter to me. But if they matter to you and that means you give more attention me, I won’t complain.” She said with that flirty, suggestive, daring glint in her eye.

“That’s good to know.” He said as he draped his arm over her shoulder.

“So do you all want to hit up the karaoke later?” Melissa asked.

“Nope, not with him at least.” Ella said immediately.

“Why do I matter?” Sungjin asked, his voice rising.

“Because you sing better than anyone I know and I do not want you judging my voice or anything.” She said and he laughed.

“I’ve heard you sing.” He said and she gasped. “You sing when you clean, or cook, or in the shower.”

“I’m so sorry for the damage inflicted on your ears.”

“No, it’s not that bad.”

“Average.”

“Yeah, average.” He said and she laughed.

Being with him was better than being with anyone else, except maybe her closest friends but they were great in different ways.

Back in their hotel room, they were once again alone. Ella was taking a moment to steady herself while Sungjin checked up with everything on his phone. She stole another glance in the mirror - she wore a pink silk pajama top with black lacy lingerie underneath. Her body felt electrified; her mind was a bit of mess, but she was going to ignore that.

Ignoring it was easier when she saw his expression when she stepped out of the bathroom. His eyes grew and a blush crept into his cheeks while he put his phone aside.

“Wow,” He said after his eyes travelled over her. His hair was still tousled and curling slightly. She was captivated by him and anticipation swirled in her stomach. She wanted him and that mess inside her head slipped away.

“Are you up to a little more activity tonight?” She asked, padding across the floor to him.

“Activity?” He said, chuckling. His hands found hers as she straddled his lap.

“Sorry, uh, I didn’t really know what else to say because I didn’t want to say something like ‘want to make out?’”

He thought back to the dozen condoms in his bag. “El, I was thinking, and we don’t have to do this, but I thinking or maybe hoping…”

“I’m supposed to be the one that babbles.”

“I want to have sex with you.” He blurted and she smiled. She got that mischievous glint that told him he was in for it.

She tucked her head down, pressing her lips into his neck. “Silly boy,” She murmured into his skin, pressing her body into his. “Why do you think I’m dressed like this?” She said and he dropped his head back.

“So is that a yes?” He asked, his voice that strained one he got when he was turned on.

“Yes,” She said picking her head up.

He crashed his lips to hers, seeking hers with a hunger he hadn’t before. His arms tightened around her, pushing her body against his. His fingers sought out the buttons of her shirt while their tongues mingled. Slowly, the fabric of her shirt fell away, exposing the black lace of her bra, a recent purchase.

“Ahh…” He let out a breath, staring at it for a moment. Ella slowly ran her fingers through his hair. It felt good to make him want her since she wanted him. She felt sexy, desired, and her ego basked in it.

Then he flipped them and took off his shirt before smirking back at her.

Shadows of nerves swam over her eyes and he paused. “You’re still nervous about sex, huh?” He said and she nodded.

“It’s not you...I want to, I’m just not sure my body will cooperate, or my brain.” She confessed.

“What do you think we should do?” He asked, and she sighed.

“Just go slowly, and make sure I’m turned on, I also brought lube and don’t let me think too much.”

“You get lube and I’ll get condoms?” He asked and she nodded. Both of them lept of the bed and returned with their items.

“I’m sorry in advance if it turns out this won’t work.” She said and he smiled kissing her forehead.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He whispered before bringing their lips together gently.

“I love you.” She whispered as he guided her back on the bed, slipping her shirt off her shoulders. She pushed closer to him, craving his touch, his warmth, hoping to lose herself in him like she usually did.

“I love you, too.” He murmured into her skin. He kissed her slowly, pressing his lips into every inch of her body. He trailed from her lips, her neck, to her breasts once he languidly removed her bra. He continued over her stomach to her heat. Utterly unhurried, he pulled her panties down, following their path with his lips along her inner thigh. One hand guided her legs open while the other locked with hers.

“Please,” She whined, her breathing already labored. He was surprised to find her already dripping, hips rolling, under his hand.

“Just let me know how you’re doing.” He said squeezing her hand before his tongue swiped into her folds. Immediately, she let out a jolted moan, her muscles tensing.

He wanted to make her feel pleasure she hadn’t known before. He wanted not only have sex with her, but have sex with her that she enjoyed, that she loved. He loved knowing that he could bring her to not just one but several orgasms with just his tongue and fingers. He couldn’t get enough of her moans, her arching her back, rolling her hips seeking more pleasure, or the way her stomach and thighs quivered when she orgasmed.

His tongue travelled through her folds. It dipped into her dripping heat before winding up and circling around her clit. She dripped and whimpered losing herself to his touch.

Before long, she had reached her first orgasm, squeezing his hand tight.

He brought her to her second one using both his tongue and long fingers. This one took longer to recover from for her.

“Do you want to…” He trailed off, reaching for a condom. She nodded and sat up, trying to quell her racing heart.

Sungjin wasn't Charlie. Nothing about them was the same except that they both played guitar. His very touch was different, his heart. She knew that. Sungjin was not going to hurt her.

“What position do you think…” Again he trailed off, his free hand waving toward the bed.

“I think we should keep it straightforward.” Ella whispered. Her heart rose steadily and her body tightened. Shadows of panic swirled in the corners of her mind. What if I really can't do this?

“Right…” He trailed off and looked between them. He'd had sex before but suddenly he felt like a virgin,  unsure and all awkward hands. Maybe that's how sex with someone for the first time always worked. All awkward as you felt each other out.

“I think you're going to have to take the lead.” She whispered. Her hand sought his out, anchoring herself to him.

His brown eyes locked on hers, seeking any sign that she wanted to back out, if she wasn't ready. Murky assuredness, determination shimmered in her eyes.

His free hand guided her to lay back while he got on top of her, swallowing his nerves as best he could. He knew she wanted this to work and he wanted to give her that. She squeezed his hand tighter, that ball of nerves tightened in her stomach, much worse that than sensation before her orgasm.

He brought her hand up, letting it go and letting it land over his shoulder and neck. With his newly freed hand, he lifted her chin bringing her lips to his. He put everything he had into that kiss, how much he loved her, how much he didn't want to hurt her, his desperation to satisfy her. She wrapped her arms around his neck clinging to him. Through her chest, he could feel her erratic heartbeat, matching his own, which was resisting his efforts to be cool and collected.

His fingers glided down her side, over her smooth skin, seeking her heat. He was relieved to find she was still wet, even wetter than before, a sign she was miraculously still turned on. Her walls were tight against his fingers as he tried to stretch her out.

After a moment, he slipped his fingers out and lined himself up to her entrance. Her hold on him got tighter, her nails poised to dig into his shoulder.He deepened the kiss, clumsily making an attempt to rub her clit while he slid inside, an effort to distract her.

Her nails dug into his shoulder and she let out a whine, but she kept kissing him. He slid in all the way, still kissing her until he was done.

Her nails loosened as he slowly pulled out of the kiss. He swallowed dryly. She was tighter than he expected; he was unsure of just how long he'd be able to last. Then again, she had said that when shed had sex before, she had just been hoping it would end quickly so maybe she wouldn't care.

“Are you all the way in?” She asked in a low voice.

“What kind of question is that?”  He asked, couldn't she tell?

“Hey, there's only really nerves at the opening, the rest of it is not really all that sensitive. All I can tell is that you're there.” She said, a deep red coloring her cheeks.

He laughed. Her nervous babbling was coming out.

“Yes I am, is it too painful?” He asked, not daring to move until he knew how she was feeling.

“No, not really, like I said, limited nerves. It feels a little good actually...I think if you rub my clit, I might really enjoy it.” She said, her fingers twisting through the hair at the back of his head.

“So you're good if I move?” He asked and she nodded, a ghost of nervousness running through her eyes. He kissed her again before he slid out, leaving just the tip in. His thumb rubbed her clit in the way he already knew she liked before he slid back in.

Her little whimpers rose into their kiss, not sounds of pain but of pleasure. He couldn't help but smile. It helped his ego to know he was better at this than her ex. He continued thrusting, evenly, while their tongues tangled together and his moans joined her whimpers.

It wasn't long before his climax was building, and if her quivering stomach under his fingers was any indication, she was, too. Their kiss and his thrusts grew sloppy as they chased their highs. Their efforts were rewarded only a couple minutes later with a low groan out of him and a whimper dropping from her lips.

While it wasn’t the best sex of their lives, they had both enjoyed it and El didn’t have a panic attack. She was ready to deem it a surprising success.

After they caught their breaths and shared a couple awkward giggles, Sungjin disposed of the condom and El went to the bathroom.

“So, that went reasonably well.” El said when she returned, this time having paired the pajama top with its matching bottoms.

“Is that supposed to be a damning critique of my technique?” Sungjin asked with a smirk while he plugged their phones in.

“No, more of a critique for myself.” She said getting into the bed beside him.

“I enjoyed it.” He said turning to shoot a smile before he got back up to turn off the lights and check the door.

“That’s good, I did, too.”

“We’ll just take it slow to make sure you’re comfortable and happy.” He said unable to keep a grin off his face. “Did you really not feel any pain?” “I felt a little pain, but it went away, which hasn’t happened before.” She said smiling as he joined her in the bed.

“I am the best, you know.” He said kissing her forehead.

“I love you.” She sighed as she snuggled closer to him.

“I love you, too.” He whispered, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and holding her against him.

“I want to have sex with you again.” She hummed, her eyes closed.

“Right now?” He asked, startled but the confession.

“No, but again.” She said with a smile as she opened one eye. “I really am lucky to have you.”

“Me too,” He said kissing her nose. Under the covers, their legs tangled together naturally, without hesitation.

“And you even smell good.” She said with that same happy humming voice.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just the jasmine baths.”

“No, you usually smell good.”

“Are you drunk or something?” He asked feeling her forehead as she shook her head.

“No, but I act a bit drunk when I’m tired.” She said closing her eyes with a stubborn determination not to open them again.

“Then we should sleep.” He said flicking the last light off. She turned to her other side, her usual sleeping position, but her feet were still hooked with his. In turn, he rolled onto his side, the bigger spoon to her smaller one.

“What do you think about morning sex?” She asked while his arm draped over her waist.

“I’m not opposed.”

“I like the idea of morning sex.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I thought so.”

“Are you getting into another hormone crazed state?”

“What can I say? You make me crazy.” She said interlocking her fingers with his.

“Sweet dreams El,” He whispered, kissing her shoulder.

“Sweet dreams, Sungjin.” She echoed.

Neither of them wanted moments like this to ever come to an end.

[jupitermelichios]

My Grandpa died yesterday morning. It was peaceful and painless, and we knew it was coming, but I’m going to miss him.

He wasn’t actually my grandfather by blood, but he and my Granny married before I was born, and both my biological grandfathers died before I was a year old, so he was the only one I had.

He was also one of the most wildly eccentric people I’ve ever met. He was a Stewart of Clan Stewart (there is an ancestral castle in the highlands, currently inhabited by someone known only to me as “Little Larkie, you know, the one who plays the bagpipes”. I have never met Little Larkie, but in my mental image of him he takes his bagpipes everywhere.)

My Grandpa had a very expensive boarding school education in the 40s, but by all accounts managed to leave school having actually learnt very little, and having avoided expulsion by the skin of his teeth. The highlight of his school career was the day he killed one of the headmaster’s pet ornamental ducks, roasted it over a campfire in the wood behind the school, ate it and then buried the bones and feathers in a rabbit hole. He said it wasn’t particularly good, but there was rationing, so he was glad of it. Apparently the headmaster knew what he’d done, but could never prove it, so he was beaten but not expelled.

His first car had “2 Kings 9:20″ painted on the windscreen. This verse is not anything meaningful, it is one of the few references to bad driving in the Bible -  “and the driving is like the driving of Jehu the son of Nimshi; for he driveth furiously.” - the ability to quote and remember the citations for large chunks of the King James Bible being one of the few things he actually learnt in school.

He and his siblings spoke a strange nonsense version of English, which involved not made up words, but assigning new meanings to existing ones. Some of them made sense (peared, meaning died, I eventually discovered was short for disappeared) but some of them were odder. I have never been able to discover why they call all Priests, Vicars, Parsons and Ministers (and probably Rabbis and Imams too if they knew any) “Baskets” but they all did. (Despite the Bible knowledge, he was not a religious man, though his eldest sister, known only to me as the Pat, short for the cow pat, was a staunch creationist who thought it her duty to convert all heathens, especially those in her own family, and did actually use the word heathens.)

They also greeted one another with a bizarrely inhuman hooting noise called the Orpetig, rather than, say, words, and celebrated Hogmanay each year by firing shotguns at one another from opposite banks of the Loch.

By the time my Granny met him (through a newspaper lonely hearts column) he was living in a cottage largely unfit for human habitation in the mountains near to the Kyle of Lochalsh. There was no heating and the inside of the house would freeze in the winter, and it was so remote that when they finally moved, they ended up just burying most of the things they didn’t want, because there was no way to get them down the mountain. Going shopping for them involved a 4 day round trip by boat, and in order to reach the boat you first had to drive over a mountain. When I mentioned that this seemed a difficult way to live, he seemed genuinely surprised.

After that they bought a small farm up a mountain in Wales, which was at least nearer, and involved less boats, though not all that much more civilised in the grand scene of things. They raised a few sheep, some pigs and utterly failed to raise Crayfish. My grandpa had heard there was good money in Crayfish tails, so he bought some young crayfish, made a tank out of an upturned piece of large concrete pipe, and left them to their own devices. A yeah later, they had a single enormous Crayfish which had eaten all its siblings. I can still remember seeing it moving in the black depths of the pipe, and being quite sure it would eat me if I got too close.

He owned two cars, a little run around and a Landrover Discovery, which he point blank refused to drive in the winter. He believed that road salt would erode the chasis to the point that the car would collapse around him within a matter of days if he ever drove it in the winter, and so as soon as the roads began to get icy, he would put away his reliable four wheel drive, and switch the small two wheel drive car which was utterly unsuited to difficult terrain. We could never get him to understand how illogical that was.

Other highlights of growing up with him included: when sitting down he would hike up his trousers at the knees, the way older British men all do, but then he would go on doing it absentmindedly the whole time he was sitting down, including when driving, so that when he stood up, he would generally have one trouser leg rolled up to his mid thigh (and it generally was just one). He never once noticed he was doing this. He refused to pull woolly hats down over his ears, instead balancing them on top of his head leaving a lot of empty hat space not unlike the space in the top of a condom. I never saw him wearing less than three layers, and usually more. Even in the hottest weather, and while doing manual labour, he would be wearing a vest, checked shirt and woolen pullover. Usually this was paired with a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. I presume he owned several identical shirts and pullovers, since he never seemed to change them, but he was famously mean so it’s entirely possible it was the same one and I never never happened to visit him on wash day. For specially occasions he would swap his trousers for a kilt, but otherwise his wardrobe remained unchanged. He made strange noises almost constantly, and any conversation with him was full of humming snorting and grunting, usually accompanied by a lot of apparently involuntary eyebrow wiggling that made it look like he thought whatever you were telling him was all innuendo.

He loved explosives, and one Christmas made the family treck out to the barn in the snow to see my brother and cousin pull a giant Christmas cracker he had made using three empty oil drums, 400 of the snaps from inside normal sized crackers, and a huge amount of festive wrapping paper. He also hated all birds smaller than a pheasant more or less indiscriminately, and owned a bird scarer which he found in a junk yard which made a noise roughly equivilent to a small bomb going off. The first time he set it off in public (to celebrate his 70th birthday, naturally) it frightened my uncles dog so much she climbed out of the car window and made a run for it and wasn’t found for four days.

He was a bad husband, and by all account a fairly rubbish father, but he was a damn good grandpa, and made it possible for me to win every game of “oh my families so weird, you guys, they’re so random” that anyone ever challenged me to. I will miss him.